Where Jesus Eats

My friend Amanda is an amazing person. I mean an AMAZING person. I feel so privileged that not only did our paths cross while I lived in Tennessee, but that we became good friends. She, like many other Tennesseans, is exceptionally spiritual and extraordinarily kind.

Back in the beginning of 2012 (yes this post has been sitting in my inbox for that long) Amanda won a contest put on by a local radio station.

"What would she do with 500 chicken

 sandwiches from Chick-Fil-A?" 

Her winning answer will tell you much more about the kind of person Amanda is than I ever could.

"Distribute them to the homeless in Knoxville."

It was no surprise that her answer won from all the entries. Chick-fil-A is well known as a Christian establishment and I am sure whoever chose the winner of the contest, chose correctly in Amanda. The homeless population is extremely high in K-town.

Here is a photo from back in February, of Amanda's three kids handing out sandwiches. 

Amanda explained to me that she had romanticized the whole thing thinking she could pray with each individual and tell them that people cared about them.

Instead her mini-van was mobbed until every last scrap was gone (including her kids lunchbox leftovers) in only a minute and that they were then asked to leave by The Salvation Army who informed them that they were breaking some kind of law.

Amanda and I exchanged an e-mail the other day. I wanted to make sure she was still o.k. with me writing about her experience after all the backlash Chick-Fil-A had received lately. Here is her response,

"Thanks for reminding me of promises, I'd made 6 months ago. It's so easy to let our personal busy take over and not do good on the follow-through. I don't mind a bit if you blog about it and I'm not worried about any backlash. God's got this and He will get all the glory. What we did with Chick-Fil-A was not a publicity or political statement it was a chance to love on people in a very real, practical way." I just LOVE that Amanda. I love how much she cares for others. I love how much she gives her life to others. I love that she is always actively looking for ways to help others and that she goes around constantly making promises to God, even if it will be hard to keep them. I love it that her "fail" is mightier than anyone else's "success."

Real quick I wanted to share a funny story that Amanda told me:

This weekend I was privileged to spend 3 days with our Middle School Ministry at our church.  We had this incredible speaker, Acton Bowen.  Acton is a past youth minister, speaker, and Christian correspondant for Fox News.  He was talking about meeting with one of his friends who was a member of the Black Ops team in the US Armed forces and telling of his many missions.  Acton said that they met at Chick-Fil-a which is "where Jesus eats".

You all can hate on a place because of their stance on gay marriage, that is your prerogative, but please realize that this restaurant is a lot like Amanda. They are always doing a whole lot of good. Oh, and their food is also like Amanda too:
A - MAZ - ING!

Here are a few other good recent news stories about Chick-Fil-A.

Here is a recent car-line in Waynesboro, VA taken by my cousin Jarrett. Chick-fil-A had committed a good portion of their profits to the family of Ethan Blevins, who had recently passed from leukemia complication.

How about the time they opened their doors with free meals to police officers after the Colorado movie theater shootings?

As for me? I love my gay friends. I truly do.
But I want to eat where Jesus eats
and I hope they can be o.k. with it.

For some chick-fil-a funny,
check out this old post.

How to run.

I've had several friends ask me to clue them in on the "how" of my transformation from coach potato to runner. This post is for them and anyone else who can use it.

How to run.

1. Put on a good bra. (This may be important for some of the men out there too)
2. Put on appropriate attire.
(I prefer to be as covered as possible while still being comfortable and appreciate that in other runners, but if you are the kind of person who needs to flaunt it for some type of external motivation, more power to you, but you probably need therapy. How about you therapy folks just do what I did, start running in November in Utah. Then we can all be happy.)
3. Wear good socks.
4. Lace up your shoes.
5. Go outside.
6. Walk for a little while. (Like a couple blocks or a couple of weeks or a couple of months)
7. Realize your body can do more than walk.
8. Start walking faster.
9. Get sick of the burn in your butt and thighs from speed walking, and pick up the pace just a bit more.
10. Appreciate the fact that you are now jogging.
11. Jog until you get tired, which in the beginning may be a block or a half-block or a half of a half-block.
12. Slow to a walk, and take some time to rest your heart. Then make yourself jog some more.Do this until your allotted exercise time is up. Make sure it is at least for a half an hour, but an hour makes it more fun. Quit for the day. Walk back home. (If you are smart you would have turned back toward home halfway into your allotted time)
13. Memorize the spots where you started to jog and the spots that you just had to stop.
14. Two days later, walk to the same spot in #11, and when you get there, see if you can jog a little farther this time. (Yes, when you are a runner, you get a day in between runs to rest!)
15. Repeat #8-14, for as long as it takes.
16. Sign up for a 5k.
17. One day decide that you aren't going to stop jogging until you hit the 3.2 mile mark.
18. Congratulate yourself because you are now more than a jogger. You are a real runner.
19. Repeat #16-18, as you will want need a faster time and there's no better motivator than a race.
20. Somewhere along the way, you will find that 3.2 is just not long enough, and you will keep running past the 3.2 mark, you will change your running routes to work in hills, you will have used up 3 pairs of shoes, you will run at different times of the day, you will be working your running into your schedule like it's your 5th child, you will love every second of solace, you will enjoy every time you feel winded and just have to spit or get a drink, you will love the hills, you will love the down-hills, you will watch your shadow day after day, you will be cranky if you haven't had a run in over 2 days, you will run with friends (maybe only at races), you will stay after the races just to hang out with other runners even though you never win a prize, you will find yourself to be one of those obnoxious ladies at the baby shower who is suddenly surrounded by other runners comparing speed work techniques and running times and injury management, you will exceed your race goal and wonder if you are ready for the half yet, you will wonder why in the world you didn't start sooner, and most of all you will be hooked for life.

To this I solemnly swear.
Amen.

Just do it.
Running is cheap and takes little coordination.
All that is required is mind over matter.
I wouldn't call it easy, but if it was easy then it wouldn't be so awesome.
It does get easier the more you do it.
I'm not going to lie, it also gets harder, but that is the miracle of it, the harder it becomes, the better equipped you are to handle it, which means you are STRONGER!

Watching My Shadow

When the sun is just right and I happen to be running in the right direction, I get some really good self reflection time. You see, when I run, I am often looking at the ground. I do this because I am still getting in optimum shape and I have a running form that is too tired and downtrodden. I also do this because I am watching for safety hazards like raodkill, left-behind tires, or just the occasional pothole or change in ground level. (The trauma of staring a deer smack in the face while quickly jumping over her is one that will not be ever forgotten. That day that my typical "downward watch" was off and my "watch out for cars that are trying to run you over" position was on left my pulse racing.) I also look down because every time I see a coin I feel lucky, and once while running I found a mangled wedding band that I turned in for money to buy new running shoes. I don't always look down as there is so much to take in in all directions but looking at the ground is a necessary part of running.

O.k. I've got the looking down part covered. Didn't want to leave you with any questions.Well, when I am looking down and the sun and my direction are optimal I get the best runners' treat of all: my shadow. For the past 10 months, I've been watching my shadow. I watch it run. It has shrunk by 40 pounds, which in shadow world isn't much, but to me is ginormous. I watch my knees lifting and dropping and my arms swing front and back.  I watch the hairs of my head fly in the wind and the sleeves of my shirt flap.I watch the shapes in all their glory. Often I grieve over the backside, but more often I revel in all my glory. I shake my head in disbelief and then quickly remind my shadow with a nod that I am a runner. Backside and all.

It does something to you, to tell yourself that you are a runner.When you watch your shadow month after month and mile after mile, it changes you. It changes your very nature. When I wasn't a runner I was much less likely to look for rigorous outdoor activities, now, I seek them out. "C'mon guys, let's go on a hike!, how 'bout a bikeride?, we could walk down to the library just for fun, it's just a mile." As a runner, I can be more honest with myself. I can be in a place of serenity knowing that I have improved, no matter how much farther I have to go. Most of all, as a runner, I feel strong. I feel worthy. I feel reflective. I feel loved by the person who matters most: me. I feel like I can handle any obstacle, no matter how senseless, even if it's an unexpected dead deer. "What? A dead deer! Oh, no problem, I'll just hop right over", all in a second's thought process. It's like I'm a female Bourne and it feels omnipotent.

I am sure there are other ways to feel this good, but running is my way. Running and writing. Watching my monitor with my fingers flying over the keyboard underneath is a similar sensation. I think I like my running shadow the most, it speaks to me, and tells me I am a living miracle for the sole purpose that I have a body and I use it to move. And when I am moving, I love myself. When I am moving, I strengthen my body, and utilize my mind at its fullest to conquer all life's challenges, even if as simple as how am I going to afford my next pair of shoes. Once in a blue moon it all comes together, my physical, mental, and spiritual world collide and God puts a banged up wedding band in my path and my shadow says, "Awesome!"

Coming soon - how I started running - just for Dorry.

My Love

Happy 15th anniversary to my love.

Yesterday.

He got a ukulele

and no action at all

because I just had a miscarriage

and it was the best anniversary yet

because he needs nothing from me.

Nothing at all to love me.

It's his unconditional gift

and I am the luckiest girl in the world.

My love is bottomless.

It goes on forever.

Like through a black hole and back.

Or up to Jupiter

and all around it

and through it 

to the next solar system

and then back

and then back again.

It would take the strongest hurricane ever

to spread the true power of my love for you.

Of course the hurricane would

have to travel the whole earth.

It would take a mouse's 

smallest tiniest squeak

to fitfully stand as the opposite my 

loudest declaration

of love.

The prettiest fullest

most colorful flower fields

are not as beautiful to me

as your smile

or your eyes

or your hands

or your laugh

and especially your tears.

The happy and the sad.

The grandest canyon

which we witnessed together

as we stood in awe

is not even as miraculous

as how I feel for you.

Even the great Pacific

that gently caresses

the shore

while the sun falls

in majesty

is not as glorious

as what we share.

And I sit

to try and

put words to

communicate

how I feel about you

and nothing comes

that can do it justice

because 

I know that

no matter how much

I love you today

and no matter how huge

that love feels

like my heart is going to explode

somehow

tomorrow

my love will be even greater.

Every day with you adds

a universe to travel,

another canyon to explore,

a garden planted,

and an ocean shore.

How can I express that?

How can I tell our future?

The slowest person

may be the last to laugh.

And that person may be me

every time

but I know I will be o.k

because you will always be at my side

and you

will always laugh first

because you are miraculous

and you will always be smarter than me

but that is one of the may infinitesimal

reasons I love you.

And I will always love you

and that love will always be growing.

It will never ever stop.

Just like our lives together.

Eternal.

Totally mind-blowing.

Completely flustering

because I am not smart enough to understand it

but I know one thing

the only thing that is important.

My love for you

needs time to never end

because it needs

that much time to grow

to reach it's fullest potential.

You're Beautiful

I've been struggling for months.
I couldn't pin-point what was going on.
I thought it was just part of the grief of losing my nephew,
and it partially was, but it started before we lost Braxton.
I was angry.
I just got angrier.
For months I didn't want to pray.
I didn't want to go to church.
I didn't want to read the scriptures.
I just wanted to stew,
and get angrier about all the unfairness of life.

I spent a night at the cabin with a few friends last week,
and we took the time to have a honest share with one another.
I was floored by the experience.
Just a few moments of humble and honest self-reflection
completely turned me around.

I was able to see a part of me that I already identified long ago.
I was able to see the part of me that went straight
to pride and anger
as to protect myself from the hurt or disappointment.

I was angry because I felt like I could never measure up.
I was angry that people around me didn't appreciate me.
I was angry because I didn't want to need God.
I was angry because I was hurt.
I was sad, so I was angry.
My subconscious thinks it's easier to be angry.
But it's not.
Pride is destructive.
Anger is a form of pride.

After two seconds of honest reflection,
I immediately felt God telling me it's o.k.
I am just human doing the best I can.
He wasn't mad at me.
He was glad that I finally figured it out.
I don't need to be angry.
I need to be vulnerable
and let God heal.

I most of all needed to re-understand that
I am not alone.
We all need God.
We all need to be told that we are beautiful.

 

Book Review: The Care and Handling of Roses with Thorns

I did receive compensation for the review of this book, but have only expressed my honest opinion.
Go here to join me for the BlogHer Book Club discussion.


The Care and Handling of Roses with Thorns by Margaret Dilloway
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I consider myself a rose with thorns. In fact, because I consider everyone in this world a rose with thorns (some have more than others), I was very intrigued from the first time I read the title of this book. Come to find out I was right when I knew from the very title that I would love this book. I knew the author would be addressing my favorite topic in any piece of fiction or fact: the relationships of man to man (or in this case woman to girl, woman to multiple men, and woman to herself.) I know what it is like to live a daily struggle of trying to create deep meaningful relationships while addressing and dealing with my own personal thorns. It's what we call life and this book was full of it.

This book follows the story of two main characters: a teacher with two non-working kidneys who also loves to raise roses, and her teenage niece who has lived a long life of neglect and sorrow. I don't want to tell you what happens in the story because honestly I couldn't bare depriving you of the pleasure of following the story-line for yourself. It takes twists and turns through many other just as thorny but delightful characters. It's a feel-good story and it makes you ponder your own character and your own priorities.

The author writes from teacher Gal's point of view. Gal calls herself difficult and obstinate and explains that so are roses. "That's why I like the roses so much." I found this statement beautifully profound. If all of us can just learn to love each other past our thorns this world would be such a better place. A brighter place. And sometimes when we are lucky even a world full of sweet fragrance. (Read the book to understand that last metaphor - it explains in interesting detail how rose-breeders hope that good luck will smile in their direction with a sweet smelling hybrid) It's always another plus for a book when you read it for the story-line, but find yourself learning about a subject that you would never research otherwise. I will think of this book every time I smell the sweet roses planted out front of my house.

This is a four star book. If it was longer I may have given it 5. I highly recommend this book to all my friends. It was truly a joy to read. I plan to add Dilloway's debut novel How to Be An American Housewife to my list of must-reads.




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Funnies

Abigail woke me up this morning by climbing in my bed with a newspaper. She then proceeded to tell me about everything she read of any interest.

For a moment I had a deep sense of parental pride telling myself I've done a great job of teaching my oldest to love to read. She is reading the newspaper!! How many 13 year old kids out there read the newspaper regularly?

I then looked up from my game of i-scrabble to shoot a photo, only to catch her reading the funnies.

As she caught me snapping her photo I said,"You need to read something besides the funnies so you can look smart."

Her reply,"Well, I was just reading my horoscope."

I then congratulated myself fur raising kids who are not only smart, but also have totally awesome senses of humor (even though I am not too certain she was attempting humor.)

That's just how I like to roll as a parent. Patting myself in the back occasionally really helps during those dark moments when I, like every parent out there, realize that I've screwed them up in some way.

Abigail then proceeded to pose for a better photo. What a gem. She's pretty much perfect at this given moment. Now let's go check out the cleanliness of her room.

40 pounds

Our landlord came over today.

We've never met in person before.

The only place she has ever seen me

is on my blog.

Coincidentally, my blog is how she

decided to rent to us last April.

She walked in the house

and said,

"Wow, you look so different than I expected.

You look so different than your blog."

I said,

"I've lost forty pounds since that blog photo."

Then she said she could really tell

and that I should update my photo.

I decided to do a little experiment and take a photo to compare.

I do believe there is a difference.

A toddler size difference.

The side by side was validation

for all that running

and calorie counting.

I so wish I could have a baby without gaining

that forty pounds back.

But, I am grateful for the knowledge 

that my parents raised me to have.

Family is what matters most.

And guess what?

I have a family that loves me

no matter what size I am.

And I have four wonderful children

who are extremely grateful to me

for not placing my appearance

at such a high priority that

they were completely erased

from this world.

I know of many women

who determine their self-worth

by size.

I want you all to know

that I was just as important 

to my God, my husband, and my children

in that before picture.

And I will keep that picture on my blog,

even though I can now change it out for a skinnier version

because I love me

and I love that those old pounds represent

the time I spent with my children

and the months I gave to growing them inside of me

instead of obsessing at the gym

to please people in a world that

have screwed up priorities.

Yes, I feel a million times better

now that I exercise regularly

and eat healthier.

And yes there are women

out there who look great

and can have babies and go back to 

pre-baby size the day after birth.

Yes, there are women who

are healthy and not unhealthily obsessed with their weight.

Yes, yes, yes.

But me, I am probably going to gain my

forty pounds back

and I will probably gain more back after

the next baby is born

because having a newborn is stressful to me

and I get so tired

and choose to take care of my kids

over myself.

I may do better this time

as I have made great progress in 

the taking care of me category.

Or I may not.

But in the end,

I will have made the choice that matters most.

And that makes me happy

with the before and after pictures.

Book Review: Carnival Girl

I received a free copy of this book in exchange for my review, 

and both the free book and the read were awesome!

I am busy enjoying the holiday (Happy 4th) with my family, but I received a really exciting e-mail from Sonja that she is willing to guest post or let me interview her for my blog! I hope to take advantage of that in the very near future.

Carnival Girl: Searching for God in the Aftermath of War by Sonja Herbert
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Carnival Girl was a fantastic read. The touching and intriguing memoir chronicles the life of author Sonja Herbert as she is raised in post-World War II Germany with her nomadic large family who works the carnival circuit. Can you imagine living in a camper with five siblings forever? You move on a weekly basis and long for a permanent home like those of the children that you usually only get to know for a week. This was Sonja's upbringing. Sonja vividly portrays throughout her beautiful memoir how much she just longed for a normal life, but I am so glad that God had something else in mind for her because it made for an intriguing and enlightening read.

I don't want to give spoilers but I will tell you that at some point late in the book Sonja is introduced to two American Mormon missionaries. However Sonja's interest in the Mormon church is a side-story and I do believe that this book can be enjoyed by any person, religious or not. In fact, if you aren't religious, you will probably relate well to Sonja's parents: one a bitter atheist and the other an a-typical Catholic.

Something that I enjoyed the most from this book was Sonja's great faith from a very early age and how God strengthened her to endure and taught her to be comforted in some really hard circumstances. I also related to some of Sonja's confusion to when her prayers weren't answered.

I imagine that Sonja's mother is dead by now, and so it won't be too disrespectful to say it, but as a mother of 4, I truly marveled at how much of a burden her children were to her. Of course, I have never raised 6 kids in a caravan while also running a carnival, but part of me was so sad that Mutti (Sonja's mom) never seemed to enjoy her children. However I also related to Mutti. I recently found I out that I am pregnant at 38 with number 5 and I swear this snippet from the book could transcend through time to my bedroom just a few nights ago:

"From our caraven, Mutti's loud voice rang out with a harsh edge. 'I can't believe this happened again,' she said. 'I'm almost forty!'
'Maybe you should see someone,' Vati ventured.
'That's dangerous.' Mutti's voice wavered. 'Besides, it's the end of the winder, and we don't have that kind of money. Later it will be too late.'
A pause.
'Don't cry,' Vati said. 'It's not the end of the world.'
'What do you know?' She sobbed. 'I can't believe you'd do that to me again.'"

Not just in this small chapter that I related with so well, but throughout the book, I was drawn to Sonja, her family, her circumstances. They were most peculiar, sometimes heartbreaking, but always extremely fascinating and educational.

I highly recommend this book to all my readers. I don't think anyone would be disappointed in learning all about the carnival girl of all carnival girls.

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