Mi Madre

I didn't grow up speaking Spanish, but somewhere along the way, I did start calling Mom, "Mi Madre." I meant it as a term of endearment, but the more I called her that, the more I came to attach meaning to the words: "Mi," mine, and "Madre," mother. That last word is so limiting. My mother became my mother by birthing me, but past that, she has done/is so much more.

Growing up, my mother fed me. She helped clothe me. She cooked for me, tended to me when I was sick, encouraged me, prayed for me, schooled me. She taught me about Jesus. She taught me about life. She read to us the classics (think Les Miserables by Victor Hugo), as well classics to her (C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, and the like). She chauffeured us. When the time came (and I frustrated my dad nearly to death), she taught me to drive.

When I was away from home, she wrote me letters. She master-minded a lot of my birthday, Christmas, and other celebration gifts (and still does). When I visited, even as a married person, she let me rest.

My mom is strong, resilient, sturdy. She's endured a lot. She endures a lot. She still prays. She still encourages. She's a role model, and a mentor.

Words, English or otherwise, cannot really contain the wonder that is my mother. So on Mother's Day, I guess the best I can do is just give thanks that she is "mi madre," a gift from God to me to show me just a little more of God and His infinite, immeasurable love. If her love is any indication, the love of God has got to be pretty great!

The Shaping Hands of Mothers

The older I get, the more I realize I have been shaped by my mom. Although I am not a mom, I have faith in Jesus because of my mom. I value homecooking because of my mom. My mom taught me to budget shop and save money. My mom continually models selfless service and sacrifice. My mom is a faithful prayer warrior and a steady encourager. My mom is a great nana to my brother's kids and so thoughtful in the way that she interacts with them. My mom is wise in all areas, and especially in health. My mom knows the Bible inside and out and models regular time in it. My mom walks daily, even though she has pain. My mom is a beautiful pianist and taught me how to play the piano. My mom can sing harmony with or without music, and knows hundreds of hymns. My mom works tirelessly, sometimes to her own detriment, but because she values excellence. I love my mom and I am so thankful for her!

Now that I am married, I am shaped by my mother-in-laws. I have spent less time with them than with my own mom, but I am shaped by the vast quantities of time I spend with their son, my husband. They value communication and joy. They like to celebrate holidays. They have shaped my husband into a flexible, empathetic, caring human who cares for me. They have taught him about food and travel and appreciating the little things. My life is enriched because of the ways that they enriched the life of my husband. 

I give thanks for the other mothers in my life, too: for my sister-in-law for the great wife she is to my brother, and the great mother she is to my adorable niece and nephew. She is so creative and caring! It gives me great joy to see the ways that she is raising them in the Lord. 

On the other side of my family, I have sisters-in-laws who share family recipes and teach me about the culture of my husband's family. They bring to me experiences that are meaningful to my husband, and enrich my life. Thank you, sisters-in-law!

I value my friends who are mothers, too. They give and sacrifice and give some more. What a delight to see them also raising their children to know Jesus!

So on this Mother's Day, I give thanks to God for all the mother's in my circle: my own mother, my husband's mothers, my sister-in-law, and my friends who are mothers. You are all doing a great job, and I send all of you my love.

Happy Mother's Day!

Powerlessness and Prayer

I felt somewhat desperate about a couple of situations this past week. I was not stressing, so much as distressing, because there was absolutely nothing I could do. I was powerless. And so I prayed.

I don't know what it is about prayer that it becomes my last resort. I should pray. All along, in between, and at the end, when I feel powerless, I should pray. And yet that point of powerlessness is what most often brings me to my knees.

Someone asked me how I was processing the deep sorrow of these situations. I responded that I was thankful that my mom taught me the power of prayer. And therein lies the rub. I know that prayer works. I know the power of it, and yet I don't always call on God first.

Praying about my powerless situations provides solace. It provides peace. It didn't necessarily change anything, and it might not ever. But it helps me know that I have agency to do something. And that changes me. Now if God can only change my heart so that I more readily come to him first, rather than last. It is when I forget the truth of God's power that I am truly powerless, because without Him, and access to Him through the power of prayer, I truly am nothing!

Dearest Momma

Dearest Momma,

Though I may not be exactly like you, I like you! I know I blew you off more than a few times when I was a teenager (especially on that one college visit), and it hurt you deeply. That was more about me and my identity development than you, but I am sorry. You have done many great things in life. You are great, and I love and respect you!

I can barely keep up my household of two. I will never know how you kept a family of five going. I know I saw you tired, but you never gave up, even when you went through bouts of illness.

You are still sharp as a tack when it comes to medical stuff. I got so, so annoyed when we would go to the doctor as kids, only to have them diagnose us with what you already knew we had. I 100% believe you could have gone farther in your medical career, but you chose to mother us instead. Thank you for making that sacrifice!

I learned so much about budgeting and efficiency and saving money from you. I may do it in different ways than you, but the savvy, as well as the celebration for it definitely come from you. Thank you!

You have hung on through many difficult things in life: caring for dying patients, caretaking for family, taking flack for lots of things that are not your fault. Again, I have seen you tired, but turning to the Lord for strength and patiently enduring life's trials.

I know I hated hiking as a kid, but I treasure our hikes together now. I did not always want to look like you, but now I will be very glad if I age as well as you have. While I once questioned your classic style, now I get it. Yes to simplicity! I made fun of your floor rags and masking tape labels, but now I do the same. I am sure there are many other things I will start to do like you as I age. That's what happens when you have a good example of a mother.

Dearest Momma, I may not be just like you, but I am becoming like you, and I'm not at all upset about it. I am proud that you are my mother, and thankful and grateful to God to call myself your daughter. I love you!

Happy Mother's Day!

The Crystallized Moments of 2023

Another year, and another year of months, days, weeks, hours, minutes, and moments. These are a few of the memories that have crystallized for me, burning into my memory in lasting, meaningful ways:

That feeling of floating running the Mesa Marathon 10K (I never imagined I could run that fast!)

Touring Coronado Island outside San Diego (wonder and awe)

The finish line after The Fresh 15 15K (the love of the family with me)

Porch sitting (both in the Spring and the Fall; a place of peace)

Watching the Monarch butterfly exhibit at the ASU Mix Center (and just being still)

Dinner with my little brother (Being adults and getting along is so much fun!)

Standing with my mom AND my dad after the Patriot Run to take photos (After the medical 

issues my dad experienced this year, I did not know if this would ever happen again.)

Meeting Ashley LeMieux

Looking over Tempe from the Coca-Cola sundeck (after a little bit of a rough start to that date)

My four and a half year old niece asking me to run with her at the playground

Coffee with a college friend

A healthy Christmas at home

Popping in to surprise my best friend and meet her baby

Spending some time with my Granddad

Here's to another year of memories, and savoring all that God has for us!

My Primary Source of Marriage Wisdom

I go to my mom a lot about marriage issues. It did not start out that way. In fact, in the beginning of my marriage, I tried not to talk to my parents about my marriage. Now, nearly four years in, my mom is the primary person to whom I go.

They say that a person marries someone a lot like his or her opposite gender parented. I never thought that my husband was like my dad, until I realized he was a lot like my dad. He and my dad are great men, but very different from my mom and I. When I go to my mom with marriage questions, therefore, she often has great answers, because she has lived a long time with a similar type of person.

My mom is for my marriage, too. My parents made it very clear when I got married that they were no longer for me, but for us. That remains when I seek out marriage wisdom from my mom. Most of the time, she calls me on my own sin, and my need to show grace for my husband. Sometimes, often, this advice hurts, but it is accurate, and needed.

Mom is practical. She often reminds me of the simple foundations of marriage that I forget. She tells me that things are probably not as bad as they seem. She reminds me that marriage is a blessing, and a gift.

Mom does not pretend to have all the answers. Most of the time, she ends her answers to my questions with a call to seek the Lord. Though in heaven, He is the ultimate source of marriage wisdom.

Having my mom as a source of wise counsel for my marriage is invaluable! It is a gift I dare not take for granted. She loves the Lord. She loves me. She loves my husband. She loves my marriage. There are many reasons to celebrate her, but this is the one I choose today.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom!
I love you!

Real Life Marriage: Let Him Dream.

"I learned to let him dream," my mom told me. I listened as she shared what she learned in her Love and Respect group at church. I didn't quite understand at the time, but somehow, I filed that comment away. Now that I am married, I understand more of what she meant.

My husband, just like my dad, is a perceiver. He likes to think, and talk, about possibilities. Many times, he has no intent of doing anything with his knowledge. He just likes to share. Really, it is an honor that he shares. He shares because this is part of his life. He shares because he can trust me.

I can tend to get all bent out of shape when he shares, especially when he shares about things that are beyond our reach. How would we ever afford that gadget, or that vacation? Where in the world would we find time to do that hobby? The thing is that he often doesn't intend to do those things. I'm over-reacting to him sharing. And you know what? That spoils the moment.

My husband supports my dreams (most of them having to do with running). Sure, as a judging personality, I rarely reach for big things. I want concrete goals. But still, he's the one getting up ridiculously early in the morning to drive me to races, carting my things around, etc. He puts up with my silly celebrations and random cooking projects. If he supports me, I can surely support him!

Supporting my husband's dreams most of the time just means listening, putting down what I'm doing to really hear him out. Most of the time, that's what he wants. Sometimes, yes, he asks for resources, but that is few and far between, and he respects our budget. I am thankful for that.

"Let him dream," my mom said. Yep, let him dream. It's part of marriage (at least my marriage). It's part of being a supportive wife. It's part of moving towards my "dream" of having a more satisfying, fulfilling, faithful, God-honoring marriage.

A Practically Perfect Day

A little belated, but we finally got to celebrate my birthday, well, to celebrate my birthday in the way I had envisioned. More than things, I want experiences, and I want those experiences to be with those I love. This past Saturday, this came to fruition with a day practically perfect in every way:

Walking with my mom (and running the day's miles home)

Yoga

Pancakes, cocoa and an apple (unpictured) for breakfast

Climbing at Gripstone with my love

A long, leisurely nap

Trying out a new outfit (complements of my Ohio best friend)

Dinner out (peppercorn gorgo burger at Prescott Brewing Company)

Belated Mother's Day photos

An evening walk

And just relaxing... 

--

Thank you, Lord, for a wonderful day!

My Momma is Beautiful.

My Momma is Beautiful.

My momma is beautiful

Not because of the clothes she wears,

but because she is kind

and full of care.

My momma is beautiful

Not because of the products she uses

but because of her encouragement

and the uplifting words she chooses.

My momma is beautiful

Not because of the latest fashion

But because of her service

And all for others she has done.

My momma is beautiful

Not because of her jewelry

But because of who she is inside.

She has beauty you cannot see.

My momma is beautiful

ultimately because, in her love

she images her Father

who comes from above.

--

Happy Mother's Day, to my momma, and all the mommas and mother figures out there!

The Power of a Praying Mom

Some of you may remember that I wrote a blog post some years back about the legacy of prayer that my mom lives out. Well, here's another story to prove it. Our washing machine has been making noises for an extended amount of time. Last week, my husband tore down the machine in an effort to fix it. After several days of wrestling, he came to the conclusion that the machine was defunct. That meant we needed to buy a whole new unit, washer and dryer. I had already made peace with the cost of a replacement, but then we discovered that we could not just go to the store and buy one. We had to order one, and the soonest we could get a delivery would be two weeks. Mind you, we already had overflowing dirty laundry hampers and I was running out of socks when we made the order. On top of everything else, that week, I lost my sunglasses. While trivial, these sunglasses meant a lot to me because my best friend me them and had our college logo on them. I had looked everywhere, and they were nowhere. Exasperated, I prayed, and with no apparent relief for distress in sight, I texted my mom asking her to pray as well. Things happen when moms pray, specifically my mom.

As my mind wandered while showering that night, I somehow landed on Costco. Does Costco sell washers and dryers, I wondered? I went and checked. Lo and behold, they do! And the unit we needed (a very specific one due to our space constraints) was a bit cheaper there than anywhere else, and a purchase included all the ancillary hookup equipment, and included free haul away of our old equipment. They could also deliver within the week. Wow! Totally a God-thing. We definitely pushed, "Pay now" almost immediately. I felt so relieved.

I still had not found my sunglasses, this week, and I was sad, but figured I could accept it given that the washer situation worked out. I had not completely given up when I went back to work, though, and sent an e-mail to the front office staff telling them I lost pink sunglasses, but did not know where. I got an e-mail back almost immediately that they had them! When I went to get them, the secretary explained that she had found them amongst trash in the parking lot, but thought that they were probably a kid's and picked them up and brought them back in, rather than tossing them. Another wow! As of today, our washer has been delivered and I have my sunglasses back. Big things and little things, God cares! And mom prayers, I tell you, get a praying mom (or mom figure) who loves the Lord because "the prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective" (James 5:16, NIV).

Real Life Marriage: Keeping My Marriage

I love my husband. Always have. Always will. But I passed through a season not too long ago where I did not love married life. Sure, marriage had benefits. In no way was I considering divorce. We have a covenant marriage, after all. Married life just felt so, so hard, and I felt so defeated.

I preach that love is a choice, a commitment, and that applied, especially in this season. I had to keep choosing marriage, choosing sacrifice, choosing to do the hard, even if I didn't want to. That was my commitment.

In a recent sermon at church, one of our pastors stated, "Your usefulness is your holiness." That also applied in this season. If I wanted to be useful to my husband. If I wanted to stand for marriage, I had to be holy. Holiness is hard. God demands perfection after all (Matt 5:48). And aspiring to that level of holiness often hurts.

David writes about holiness in Psalm 15. He describes aspects of a holy person, including the fact that this person "keeps an oath, even when it hurts" (New International Version). That phrase has played through my mind over and over again. Marriage is an oath. Sometimes it hurts. A lot of time it hurts. It exposes my rough edges. It requires me to be selfless when I don't want to. It requires me to say, "Yes," when I want to say, "No;" and to say, "No," when I want to say, "Yes." But it's an oath I willingly made, and by God's grace, I will keep it.

I talked with my mom about how hard married life was one time and she remarked, "But you wouldn't have it any other way." I had to agree with her wisdom. Yes, married life was hard. I didn't want it to be. I didn't want the hard. I didn't want the hurt. I didn't want the pain. I also didn't want to give up my husband. Marriage was the only way to keep him.

I love my husband, and married life can be hard. The two are not mutually exclusive. Since I want to keep my husband, I have to keep my marriage. Since I have to keep my marriage, I have to keep my commitment to love. Love and the hard. I guess I'll keep them both.

The Sacrificial Love of A Mother

I judged my mother for many things growing up. I am not proud of it, but I did. I judged her for wearing old clothes. I judged her for eating off our plates and always taking home leftover food from restaurants. As I got older, I chastised her for working too hard, for not taking care of herself, for not making time for herself. I valued her and wanted her to value herself. That was a good thing. I could have gone about my approach a little more gently and with a little more love, though. Growing up, I just did not understand.

I have learned a lot of things being married, and one of them is that sacrifice is a choice. All the things I judged my mom for growing up, she didn't have to do. She chose to do them. She chose them because she loved my dad. She chose them because she loved us kids. She chose them because she she wanted to, not because she had to. Now I am trying to choose love by sacrificing, too.

Sacrifice evidences depth of love. The Apostle John wrote in his first epistle, "This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers and sisters" (3:16, New International Version). There is a lot to be said for men and how they image Christ, but I think there is also a lot not said about mothers and how they also image Christ. My mom loved loved my dad sacrificially. She still does.  She loved us sacrificially. She still does. My mom would give her life for us, I am sure. Her example of selflessness points me to Christ, and to the cost of love, a cost I am sure I am only beginning to fathom.

So on this Mother's Day, I offer a heartfelt apology to my mom, and to all mothers whose love I misunderstood for so many years. You were not wrong. I was wrong. Your love was and is sacrificial and right, and least in God's eyes. Thank you for loving me well. Thank you for painting for me a picture of love. I love you.

Happy Mother's Day!

God Gives "Two Cents!"

It had been a long, hard week. I had just picked up my groceries at Wal-Mart and still needed to grab a few items at Safeway. I felt defeated. I really didn't want to spend any more money! I'd already spent enough. And I just wanted to go home. But we needed the items at Safeway, so I went.

Dragging myself into the store, I picked up the items on the list. In my head, I debated over each one. Should I buy it? Should I not? Did we really need it? Or could we do without? Should I buy bread, or make it? In the end, I decided to forgo the bread, but buy everything else.

I sometimes add up my expected grocery bill in my head as I shop, but not this time. Waiting in line at the self-check, I was just too tired to do it. I just wanted to buy the groceries and go home. I got to the kiosk soon enough and started scanning. Beep! Beep! Beep! My total just kept increasing. I didn't watch too closely. just wanted to get it over with and go home. But then the "magic" happened. I put in my savings card and the total started decreasing. Down, down, down to exactly two cents. I kid you not! I got the biggest smile on my face as I shoved my card into the chip reader. No one could see my face since I was wearing a mask, but if they had, I am sure the relief and joy I felt was evident! I was so happy I even talked to the clerk on the way out! Once home, I just had to take a picture of the receipt and send it to my mom. She is the one who taught me my super scrappy saver skills anyway (though I don't do her "education" justice).

Mom's reply?

And Mom's wisdom comes through again. I hadn't thought about the significance of the two cents until she said something. We use "two cents" to say our opinion isn't that valuable, or isn't worth much. This, on the other hand, was worth so much as a sign of God's care! In the exhaustion, depression, and despair of these current times, I confess that I've often forgotten to look for God's fingerprints, yet God came through on this date in time. He knew the week I had. He knew my stress over the grocery budget. He knew the exact weight of all that produce I would buy. His Holy Spirit prompted me to buy what I did, nothing more or less. God provided the coupons and made the total what it was, and then brought along my mom to help me see the significance. Providence. 

I simply don't believe in coincidence. This experience was a spiritual one, a sign that God has two cents (and so much more!) about our lives. He sees. He cares, even about the little things, especially about the little things, even if those things are only worth two cents in the world's eyes.

My Mother's Legacy

My mom joined her first prayer group sometime when I was in elementary school. I don't remember thinking much about it until we moved to Arizona and she started wearing her pink Moms in Touch button everywhere we went: to school, to the store, to the library, etc. She said she didn't know of any local prayer groups, and she was determined to find one.

Fast forward a few years, and Mom found a group. I don't remember the details. I just know she joined.

Fast forward to my college years, during which Mom was more and more involved in Moms in Prayer. Post-college, Mom was the first one to remind me of the National Collegiate Day of Prayer each year. When a friend of mine (also the daughter of a Moms in Prayer intercessor) asked me if I wanted to meet for weekly prayer, I was on board. We even used Moms in Prayer sheets with the ACTS method of praying as our guide!

My friend and I eventually quit praying together. I think one of us changed jobs. I know I eventually moved. I kept up the practice of making weekly prayer sheets and spending 30 minutes in prayer, however. Thirty minutes was not the length of an actual Moms in Prayer meeting, but it worked for me.

As I've entered my third decade of life, I've continued my prayer practice. It isn't always as regular as I would like, but I do it. My mother, meanwhile, continues in Moms in Prayer. She has taken on more and more responsibilities as time has passed: praying in multiple groups, leading groups, and even serving on the area and state-wide teams. Two years ago, I had the opportunity to go to a Moms in Prayer conference with my mom and my sister-in-law. My sister-in-law was actually pregnant with my niece at the time, so we had three generations present. It was a special time for all of us.

This year for Mother's Day, I bought two prayer shirts from Moms in Prayer. The, "Pray 'Em Up" quote on the shirts referenced the movie War Room, and the talk my mom, sister-in-law, and I heard at the Moms in Prayer conference from Actress Karen Abercrombie. I asked my husband to do a little photo shoot with my mom and I wearing the shirts. It was the most tangible way I could think to document the legacy my mother is leaving me: the legacy of prayer.

My mom has always prayed. She prayed before Moms in Prayer. She prays through Moms in Prayer. She prays outside of Moms in Prayer. I can always text, call, or e-mail Mom with prayer requests and know they are covered. My mom has prayed me through some of the lowest lows and highest highs of my life. I no longer live with or even near my mom, but I feel the power of her prayers, day in and day out. Prayer is Mom's access to a Higher Power, and because Mom taught me to pray, and I prayed a prayer of saving faith many years ago, I now have access to that same power. And Christ's power is the greatest power and legacy of all.

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Happy Mother's Day, Mom, and to all the mothers out there!

Hiking is Healing.

I went hiking for the first time in a long time on Saturday. The hike turned out way longer than I intended, but when I got home, I felt such peace and calm. I texted my mom, "Nature is healing. I think God meant it that way."

Here are five reasons I believe hiking in nature is healing.

1) It causes us to stand in awe of God. Paul David Tripp writes that God created nature to amaze us and point us to God. Romans 1:20 says, "For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that people are without excuse."

2) It reunites us with humanity. There is something equalizing about hiking. Old, young, even the handi-capable can do it (given the right trails). People smile. People help one another. People check in on one another. Common care and concern and compassion emerge.

*With thanks to the nice cyclist who turned me away from walking 16 more miles and checked to make sure I had water to make it back to my car.

3) It reconnects us with our bodies. We live in a society that pushes gym workouts and diets and man-made practices that are generally unsustainable. Hiking gets us out in the fresh air. It helps us feel our bodies. It causes us to recognize true hunger and thirst. It frees us from fast fixes and causes us to check in with what we really need (and hopefully have in our well-stocked packs).

4) It reminds us that we can do hard things. I was tired when I finally turned around on my trail. I didn't want to hike over three miles back to my car. But I did. I reminded myself that if I could run a half marathon, I could do this, and I did. I felt a little sore by the end, but not bad.

5) It gives us perspective. The Spirit speaks to me in the wilderness. I process. I gain new insight. I find renewed hope, fresh vigor, and creative insights. While I cannot always be in nature, I can carry these, it's gifts, back with me.

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Is hiking for everybody? No, maybe not. Is it a substitute for actual therapy? No. But it sure is beneficial, at least for me. Maybe you should try it!

The House That Wasn't

I'd offered on several houses, a lot of houses. Some owners didn't accept my offers. Some houses went to bidding wars. And some houses were sold by time time my realtor and I submitted our paperwork. I'd offered on this house and been declined, too. But then the owners came back. 

"Do you want the house?" They asked through my realtor.

"Well, yes." I replied.

"The other buys were nickel- and dime-ing us," I heard. "So you can have it."

So I started the process. I sent my $1,000 escrow money. I ordered the home inspection. I investigated home warranties and chose one. I went over what the house needed (because it did need some work) and lined up repairmen. We ordered the appraisal. It came back. I made Pinterest boards of what I planned to do with each house and each room. My best friend diagrammed the house and made plans to fly out and help me decorate. I got a roommate. Everything was going swimmingly...until it wasn't. 

On final walk through, mere days before the purchase, my dad crawled under the house one more time "just to make sure" and found water, like lots of water. Monsoon season (aka heavy rains) had just started, and apparently the rain was running under the house instead of around it. I didn't panic just yet, though. I started investigating. But as I investigated, my heart sank. I found out that not only was the runoff an issue, but the whole slope of the land. A repair would mean removing the landscaping in the front and back yards, removing the front and back porches, readjusting the lay of the land, re-landscaping, putting the porches back on, and then fixing the house foundation issues. Oh man!

A real estate investor friend of ours looked at the house and he said he wouldn't buy it if he was me. And he had experience with flipping houses. I was a first time homebuyer, with barely enough money to put for a down payment, and very little time to fix up a house. So I let the house go. I told my roommate, "No."

I was discouraged, distraught, even. I wanted this so bad. And it seemed God had opened all the doors only to slam them in my face. I didn't understand, and perhaps I never fully will.

As the years past that failed home purchase have passed, though, God has in His grace revealed some reasons why that sale didn't go through:

• I needed more time with my family to repair and heal some relationships.
• My job turned out to be way harder and way more time consuming than I expected, and I honestly needed my mom to feed me a lot of nights. Living at home allowed her to do that.
• My mom prayed that I wouldn't move out until I got married. (Thankfully she kept that prayer to herself until I got engaged.)
• My prospective roommate decided to follow the Lord to a different country, and without her help, mortgage payments would have been difficult.
• Living at home allowed me to save more money for a potential future home purchase.
• Not owning a home made it easier to marry and move in with my husband (in that order!) and consider what God had for us versus for me.

God knows what He's doing, friends. Following the Lord is hard, and it often doesn't make sense. But God is good, and His plans work out for our good, even if it does not feel good in the moment, or maybe on this earth. My dream house wasn't. That was hard. But it allowed God to bring to fruition some other dreams, dreams I'd buried or even let go unrecognized. To Him be the glory.

10K Number Two (And Why Social Media is a Highlight Reel)

I've been trying to run more and run longer. Trying to stay healthy. Trying to get ready for maybe something bigger. But it's been a fight. This race was a last minute addition to my schedule. "Maybe you should run another 10K before you commit to more," Mom said. So I signed up. But then my husband was sick. I had days on end of late nights due to getting called out for work. I struggled to sleep and eat enough. Friday, multiple parts of my body were sick. I thought about not running. But I knew I'd probably feel better if I did.

I tried to go to bed early Friday night, but I also knew I needed to eat. So I choked down this cinnamon raisin bread bowl:

And then I got hungry, like insanely hungry. So I drank peanut butter hot chocolate and ate some granola and peanuts. That kind of backfired, though, as my stomach got upset in the night and I didn't feel like eating my planned pre-race banana in the morning. Instead, I stuck with sipping on some electrolyte water.

Mom and I met at a shopping center and car pooled to the race. (Read: I am terrible with directions and would have struggled to make it there myself.) The men folk were busy, so it was just Mom and I. Groom Creek is up in the mountains of Prescott, and this race benefit the local firefighter's association, a cause I wholeheartedly support.

After arriving, we took a few photos and watched the half-marathon launch. I started to get hungry and sucked on a gel. (My supervisor at work gave these to me. The verdict is out on efficacy, BUT it didn't make me sick and assuaged my hunger, which was a plus.)

My race started at 9 am. A previous runner told me this race was easier than Whiskey Row. I disagree. This race was anything but easy. I mean, look at these ups and downs: 

The race also started at a significantly higher altitude. I started off slow, which seems to be the name of my game. But I got faster as I went.

I was really trying to 1) beat my previous pace, 2) keep up with a runner near me, and 3) catch speed on the downhills. [The splits show where those were.]

The result: 55:09 and 3rd place in my division. Praise the Lord.

But here's where social media is a highlight reel. (I said this when I posted on Instagram.) I was out of breath when I finished. I felt like I was getting, but dodged, a bloody nose. I didn't feel like eating afterward and had to force down food again. I had to run like five errands after the race. I didn't see my husband basically all day because he was preparing to be in a wedding. My mom was sick the night before the race, which she told me after we arrived.

Did I enjoy running? Yes. Should I have run? Maybe, maybe not. In the end, I'm glad I did. I'm thankful for the opportunity and the health to do so. But...I don't want to glamorize my life or make it look like things come easily. Life (and running) is work. Sometimes you get out what you put in. Sometimes you don't. Sometimes you need to press through the wall and sometimes you need to rest. Wisdom is rightly assessing all the information and making the best decision for yourself, and for others. That's hard to do. And social media can in no way fully represent that struggle.

Ten kilometers two is a wrap. We'll see what happens from here. Check social media for highlights, but always know there is more to the story.

Blessed

"Likewise, teach the older women to be reverent in the way they live, not to be slanderers or addicted to much wine, but to teach what is good. Then they can urge the younger women to love their husbands and children, to be self-controlled and pure, to be busy at home, to be kind, and to be subject to their husbands, so that no one will malign the word of God."

~Titus 2:3-5

My Mom has set an example for me in so many ways, but as I prepare to get married in a few short weeks, I've been reflecting on all the ways that Mom has imaged for me what it means to be a godly wife:

• Mom reads her Bible and prays daily. This isn't necessarily marriage related, but it's priority related. Christ is a priority for my mom, and because of that, she is able to be a godly spouse.
• Mom gives of herself sacrificially. She recognizes that sometimes denying herself means deepening her relationship with Dad, and she finds satisfaction in that.
• Mom respects Dad. She doesn't boss him around. She doesn't make fun of him. She doesn't demean him. Rather, she respects and honors him, especially in the presence of others.
• Mom is 100% faithful to my dad. Divorce has never been an option, and has never been mentioned in our household.
• Mom speaks her mind, and then submits. Mom is a smart lady and she says what she means, but then she obeys Dad, even if it's hard, because she believes that Dad is her God-given authority.
• Mom is a detail person, but doesn't major on the minors. She accepts that Dad is different than her and she loves him anyway.
• Mom genuinely enjoys spending time with my dad, and she talks about it. She expresses gratitude for the little things he does and gives thanks at all times for him.

Mom doesn't disregard the hard parts of marriage, but she says she wouldn't want to do life without Dad. She always casts marriage in a positive light, as the good gift from God that it is.

So on Mother's Day this year, I'm celebrating Mom, not just as my mother, but as an example of godliness in marriage. May Christ continued to be formed in her, even as He is formed in me.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom!

I love you!

My First 10K

I saw a meme on Pinterest that said:

Yeah, maybe that applies to me. I ran Pat's Run last weekend, and my first 10K today. A long run last week was part of the 10K training I did, but yes, it was still a lot of running. At least this race was local.

The Whiskey Row Marathon is pretty iconic, mostly because of the hills. The 10K I ran accompanied it. The race supports the YMCA, so I felt good about registering, even if I couldn't run (but I'm glad I did.)

I picked up my packet and bib Friday evening at the YMCA. The goody bag wasn't the greatest, but I'm not necessarily in it for the goody bag. I'm in it for the run, and the medal and the t-shirt (if I can have the latter two). 

It had been a long week, so I decided to do a little self-care Friday evening and painted my nails. How funny that the Sally Hansen color was called Red-y to Run!

Wake-up came at 5 am Saturday. I listened to my Bible readings and got ready to go. It was cold! Chris picked me up at 5:45 am.

Unlike last weekend, the roads were dead. Downtown was dead. We kind of just roved around for awhile. But then they started the half-marathon, and the two mile. A Guidance helicopter flew over before my race.

At 7:20 am, the Regulators shot their rifles and we were off! I knew the first part of the course was hilly. I saw a lady from church and she told me where the worst was. (It was bad, but I guess since I made it back down the other side, it doesn't seem as bad now.)

I told myself not to go fast, as I wanted to finish, and have never run a documented 6.2 miles straight before. I wanted to enjoy a little of the scenery along the way, because it was pretty. 

I mean, look at Thumb Butte!

I wanted to finish in an hour if I could, and by my phone pacing, thought I could.

And guess what, I did! The last hill and corner were a little hard, and I was tired, but I finished! And I ran the whole way!

My dad and Mom and fiance were all at the finish line. That was pretty sweet. 

                            

   

And we all went to breakfast afterward. I've wanted to go to Lone Spur Cafe for awhile, and there wasn't even really a wait!

I got the skinny cowboy skillet with basted eggs and raisin toast. (I think the strawberry jam was homemade.) Yum!

Then it was off to run errands, home for a shower, and more errands. I got pretty tired after lunch, so I took a nap.

All in all, it was a good day. 

Praise the Lord! 

Praise the Lord that I was healthy. 

Praise the Lord that I finished. 

Praise the Lord for the support of loved ones.

Praise the Lord for good food.

Praise the Lord for nice weather.

Praise the Lord for rest.

Praise the Lord, and to Him be the glory!