Time is relative

I have been holding back in posting more about our gift baby.  He needs lots of care and attention.  Plus, I wanted to give myself and my family lots of time and space to make an authentic, spirit-led, decision about adoption, to stop knocking on the doors to Casey's heart, to step back, get out of the way, and give them room to open. You see, when you are thrown a curve ball it is easy to duck.  When our expectations aren't met, when we think we are aligned with God's will and then we are surprised unexpectedly it is easy to say "no", this isn't how it was supposed to go.  This isn't what God wants for me.  This is when prayerful reflection is needed most. 

We became foster-adoptive parents to adopt a girl between the ages of 10-14.  We had a neat little plan to build our family without adding "parenting years" onto our marriage.  Wow, typing that I realize how selfish that sounds.  Trust me, we had great intentions.  We also truly and honestly wanted an older child because they are so much less likely to be adopted.  We wanted a girl because we don't have one.  Casey wanted a daughter to walk down the aisle, and I wanted a daughter with whom I could journey motherhood.  We wanted to be witness to the life of a daughter.  We still hope for that.  Our problem was in thinking that we had it all figured out. 

Isn't that how it happens?  Just when you think you have it all figured out, "the joke's on you".  In late April 2013, when we said "yes" to fostering gift baby we thought he was passing through our lives.  We all prepared not to take ownership of him.  He wasn't ours.  I have said "no" to plenty of foster placements for various reasons, but this time I just couldn't do it.  I couldn't.  I convinced myself, "I will love him well, and then he will move on." It happened slowly, the way dusk creeps in on children at play.  There is a huge, yet subtle difference between loving and caring for a child, and loving and taking ownership of them as your own.  It felt intrusive to take ownership of a child whose mother I hoped would heal for him.  I wouldn't do that to either of them.  I couldn't do that.  But he pried my heart open and crawled inside.  Over time I died to my plan, and accepted this as God's plan, at least for now.  What a beautiful plan too!  I get to love and be loved by a beautiful soul I wouldn't know had I said, "no" on the grounds that he was not a girl between the ages of 10-14.

As time wore on, both of our boys began to refer to him as their, "little brother".  First, during introductions.  Then, when they were playing with him.  As the days slipped from one to another it was as if he had always been a part of our family, as if he were meant for us.  His personality is a blend of the older two boys.  He shares their love of music, their sense of humor, even some of their quirks from when they were babies!  The similarities are uncanny.  Eventually, holding him ceased to be a duty and became a privilege.  He ceased to exist out side of myself, but became an extension of me.  His coos would come to me like enchanted notes carried on a warm breeze from a distant violin.  They began to make me revel with joy for his existence, and every morning and afternoon I waited with anticipation for him wake up.   

Casey agreed to adopt him, in writing.  He was still nervous about all those plans he hadn't yet let die.  I wasn't.  A new plan, more beautiful than any we could plan, had unfurled before me day by day.  The time came to change gift baby's placement goal.  Fostercare adoption isn't linear.  It isn't easy.  In one instant they are going to be yours forever, and the next the could be ripped from your arms.  This caused us to deny the depth of our feelings for him, but it was something we naively thought we might avoid. When this possibility reared its ugly head at us things really changed.  That's when we had to be really honest with ourselves.  Until that point it had been easy for both of us to pretend that we could go back to "normal" if baby boy left us.  Facing this reality caused us to realize that things were never going to be the same.  The boys and I especially, would grieve a lost child if he were to go.  The idea caused my heart to twist and palpitate in my chest. 

We sat on seat edge for two weeks waiting to find out if he would be staying or going.  During that time, I tried to distance my heart from his and couldn't.  Instead he became even more a part of me.  I was sleepless, praying in my bed, as shadows washed over me, for the strength to follow His plan.  Questioning Him, "why would you do this to us? I don't understand why."  Then the day came when I found out what was really happening (can't wait to tell you all some day).  The social worker gave me a speech on timing, the time line, and the legalities currently being adhered too.  As the social worker explained to me what was going on, and what her goals for him were I realized I could have slept well if I had a little more faith.  Not because she was telling me what I had longed to hear, "he is absolutely yours."  No.  I realized, who am I to question "the Plan"?  His timing is perfect, it isn't my timing.  I don't get what I want when I want it.  I get what I need when I need it.  We needed to have that epiphany right now.  We needed a reality check.  We needed to come together.  I needed to understand that I am not in control.  That I need to let go and trust God to do his thing.  That is HUGE for me!  I grew from knowledge to understanding through experience.  It is a dangerous thing indeed to mistake knowledge for understanding, and humbling to realize that is exactly what you have done. 

We love him.  He is ours (for sure right now, but I hope forever).  We love him.  I literally feel as if he has been birthed through me these last few weeks.  Hearing his voice cause me to swell to bursting with joy.  Witnessing him experience life makes me feel so lucky, so blessed.  It is a privilege, I am proud of him, and proud to be thought of as his mother.  I can't explain how this bond builds just yet.  It as strong as my bond with the other boys.  He will always be a part of us, and us a part of him.  No matter what.  I am thankful.  I am so incredibly thankful.  The last few months have humbled me beyond measure, and taught me that in my darkest moments I have the most to be thankful for.  I have experienced that in darkness God truly is working the most in me and for me.  I had knowledge of that truth before this, but I did not understand.  I have experienced that God really is good all the time.  I have experienced God.  Again.  This time more beautifully and fully than I could imagine.  I am but a speck, and yet he carefully tends my every need.  He often does this in spite of my moaning and lack of gratitude.     

It has also taught me that I need to listen more carefully to that still small voice inside of me when it shares the good as well as the bad.  How many times do we look in on possibilities, as if we are standing in the doorway to a room filled with joyful strangers, horrified to step in, but desperately longing to?  That little voice that says, "you can do this.  This would be good for you." often gets ignored while we listen to all the reasons we can't or shouldn't.  How long have we spend languishing in doorways?  Don't listen to that negative voice (unless you are planning to take a barrel of Niagara Falls, then listen to it) telling you why you can't.  Take the step, and trust in God's timing. 

http://youtu.be/SXaSWUvTb8w

TO HONOR AND CHERISH... MY declaration to self.

I took the Myers-Briggs II yesterday.  Not because I'm curious about what "Type" I am, I'm an INFJ.  I know what that means (see Page and yes, I have spidey senses perhaps someday I'll be brave enough to devote a page to them).  Not because a type DEFINES you, it doesn't, but because it is a resource, a lens to view how I prefer to interact with the world,  Since I have a great idea of what my preferences are, I had the luxury of using this Indicator to see if I was honoring my preferences.  I needed to know where I wasn't being true to myself.  I feel disjointed, out of sorts.  I'm not reacting to situations in ways that sit well with me.  I'm acting out of character, and until yesterday I didn't know why.  I won't bore anyone with the details.  Instead, the following is my declaration.

I have a tender heart.  Intolerance, insensitivity, rudeness, ESPECIALLY when not directed at me HURTS me.  It makes me sad, for you.  That most definitely doesn't mean I don't like you.  I DO LIKE YOU (I like pretty much everyone, and find the best in people).  In fact I'd like to help you, because I know you do it because you are unhappy.  It just means I can't be around you often.  It means I'm here to help you when you are ready to find happiness.  I need to guard my heart a bit, from negativity so that I can keep it soft and tender for those that need tenderness.  Just because I don't let you in, doesn't mean you are locked out.  I need to be sure I feel safe with friends, and those in my life so that I can be free to use what is probably one of my greatest gifts without shame or fear whenever the need arises.  I haven't had the easiest life, so I am already a little too sparing with it as it is.  When I guard my tenderness, I become VERY hard and cold (with people close to me I can seem this way anyway because I have high expectations for them... though never as high as the expectations I have for myself).  I'm not hard or cold, and It hurts me when I treat others this way.

Next, I am NOT logical.  Sure I have great logical thinking skills, but I make decisions FIRST, based on my intuituion, and then search for logic to support them so that I can defend my choices to others. Some times i don't even know why make the choices i make, i just know it is the RIGHT choice.  that can be very frustrating for a person with great skills in logic!  In all honesty, I've made pretty much EVERY decision in my life based on feelings and personal values, and I LOVE MY LIFE!  When I try too hard to be logical I end up being grouchy, because in many situations the logical choice goes against my intuition, and what I FEEL I should do.  Like adoption for instance, or my decision to marry my husband, or to keep my baby, to join the Army... Pretty much none of my favorite choices have been the logical choice.  I just KNOW what is right for me.  I much prefer to interact with people, make decisions etc. in ways that are personal and in line with what I believe, not based on what makes logical sense.  When I'm not true to this preference I only end up feeling sorry for myself for not following my heart.  I project this self pity, by lashing out in anger, at whoever I think is at fault (usually my husband because some how everything is his fault ;) LOL).  When I follow my brain instead of my heart I get SUPER out of wack, because while I'm good at logical thinking, I pretty much suck at logical functioning... This is probably the area of second most concern for me.

Finally, I NEED structure, routine, efficiency, concrete expectations and plans.  I actually crave it.  I am NOT a  go with the flow type.  I sure would like to be.  Everyone likes them better.  ;)  However, probably due to some childhood things, I have never learned to do this for myself.  I suck at deadlines, I don't know how to implement structure and routine for myself.  It's VERY hard for me.  So if I seem to be totally unavailable for weeks or months its probably because I am avoiding distractions while I attempt to give myself something I desperately need... STRUCTURE.  This Army Wife life only makes it that much harder (this is where that logical thinking is great.  Otherwise the Army's lack of efficiency might make me even crazier than the lack of schedule already does!).  However, I'm a terrific planner.  Give me a PCS move or a hurricane and I will really shine!  So this is my declaration of truth to myself.  These are things I need to honor within myself.  If don't, I worry I'll become a cold, hard, grouchy, moody, lazy, unorganized and distant person who never achieves her dreams or uses her God given gifts.

Night song

He crouches at
the window on
fragile arms and legs so
easily broken,
a Grasshopper of
a boy.
The curtains whip
easily around him pregnant
with night air and spontaneous
melodies birthed by
a faceless back yard
musician.  Round
silky notes run a way
from the plucked strings
of a phantom guitar and are
soaked up by his
frail body perched on
curled white toes and
long fingers that
press delicately into
his mattress, leaving
not the slightest dent.
Unnatural.
The music fills him up to flooding
and A smile rises from deep with
in, works up his spine with a jerk
and presses outward pushing up his soft
silvery cheeks.  He comes alive under the stars
and darkness and canopy of leaves.  11 years
of living and he is has mastered
the Dance; knowing
which moments to take pause and which
to let pass by on the breeze.

Coming out of the Closet

While I have been a Christian my entire life, not because my parents made me, but because I have a gift.  A gift of child-like faith.  I haven't always admitted it.  I wasn't gifted with the courage I needed to live that faith.  I went along just fine living what I believed until I hit serious opposition, until it got hard, college.  Then I retreated into myself.  I pulled my beliefs safely into a closet out of sight of people that would assume that because I believed in Jesus I was diluted, a non-intellectual, a prude, a judgmental bible thumping fundamentalist.  I was none of those things. I AM none of those things.  Neither are most of the Christian's I know.  Just read John Acuff's blog today.

There is one problem with putting what you believe in a closet.  Your life becomes a lie.  You begin to live according to someone else's rules so that you can divert attention away from what you've hidden in the closet.  This happens very slowly, with small compromises so that you hardly notice the affects.  Eventually, instead of your life being a testament to what you stand for, your life becomes a testament to what other people stand for.  This was quite ironic in my case, as I have always stood for following your heart, stepping to the beat of your own drummer.

My husband and I, during this time still left ourselves open to do God's will.  We were willing to move cross country, to let God lead us in family decisions.  We trusted him with the unexpected news of Cooper's pregnancy and the hardships of my pregnancy with Will.  We went to church most Sundays at first, but eventually stopped.  However, most of our friends wouldn't have known this based on the way we lived our lives daily.    We were living as Peter after the crucifixion.  It is impossible to, as they say "live in the spirit" when you won't profess your faith.  I actually have to use scripture to explain this further.  "Light" is God/Christ, and we are led to the light by following the inspirations of the Holy spirit. "For everyone who does wicked things hates the light and does not come toward the light, so that his works might not be exposed but whoever LIVES the truth comes to the light, so that his works may be clearly seen as done in God." (John 3:20)  I think wicked is a bit much, but I got the point.

After we moved to Virginia I bought myself a bible, after having several disturbing dreams (that is another post or even page entirely).  It was my first bible since High School.  Having been an English Major in college, and having taught Literature for 4 years, I had a new lens on this "literary" work.  I am not one that reads in a linear fashion.  I tend to read a bit on a page and flip through until I find something else interesting, this made my college years interesting.  I was doing this in my new bible when I stumbled upon John 3:20 and realized that there was no duality in life.  That I had to LIVE what I believed.  I realized that "live" and "love" when used in the Bible are VERBS, as they should be in life.  Parables and metaphors I once glazed over came to life and hit me right in the face.  "whoever loves his life will lose it, and whoever hates his life in this world will preserve it for eternal life." "Life" in this passage was what Joseph Campbell calls the "right hand path" or the the life society tells you to live.  The life society values, which is in direct conflict with the path valued by most spiritual teaching.  This made sense to me finally!  As did "if the world hates you, realize that it hated me first" (John 15:18) and "In the world you will have trouble, but take COURAGE.  I have conquered the world" (John 16:33).

Being as intellectual as I am the depth of the words I was reading and their applicability to life, to my life was like a long drink for a seriously dehydrated mind.  I could almost feel my sad, emaciated brain plump up.  It was then that I realized the impossibility of being true to myself while refusing to live my faith ACTIVELY.  Just as it is impossible to stay married if you lock your love for your spouse away in your heart, and never SHOW it in action to your spouse.  They won't know you FEEL love for them if you don't act loving toward them.  You must live your feelings/beliefs ACTIVELY.  I would gain courage, and knowledge to face the criticism if I faced it.

In all reality the Bible dovetails perfectly with all the things I know of Eastern Religions, The writings of the Dali Lama, Carl Jung, Aristotle, Plato, and Joseph Campbell's lectures (ie: There is ONE world Mythology).  We are all living within the context of that mythology, within the context of the bible.  They all point in the same direction, even if they use different vernaculars, and lexicons they are all rationalizing the same thing.  As offensive as it may seem, the truth I found is that Christianity calls a spade a spade.  We are all either living in and working toward the light; denying ourselves those "earthly pleasures", those "pleasures of the flesh" that are immediately gratifying and ultimately self-destructive.  In the light we work toward our best self, toward thinking and living positively, and bettering our world.  Or we are living in the darkness gratifying ourselves, living only to satisfy our temporary earthly desires and ultimately hurting ourselves and the world around us with our selfishness, bitterness, and negativity.  As humans, and this is scientifically backed, we default to self-gratification and negativity if we are left to our own devices.  We need something greater than ourselves to pull ourselves out of the "darkness".  If we aren't living in the light we are living in the darkness.  This isn't to say that some people live in the light and refuse to acknowledge it is the light of God.  They call it something else,something more PC.  I got tired of talking around the truth.  This why it was impossible for me to be a "closet Christian".

I realized couldn't live in the light at home, and in the darkness out in the world.  The habits and values of the world are in such contrast with the values that drive me from within, my "Bliss" as Campbell would call it, the "Holy Spirit" as we Christian's call it.  This is why my coming out of the "closet" may seem abrupt to some, when in fact it hasn't been.  If I am to be honest with myself, I must follow that inner drive regardless of where I am, who I am with.  If anything the bible, the Catechism, and even Joseph Campbell give me the strength call a spade a spade, to take my life back and say, "Yes, I am Christian and intellectual".  Now, I let my life be proof.

His life NOT mine

Me: Coopman, you really are a gift from God.  (His middle name is Zane meaning: Gift from God)
Coop: You know Mom, I was thinking about that today!  I mean, there is nothing wrong with me.  I am perfect (he means physically).  That has to be a miracle, right?
Me: Yeah, I'd say.  With my faulty genetics, you won the lottery!  It's more than that though. you know.
Coop: What do you mean?  I just meant that I was easy on you because I'm never sick, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with me ever.
Me: That's true.  I think you've had a handful of colds as an infant, and maybe the flu, what like 3 times?
Coop: yeah, 3 times.
Me: You were more than just abnormally healthy though Cooper.  That was of course a HUGE blessing.
Coop:  Yeah, I mean you could just take me out with a coat in the winter when I was baby and be like, 'here you go!' and I wouldn't get sick or anything!
Cheeky little cuss.
Me: yeah, I'm sure we did that to you... Oops.  But I mean that we didn't have to baby proof our house for you, we didn't have to worry about anything with you.  There were no unseen hazards for your dad and I because you seemed to know what they were and to avoid them on your own.
Coop: Well, Will definitely didn't do that for you.
He's totally right here, but we'll just ignore that statement.
Me: Well, it was like you were a grown up from the moment you were born.  Almost like God knew I needed to be eased into this "parenting thing".
He loses interest now and starts talking to me about Pokemon.
This conversation is much deeper to the two of us than it seems.  Because he knows what I'm about to say.

I thought about aborting him.  There I said it out loud.  Go ahead and judge me. I didn't want to be mother yet.  Sure I was engaged to the man of my dreams, and I knew he'd want to keep the baby.  I knew he'd do everything necessary to provide for us both.  I had done everything I had been told to do to prevent this, it wasn't fair.  That's why between hearing, "No Miss Cooper, you're not anemic... You're pregnant" and going back to my future husband's apartment I stopped at a park to think it over.  There would be no choosing what I wanted once I told Casey, because it would kill him if I aborted our baby. No, if I didn't want to keep the baby he could never know.  I wanted to have a choice in the matter, even if contemplating the "unspeakable" went against everything that was Catholic.  The girl who marched in Pro-Life rallies wanted a choice.

I sat in my beater of a car at the park and bawled and bawled and bawled to the barren trees, to my steering wheel, to a God I wanted to be mad at.  I couldn't be mad at God though, I DID THIS TO ME.  I thought of all things that would be ruined.  I was captain of a Division I track team.  How would I tell the team.  I had a scholarship, what if I lost it.  I had been running REALLY well, and was on track to break records, and win things, all that would be lost.  I didn't once think about the life in my womb.  It was simply an inventory of all the things I COULDN'T do if I kept this baby.  I had just bought a fitted coat.  I'd out grow it in a few months.  My body wouldn't be mine anymore.  I cried and screamed and slammed on the steering wheel until my throat felt stiff as steal, and I was sure my hand was broken.  Then, limp with exhaustion I numbly sat and counted the dots in the steering wheel cover until I was so cold I had to restart my car.

By: National Catholic Register 

Then I thought of living a lie for the rest of my life with the one person that mattered the most to me, just so I could get my name in small print in Track Meet programs.  No one looks at those names,  no one cares.  I took a deep breath.  Looked down and said, "Fine.  You Win."  I'm not sure I was talking to the fetus, or to God at the time.  In then end I was talking to both.  When I got to the apartment and told Casey the news he wrapped his arms lifted me in the air and spun me around.  His excitement incited a slowly building rage inside of me.  A long angry pregnancy was followed by severe Postpartum depression.  In fact, my husband was sole caretaker for our son for nearly the first 6 months of his life.  While I gave him his middle name, I certainly didn't see him as a gift until he was about 9 months old.  Even at that young age, when people would yell "Go Annie" he would cry.  Perhaps worried for me?  Perhaps he longed for me?  He didn't cry when they yelled, "Go Angie" or "Go Casey" or "Go ______".  Only my name.  He loved me anyway.

It was definitely a blessing that he was eerily healthy, and eerily well behaved.  He might not have survived other wise!  We were two young twenty somethings that had athletic obligations to fill and degrees to finish.  He DID go out in winter without a coat, and didn't get sick.  This little boy had a quiet humor and uncanny ability to sense and appropriately react to the emotions of those around him.  By the time he was 2 I was totally smitten and ever since have worked with fervor to be the mother he deserves, though strangely thoughts of a broken bond were something I never worried about.  Probably because he has always been so tender and warm towards me, even though I didn't deserve it.  So broken bonds just weren't on the radar, until I sat down to write this.  Another blessing? He truly is the best thing that ever happened to me, even if I didn't see it at the time.  Without him I would have been content in my selfishness, dilutedly thinking I was happy.  He has, for me, exemplified grace, and gives me a higher purpose.  He makes me want to be better than I am.

Because of Cooper I learned that just because we think we are happy doesn't mean we are.  Conversely, just because we don't like the situations that befall us doesn't mean we can't be happy anyway.  Happiness is inside of us, not outside of us.  Happiness is everywhere, once we find it in ourselves we can find it anywhere if we look for it.  Memories of those times when we are happy can help us through those time when we aren't.  Happiness is in surrender and acceptance, two things I (a confessed control freak) will always struggle with.  My struggle is less now than it was, not just because of the unexpectedness of the event Cooper being introduced into my life, but in who he is.  Cooper's presence and person frequently remind me that my life is BEST when I don't try to control it, but instead turn it over to God.  That when I try and fail to be the best person I can be I will be loved anyway.  I marvel at him everyday.  I love that kid.  I can't imagine life without him.  The world is better because he is in it.  He truly is a "Gift from God", not just for me, but for you.

Birth Right

Shameless stolen from "Marley's Mama"

We have been reading "The Hunger Games" out loud as a family.  It has sort of taken over our lives.  My husband called me on lunch yesterday, "Hunger Games tonight" he said.  He walked in the door just after 4:30, "Ready to read the Hunger Games?"  Oh sure, never mind dinner, homework, or that I've had the flu.  The man has become absorbed.  Alright, maybe he isn't the only one.  Needless to say the boys were up until 9 pm while we finished reading the last 6 chapters of Book one.  We read through the preparation and consumption of our dinner, thanks to my lack of appetite.  We read as we drove the 20 minutes to my car, still at the middle school where I left yesterday because I was too ill to drive myself home.  We read together as the boys prepared for bed.  When we finished the book, my husband picked up the second book and began reading silently to himself and was promptly scolded by the boys and I, "NO CHEATING".   I call this obsession, "Family Reading Night".  I'm not sure how long this will last, but I know that we have two more books, and it will last at least that long.  To the boys, that will be long enough to feel, "permanent".  In their adult memories it will seem like a tradition that always was.  This is how things are measured in, "kid time".

We have "Family Movie Night" too.  It isn't a prescribed weekly event.  It is homemade Pizza, popcorn, Blankets galore, and a movie we all want to watch.  I can't really make that happen EVERY week.  I make that happen when I have a movie we all like in our Instant Que on Netflix, and the energy to make the food.  Again, they will remember this a tradition whether it happens every week, or every couple of weeks.  It happens regularly enough to be a part of our family identity, or at least to be ingrained in them as part of their family's identity, "kid time". This whole "Family Identity" thing didn't happen by accident, or over night for that matter.  It is something I began thinking about shortly after one of my students was shot in a drive by while I student teaching.  Weird?  It's true.

Staring at a spontaneously emptied desk for weeks will really mess with you.  Passing conversations you never intended to remember echo in your mind, "Mrs. G I forgot my homework at my crib." as he bounced from left to right.  "Really?  You sleep in a crib?  My son sleeps in a crib, but he's only 11 months old.  Funny, you seem way too old and far too large to be sleeping in a crib.  To each their own I guess." I smirk teasingly, and he repays me with childish, almost apologetic smile.  Yep, that got me thinking about gangs.  More specifically, about how gangs give kids what they wanted all along; a feeling of belonging.  A clear identity.  Acceptance.  I definitely wanted my kids to get as much of that from ME as possible!  I wasn't worried so much that  they'd run off and join the Crypts or the Bloods so much as I knew that when they were teens they'd start searching.  I wanted to give them a solid pad from which to launch themselves, and a compass, for the search.  It is so hard to navigate the hazards of our teenage years.  Who hasn't floundered a bit.  Those that flounder least have a decent idea of who they are when they enter into that period of life.  I wanted to give them that advantage.  Family identity, and knowing they will also be accepted for who they are are key.

Who needs a water park!

 My sons are stark contrasts to one another.  One is tall and svelte, the other also tall, but brutish in stature.  One is blonde, one Brunette.  One is a dyslexic math whiz, the other a poet that still adds on his fingers.  My Brunette sensitive to the needs of others and almost unaware of his own needs.  My Blonde, well he can tell you exactly how he feels at any given second, but has absolutely no awareness of the feelings or boundaries of others.  Yep, polar opposites.  Family is where they are loved for who they are, and where they find common ground.  I am thankful for the wise priest that told my husband I, "The greatest injustice is treat unequals equally."  In discipline, and communication they are treated according to their needs.  There is no box to fit into at our house, and yet those EVENTS are reoccurring.  I suppose that is how we see family.  

Yep, I started thinking about how I wanted to "define" our family.  Were we the crunchy kind of family?  Were we punk rock?  Were we sporty?  Where did we fit in?  We sorta fit all of those descriptions and more.  This was an evolution, correction.  This IS an evolution.  Honestly, the more our entire family grows in Christ the closer we get to a place were I worry less about manufacturing this, because it happens on it's own.  No, we haven't always exposed our kids to things that I'm proud of, and we have made some mistakes.  Heck, Cooper has almost grown up WITH us.  Everyone makes mistakes, no parent is perfect.  Besides, I don't think a label, like those above, is something I have ever been willing to live "up" too.  How confining.  No, what I think has mattered most is that we spend LOTS of time as a family, PERIOD.  What also matters is that we NEVER, and will never, impose a specific identity on our kids (i.e. "if you don't love football you don't belong" type of identity).  That's what their search is for.  Our job is to give them a compass and a place to feel safe.  That is done based on how we live, what and who we value.  We clearly, unemotionally, communicated to them what we expect of them, what we deem good choices/habits/behaviors, and who are good examples to follow.  We teach them how to chose friends that will benefit them.  We communicate this by LIVING IT.  Funny, the things I couldn't do for myself before them, I can do for myself now, because I'm doing it for them.

We have thrown aside the values of "the world"; status, possessions, and basically the lifestyle most of their peers are familiar with.  I'll be as specific as one paragraph allows.  Only one of us has worked full-time since our first child was born.  My next statement is offensive, it comes from experience this "having it all" idea is a myth.  When both parents work full time the kids suffer, except in very few circumstances where family support is incredibly great and even then I'd debate it.  There is no replacement for Mom or Dad.  I haven't yet met a kid that'd say, "I'd rather have name brand clothes than time with mom and dad".  Or, "I'd rather go to Disney land once a year than have time with my family every day".  Ask them yourself.  

We live on a Cash only basis with the exception of our mortgage (this allowed us the freedom to pick a house in a neighborhood were our kids are safe and surrounded by like minded families).  We don't take extravagant vacations.  We don't go out to eat.  We don't go to the movies, except on special occasions (and then to the budget theater or matinee).  We don't have Cable TV.  My kids get most of their clothes at Goodwill.  We didn't sign them up for sports until they were 10 and 7, and then only a non-competitive soccer league.  While we don't shelter them from alcohol (My husband and I like a beer or two every once in a while), We DO NOT allow people to drink to intoxication in front of them (this seems like a no-brainer, but it wasn't, which is a long story).  WE DO have family dinners nearly every night.  We do hike and camp near home FREQUENTLY.  We do go to Busch Gardens on our ONE annual free "military appreciation" day (Thank you Busch).  We do have fires and roast marshmallows in our backyard.  We do help people in our neighborhood that need it (see a need, fill a need).  We do have 1 tv (well that's a lie, we actually have 4 at the moment, we are storing 3 of them for friends, and can only watch one since we don't have cable).  We do monitor what we watch and listen to when they are around (also something that has evolved and become more stringent as they've gotten older).  We DO tuck them in every night and recap their day.  We DO work, play, pray, eat, laugh, cry, suffer, rejoice, and live TOGETHER.  Profound if you think about it.  You don't have to agree with our tastes to understand our methods.

We gave them life, but their lives are not ours.  We are their teachers, their mentors, the builders of their foundations.  I love them so much.  I want them to be successful BECAUSE of me, not in spite of me.  We need to be available, physically, emotionally, and cognitively in order ensure that.  It was very hard to be honest with myself about what it would take to make that desire a reality.  It is an everyday struggle to die to my own desires in order to give birth to this ONE true desire to build a solid foundation for my sons.  In essence I do give birth to them everyday, everyday until the day they take flight from me.

sweetest

My husband has been texting me on his lunch today with race propositions.  I'm not sure what they are talking about at work, but so far he has two race propositions from two different soldiers.  He is so cute.  I am lucky that he is, and always has been so supportive.  Saturday he suggested I make a three year plan.  With the goal three years from now being to train again.  Our kids would be almost 15 and almost 12, and my life would be less demanding (so we think now, right).  I guess I need to define what I mean when I say "train".  I haven't done that.

my 3 guys and the water

I love this article posted on facebook by my friend, and charge of Hudson, Pat Rizzo.  It spares no niceties in disclosing the two main facts about distance running; first, it takes years of running  A LOT (100+ miles per week) to be a world class elite, and second, there is no money in it for those of us (being me) national class runners.  The article, for me, speaks to the life I left.  Long workouts; 10 x 1 mile repeats or a 22 mile run with 16 miles just under marathon pace (at the time MP was 6:00-6:10), plus time at the Gym.  I LOVE working out like that.  Everyday I want to workout like that.  It is really time consuming and draining.  At least 2 hours a day of working out, and that's on the easier days.  Before I stopped training I had a hard time finding a gym because most of them have a 2 hour time limit for child care (Priorities awry).  Since training at that level, anything else seems silly.  All or nothing attitude that goes a little something like this, I can't eat just one M & M.  If I eat one I want to eat the entire 1 lb bag.  I don't care if makes me puke, they are simply too good.  So I'd rather just not eat that first M & M.  Running is the same way for me too.  Compulsive much?

On a TDY 

So I currently run 4 miles 4 times a week, or perhaps a 9 miler if I feel so moved and have the time.  I also make sure to give the stink eye to anyone that starts to talk about how hard they work out, to roll my eyes when his buddies talk about cross fit,  and to totally glaze over when I have to listen to these Army Divers brag about how hard core their PT is.  Because of course how I USED to work out far outshines what they do now.  Since I can't train like an elite athlete I have thrown in the towel on working out, and then roll my eyes at people that bust tail.  Sure that's totally rational.  There's no jealousy happening here, move along now.  Always working on that stinker inside of me.  She's a little thunder thief.  I ceased the involuntary one-ups-manship with them, that's a wonderful thing.  Glazing over is better right?

One of the other wives got into Cross-Fit and one day came over and started telling me what I needed to do to get better results from my workouts.  My reaction was totally inappropriate and cost us our friendship.  I stopped her mid prescription and told her something to the effect of "I don't want your help.  I was an athlete for years before you got into this fad."  She is the sensitive (in a sweet way) type, and this really hurt her feelings.  This attitude of superiority surfaced post Army.  That whole, "I'll show you attitude" just sorta went crazy, and yet I didn't have any way to make good on it without stealing time from my sons.  Perhaps my husband has a point.  Perhaps running is the best way to knock that chip off my shoulder, now that I'm fully aware of the serious imbalance I have allowed it to cause in my life, begrudgingly thanks to the Army.  My forced time away from it has allowed me to be really introspective.

Elite start Chicago Marathon 2008, Casey with
the boys, and Mama about to live the dream,
though things didn't go well that day.
 I thought I'd have many many more.
My how the tables did turn, and oh how
I have not adjusted easily.

I think his plan is a good idea.  First, because it would force me to use a great deal of self-discipline to run 40 miles a week consistently.  It would definitely humble me.  It would force me to run for enjoyment, because there would be no formal training plan.  No, 2 hard days one long day, no prescribed weekly mileage.  Just a simple, you can't EXCEED 40mpw for all of 2012.  Second, I like it because with the formality taken out of it I can focus my energy on preparing my mind and spirit to enjoy my passion humbly and without ego, like I used to.  He said, "You can't deny yourself the ability to act out a crucial part of who you are."  I might have been doing that even before I walked away.  There is absolutely nothing wrong with deconstructing yourself in order to get at the  core of what it is you need in order to know how to "act out a crucial part of who you are."  He thinks I should race at least once a year.  Jury is out on that.  He thinks racing would be a way to transfer the humility I'm learning daily onto the competitive stage.  I see where he's coming from.

I have to give myself a little credit,  I am not always so superior, nor do I see myself as a workout diva in all circles, certainly not among my running friends.  Even when I was full out training I ran lower mileage than most of peers, by 20 miles per week at least.  This superiority started when we entered the Army.  It's not an easy transition, and negatively effects each of us differently.  So no, I don't strut around town with my nose in the air.  I am genuinely pretty warm, friendly, and compassionate a majority of the time.  Given you don't accidentally stomp on the landmine of resentment (directed at no one/nothing in particular) I'm trying to defuse.

Surrendering Stinks Sometimes.

It is funny.  I was perfectly okay with this weekend.  Better than I thought I'd be actually.  The Olympic Trials were a touchstone in my surrendering the life of an elite distance runner to devote myself to motherhood.  Before and during the race I was content to live vicariously through my friends.  When it was over and I looked through the results I broke down, not because my former running/training partners did so well (placing: 2, 9, 13, 26, 33, and 74th) .  Heck no, I am incredibly proud of them!  I got upset for a completely different reason.  Well, sort of.

I have to give a little background.  Christmas of 2008 I secretly looked into the World Class Athlete Program offered by the Army.  I knew I could get paid to train, and get great benefits for the family.  If I went through Basic Training and AIT I would then be allowed to train freely at the location of my choosing.  I thought I met the requirements, which at that time were to have placed in the top 3 at a national competition within the last 2 years. When I inquired I was told I in fact did not qualify because the national competition was not an Olympic Distance (It was a 25k).  Not long after that Casey came to me with his dream of joining the Army, so I didn't pursue it further.  I wasn't going to have both parents gone at basic training and AIT.  That seemed really selfish.   They have since changed the requirements to make them more black and white.  I feel the Marathon standard is still totally within my limits if I were to train again.  Now back to the results.

I saw, in the top 25, not one but two women running for the US Army W.C.A.P.  Neither of them were better runners than myself.  They were granted entrance into the program around the same time I inquired and neither of them were within 3 minutes of any of my PR's at the time.   Because I like to torture myself I researched, and found that neither woman currently on the team made the standard before being admitted.  However, they were career soldiers FIRST, then applied (not comforting to me though due to smugness I often experience on the part of female soldiers).  At this point the faster one has  PR's in the 10k and Half Marathon that are actually a just under a minute slower than mine, but a 15k PR that is faster than mine.  We are comparable runners I suppose.  The second still isn't even close to my PR's.  So then, I wanted to know WHY NOT ME!  I felt myself burn with anger and resentment.  I stiffened involuntarily, feeling as though I'd been cheated out of what rightfully belonged to me.

I silently slumped about the house all morning.  "Annie, is there coffee?" "I dunno.  Do you still have legs?  Go look."  If Casey came downstairs I went upstairs.  If he came up I went down.  We normally talk and drink coffee all morning on Saturday and Sunday.  I wanted to punch him and those two stupid girls right in the face.  I was seriously ready to ramp up my training to show up at the Army 10 miler in a cheesy "Army Wife" T-shirt and kick their asses.  Show them whose boss.  Show them how undeserving they were.  Exactly the attitude I have worked so hard to recover from.

Of course Casey wanted to know what was wrong.  I told him.  Of course his response was insensitive, "I gave it (a promising athletic career) all up too.  I moved on."  In all fairness "giving it up" isn't the same as "losing it".  Power events (high jump) and distance events are very different in this way.  "At any moment honey, I can pick it back up and be back where I was in a year or so.  It isn't the same."  Crying hysterically at this point, which makes him totally uncomfortable because I don't do this often.  He shifts his weight every 2 seconds and keeps his arms locked to his sides in terror that I might try to cling on.  In a Hank Hill to Luanne tone he asks, "Annie, seriously, how many dead ends are you gonna hit before you get God's point?  Have you prayed?"  Okay, so while this is totally correct, it may not have been the best timing ever.  Left hook much?

I didn't hit my husband.  I didn't even yell at him, even though I really wanted to.  I knew he was right.  It wasn't meant to be.  Those women WEREN'T undeserving at all.  I was being a jerk.  I have said several times that Pride and Vanity are huge issues for me, Vengeance too I suppose.  I am doing what I have been called to do.  I don't always like it.  In fact sometimes I down right want to scream at God that he made a mistake, throw myself down arms and legs in every direction, and demand to have my way.  Luckily, within minutes some one or something enlightens me as to my assholish ways and then I find strength to admit that I am wrong.

Enjoyed this day and ran w/o an ego.  The following year I had a huge ego.  

Tonight at Mass, as I prayed, I envisioned myself running a race.  I was near the front of the pack chasing down this woman.  I was filled with the "I'm gonna show you whose boss" feeling.  I looked to the spectators and saw Jesus.  His shoulders slouched, head hanging and shaking in disappointment and sadness.  Then I envisioned myself again running a race.  This time I had no idea where I was in the pack.  I was filled with joy.  I noticed the way the light filtered through the leaves, they way their greens contrasted against a bright blue sky.  I noticed the festive colors of the finish area and Jesus behind the finish line excitedly waving me in.  His arms WIDE open waiting to wrap me up after I finished.  I actually have had both race experiences in real life, minus Jesus being there in person of course.  I realized it's the same Jesus, but different me's.  It is my choice.  I can use my talents or abuse them.  In using them they help others and myself.  "Do nothing out of selfishness or out of vainglory..." Phillipians 2:3  Until I can run with that verse in my heart I will not "train" or compete.  I would just make it all about me, and everyone around me would suffer.  Not to mention the demands of being a military wife with 2 school age children are preventative enough in their own right.  I have made the right choice.  I feel confirmed that I am following God's will for me and my family.  Though I still have days when it is hard to be at peace with it.

What? You talking to me?

Panting.  Straining.  My muscles flex and release in a heavy, uneven cadence.  "Aw man, I feel like crap.  My legs are lead, and lungs are about to burst.  I can't wait until this is over... hey someone is coming.  Look lively.  Pick it up.  Make it look effortless.  Suppress that breathing!  sound chipper now, 'hello!' Ha!  I showed him.  Dang, now I'm really dead."  This is me, enjoying a run.  HA!  Honestly, this could be a metaphor for me "enjoying" life sometimes too.

Today, while I was running I didn't do this, but I did remember a day last week when I did something similar.  I was running through William and Mary College's Campus.  I have a tendency to especially "enjoy" runs on campus, I like to think I'm "showing those college kids whose boss".  Some "college kid" starts taunting me with, "Run! Run! Run!" and fake running arms.  So I schooled him with a, "You couldn't keep up", only to look over my shoulder to see one of the members of the College's Men's track team blazing past me on the other side of the street.  I am arrogant, prideful, vain, keep the list rolling... Mostly I like to make things about me.  I'm fast.  I'm smart.  I'm tough.  I deserve this.  I don't deserve that.  That's human nature isn't it.  God frequently, like this time, shows me that he expects a little more humility from me, but I sure don't want to listen.  The effect?  I take things I should enjoy, like a run, and make them miserable for me, and those around me, while simultaneously looking like a jack ass.  At least now I not only know this about myself, but I am working to knock it off.

I wasn't all that aware of God's attempts to show me this flaw until my husband left for boot camp.  I took on EVERYTHING: remodeling a house, homeschooling my kids, running my own business, and (though barely) keeping our utilities on, the car from getting repo-ed, and the house from going into foreclosure (Army didn't pay us for 10 weeks).  I mean, I AM superwoman, duh.  I THOUGHT I was being totally selfless, but in all reality I was being prideful, and indignant.  My neighbors offered help, and I NEEDED it, but I didn't accept it.  Superwoman doesn't need help.  In fact even offering help to Superwoman is taken as an insult.

One afternoon, after a day slaving away for my family, I was about to leave for my evening of tutoring several students.  It was a cold, snowy, Michigan evening.  I started the car, belted Cooper in.  He was 9.  Then walked Will to the neighbors.  The only help I accepted was to allow them to drive him to wrestling.  I walk back to the car and Cooper is standing outside of it.  "Why aren't you in the car?"
"I forgot something, but the house was locked"  I go to open the car door, but it's locked.  The car is still running.  The house locked.  The car locked and running.  I have no money.  Great.  (so I'll just use symbols instead of letters now).

"Excuse me!  What the @#$% Cooper.  G#$D@#MIT!  I don't have any money.  I'm going to be late to make money because you didn't listen to me!  Why the F@#$ didn't you listen to me."  At this point I hear myself talking.  This isn't me.  I rarely raise my voice at my kids, and now I'm swearing at my 9 year old who has a steady stream of tears rolling down his rosy cheeks.  I don't just swear at him.  I blame him.  In excusable, he is a child!  Wow.  Stressed much Superwoman?  After a very nice sheriff's deputy unlocks my car I find the clicker in my pocket.  I could've unlocked it all along.

With great humility, and shame, I apologize to Cooper.  I show him the car remote that I found in my pocket.  I admit that what I did was absolutely wrong, and I ask him to forgive me.  He says, "Thanks Mom, and of course I forgive you.  You are just stressed out and missing dad.  I know how you feel."  He certainly did, because he, more than any of us, was pining away for his dad.  Wow.  I'm a jack ass.  It was at this moment that I realized how much my pride, and my focus on myself (he locked ME out of the car, I was going to be late etc.), wounds everyone around me.  It isn't about me.  What I have a tendency to do on runs, ruin them by making them more about me than about the run, I also do in regular every day life.  Except I'm ruining more than a run.  Since that cold day with Cooper I have used my urges to make my runs about me (proving how tough I am) as an opportunity to conquer my pride.  Sometimes I still fail.

Now when my husband is gone and I'm doing it all, all by myself, I'm not as afraid to ask for help.  I am weak, and I need it.  I CAN'T do it all myself.  When I start to get cocky God always reminds me to be humble.  My kids are quite thankful for  the change.  Now Dad's absences aren't accompanied with a Mom spread thin to screaming.  I'm glad I learned that early on.  Now I can enjoy them, because I'm not making it about me.  I see this as a HUGE blessing, because I think it's normal human nature to make everything about "us".  It takes divine intervention to realize A.) that we do it B.) how we do it C.) how it affects our relationships and finally, D.) what we need to do to fix it.  So if confessing that I swore a red streak at my 9 year old because I'm a prideful idiot helps anyone else get A,B,C, or D it's worth it!

10 ways to Pay it Forward.

Ten things we can to do to Pay it forward...

1.) If you don't have anything nice to say don't say anything at all.  In all honestly, no one cares to hear you be negative.

2.) Smile and Say "Hello" to everyone you meet today.

3.) Take the time to listen to strangers stories.  Some people desperately need to unburden themselves from their load, and you may be the only person they have to talk to, so be a good listener.  Sometimes it can really test your patience, but it is an important thing for us to do.  Taking the time to be invested in humanity is never a waste of time.

4.) When someone drops something, or many things, help them pick it up.

5.) Tell your mail carrier, newspaper boy, etc.  "Thank you"

6.) Give genuine compliments... even to family members.  I think it's sometimes easier to give strangers compliments than family.  I think this one is CRUCIAL to do with our kids.  We get so busy telling them what not to do, and what they need to do better that we forget to tell them what they do well, and what we appreciate about them.

7.) Make a gratitude list.  While this is something you do for yourself, make a list of what you have to be grateful for and everyone you encounter will benefit from your improved mood.  Not to mention that when we are focused on what WE HAVE, we aren't focused on what don't have nor do we envy what others DO HAVE.

8.) Be a friend, to everyone.  I'm not saying to bring everyone home.  I am talking about when you are outside of your house.  So often we enter into the world defensively, seeing others as our enemy, and we aren't even aware of our attitude.  Start seeing those around you as a friend, and you will be nicer to everyone.  Perhaps everyone will be nicer to you.

9.) Be GREEN.  yep, being good to the Earth is good for everyone.

10.) Be good to yourself.  If you can't love yourself, you can't love anyone else.

It takes a lot of courage to get started on any of these, because you could easily be met with grumpiness. Just remember, "we must be the change we want to see in the world" Ghandi (of course!)

Paying it forward... It's the entire point!

My socks match!  Evidence that I am making good on my promise to myself to tend to the details of daily life!  I also signed the boys up for Religious Education yesterday.  My husband and I have preferred doing this education at home.  We also have preferred going to church without becoming members.  We have done that for years.  Part of why we homeschooled our kids in Religious Education was because we had to join a Parish to enroll them, and we either were between moves, or too busy and poor to donate time, treasure or talent.  We (knowingly) were not participating in what is probably the single most important part of not just our Religion, but any one's walk towards "goodness"; doing good for others.

When our kids were young (4 and 1) and were still in Indiana we did Pre-Cana (Pre-Marriage preparation), and Cooper went to Catholic school until 1st grade.  In Colorado Casey was a Catechist (Sunday School teacher).  When we left Indiana in 2007 we basically gave up trying to donate our time.  We knew we weren't dependable, and we weren't.  We've moved 5 times since 2007.  We devoted ourselves, instead, to doing good for the boys.  We'll be here for a while so it's time to get back to it!  Doing good deeds for others is the entire point of existence, and certainly religion is supposed to help us see this and give us opportunities for it.

However, anyone can do good deeds.  One of the things we tried to teach the boys, besides bible stories, the trinity, and the sacraments, was to recognize and SEIZE opportunities to help others in everyday life.  They are both good about fearlessly approaching people in stores and parking lots if they seem to need some help.  They are also, and this is something I'm quite proud of, very good at befriending kids at school that have been ridiculed and socially exiled.

The Religious Education director didn't know any of this when I called her yesterday.  She knew only that my kid's hadn't ever been enrolled in Religious Education, and that we weren't members of any Parish.  She rightfully assumed we were fallen away Catholics.  She wanted to interview the boys before deciding whether or not to enroll them in their grade appropriate classes, or to send them to RCIA (for a batized Catholic this is like a remedial class to re-educate you).  I felt that she was making a great choice!

When I showed up with the boys, tattooed and all (by the way, I see my tattoos as being no different than iconography and frescoes on church walls, though I am well aware not everyone shares my outlook) I think she was fairly certain they'd need to go to RCIA.  She left me to fill out paper work and took the boys to interview them.  When she was done she came to me and in a pleasantly surprised voice said, "They are adorable, and chatty.  I think they can just go to their grade appropriate classes.  You have done a great job with them".  WOW!  What a huge compliment.  What great validation!  Now, on to the next phase of parenting; teaching how to execute selfless service in a more "grown up way".

Why I stopped competing/training

I need to give a bit of background and a qualifier or two. First, this is a rendering of my journey, not a universal truth that adheres to everyone. Second, I am Catholic. While even I thought this had little to do with my decision, in hindsight it is a heavy hitter in the process.

When I found out I was pregnant with Cooper I was 21, a senior in College, engaged to Casey, Captain and number 1 runner at Indiana State University. When I made the decision to keep our baby I put little thought into the Catholic Vocations. There are three of them, three paths or purposes to life; Religious Life (being a Nun, Priest, or Monk), Single Life (in which you are a missionary carrying out tasks too laborious and time consuming for a family person or Parish Priest), or Married Life. This will sound archaic, which is precisely why I put little thought into it, but if you chose Married Life as your "vocation" you are to devote yourself wholly to raising your children and to your marriage. The idea being that this is the path that will allow you to walk more closely with Christ through your sacrifices, hard work, and you will be a missionary of sorts to your children. I don't know about you, but the idea of two seperate people working to become one spirit in Christ is daunting.  That's one purpose of Marriage within the Catholic Church.  It's hard enough for two seperate people to agree a single paint color, let alone become one spirit!  Being 21 and pregnant I pretty much only thought about the fact that a.) I wouldn't fit in my wedding dress, and b.) I won't let this end my running career.

Fast Forward 8 years. It's the 2008 Chicago Marathon. I am at the elite starting line along side many World Class Runners, only 3 of whom have children at all and yet I have 2. I put in many many miles to get here. I ran until I was too tired to do anything but spend the afternoon on the couch while my sons watched T.V.. I saw Casey and the boys on the sidelines in their "Go Mom" t-shirts, and I began to wonder, is this my path? Is this really where I belong?

I flashed back to a snowy Sunday morning. I was 5 miles into a long run when one of the gym's daycare workers came rushing across the expansive gym. I was more annoyed than worried when she stopped at my machine. "Mrs. Gasway? We need you to come right away." When I got to the daycare room I saw Cooper covered in blood. Will (5) had slammed Cooper's (8) face off the concrete floor. I cleaned Cooper up, and much to the horror of the workers got right back on the treadmill.

I was unable to finish that race (Chicago). I have pretty severe asthma, and I have fall allergies. The two were working against me.  Afterwards, I went back to the Elite Suite to get my things, and my youngest son was literally climbing the walls. He was bored out of his mind. There was a stairwell in the media area. Directly underneath this stairwell was the food for the journalists. He kept sliding down the handrail, dirty shoes hanging over the food. I was MORTIFIED!   I was too tired and defeated to really do much about it.

After Chicago, I took some time to myself to think about how I was purposing my life. I knew that my sons needed more of me than they were gettting. I also knew that I needed running to keep sane. I took it easy that winter and ran the 25k River BAnk Run in May. I had another asthma attack. This one was much worse. I finished the race, but had to deny ambulance transport. It was Mother's Day. My kids weren't with me, they were at home, 4 hours away. This was pretty much "it" for me.

I went home to a husband that scolded me, but was empathetic, and two fabulous kids that were happy to have me back regardless of my performance. I realized that my kids loved me unconditionally at the moment, but it was temporary.  My finances were a mess, my children were longing for me, and my husband felt powerless in his life.  I saw bits of this lifescape at this point, but not all of it, and I knew I was at the core of the positive change my family needed.  I am the mother.  I am the center.  Whatever direction I spin in my family follows like a pinwheel.

A lot of change occured in my life at this point, including Casey's decision to join the Army. I took some time to myself and read a book a running friend of mine had sent to me "Called to be Holy".  It was at this point that I began to make a conscience decision to chose time with my kids over time at the track.  It was also during this period that I began to realize that my youngest son wasn't yet learning to read and he was half way through 1st grade.  I began to spend a lot of time researching dyslexia, and learning how to tutor children with dyslexia so as to reconstruct their synapses.  I was advocating on his behalf at school, and eventually pulled him out to homeschool him so that I could teach him to read.

This brings us to January 2010.  Over the next 2 years I spend a majority of my time and energy raising my sons.  Not in a June Cleaver sense.  I began to understand the idea behind the "vocations".  My job was to raise my sons to be whole, happy people that know and UNDERSTAND the LOVE of God, and how to love LIKE God.  This meant, more than anything, I needed to be an example of how to serve God.  This also meant that I needed to be tuned into their needs, which of course I couldn't do if I was only tuned in to my own needs.

Easter 2010 I did a TON of meditation.  I realized that my MOTIVATION to compete was driven by my own vanity.  I wanted recognition.  I was putting my "vocation" on the shelf to feed my own vanity.  To "run for God", would be the vocation of a single person.  This line of reasoning was reinforced with the fact that most of my peers were single.  The time and focus required only took me away from my family, and forced me to focus most of my energy on being in tune with my own needs, which I realized was counter productive.  It was at this point that I decided I would run for my mental and physical health ONLY.  I would no longer train to feed my vanity. 

I know I am a flawed person.  I can be an out-right asshole sometimes.  Grace means that God loves me anyway.  He loves me not as a warm fuzzy feeling in his chest, but loves me as a verb.  He will meet my NEEDS (not desires) even though I don't deserve it.  He will forgive me even though I am not worthy.  He will ALWAYS listen, though not always answer.  God is always in tune with me, even if I'm not always tuned in to God.  This is the love I want to embody for my children.  I realize that I cannot embody this type of love if all of my energy is focused on me doing my own thing.  It takes a lot of energy, focus, and yes, selfishness to pursue huge success in any field.  I needed to shift that focus from my running to my family.  If I were to continue on the path I was on in 2008 I would have taught my children annoyance, impatience, and how to be self-serving.

I have come to understand that the Single and Religious lives wouldn't have pushed me closer to God.  I am naturally a selfish person.  I love time alone to reflect and meditate.  Being on my own is my comfort zone.  Cooper was no accident.  Meeting Casey was no accident.  God knew what I'd need to learn to love like him, and he gave it to me.  It took me a while to surrender to my situation and understand it.  Since I have devoted myself as a servant in my role as a Parent and Spouse my life has become my refuge.  My finances are straight, my Marriage is as strong as ever, my children feel whole and happy.  My children know humility, and love with grace.  They are seeking their purpose, and I am their torch bearer.  That is a better reward than any finish line.

I may again run in races, but I will not be competing in the same sense as I once did.

reflections

I can see clearly the path behind me, it's jagged turns and steep grades. The landscape it hacks through has been assimilated into myself, it is me, and I ran my way through it as I have every other stretch of rugged terrain that I have been required to navigate. Funny, the flat expanses of my life do not inspire me, they do not beg to be conquered. They are easy, and bland. I do not enjoy them. I do not adopt them as pieces of myself as maybe I should.

My husband is more than the cliche' of best friend. He truly is me, and I am him. When he is in pain, I am in pain. When I suffer, he suffers. Both our children seem to be acutely aware of the unique bond we have. When a swan was mourning over it's injured partner on the side of the road near our house, and refused to leave until days after it's partners death, in spite of being in immanent danger itself, my oldest son said, "Mom, Those swans are just like you and Dad!". Which is why when I was having success in the world of running, and Casey seemed, to the outside world, to be distant and reserved I was not hurt or offended. I could feel his private pain and suffering. I knew my success only made it more acute for him. He was mourning the end of his own athletic career, and was desperate for a new outlet.

When he suggested joining the Army, as if it were a joke (He was 33 and only one year from not being accepted any longer), I knew he was serious. I knew, because of who he was, that he would take it to the extreme, push himself to see what he could accomplish. We both love our challenges. The difference? I have a healthy fear of danger, Casey does not. I was worried, and rightfully so, the man is not just an adrenaline junkie and a work horse, but obsessed with succeeding at everything. He has never failed at anything. I also could feel how acutely he needed this, and I knew I must be supportive.

Over the next several months we talked to friends, did our research and when he decided not to in as an Officer, I urged him to go into Intelligence. It was safer. I should not have been surprised when he came home from Processing (where they finalize your enrollement) and said, "I'm going to be a Frogman! It's a Special Ops thing. I am going to be an Army Diver!" but I was. Now they had him, grrr. I pushed it out of my mind decided denial was the best route, and focused on preparing myself for his upcoming absence. There is no such thing as adequate preparation.

He left Dec. 28th. Dec. 27th my brother, a Harvard Law student, and I had a heated debate about the U.S. Military involvement in Iraq and Afghanistan after watching the movie Avatar (which I did not like). Needless to say there were a few illusions I needed to cling too to make through the next few days, and it was just not a good time to venture into liberal waters concering the US military. My poor husband, who is much more grounded than either my brother or myself calmed me down privately, "Annie, it doesn't matter. Patriotism is senseless, soldiers are the pawns of politicians. I am doing this for us, for me, and because I feel a sense of duty to earn my citizenship."

So, if I was at mile 5 before, I'm now at like mile 16... where you think "oh shit, this is starting to hurt, and I have 10 more miles! I'm not sure if I can make it." I'm trying to battle those thoughts. The last 5 weeks I have gotten up every morning -alone- to be greeted by a stack of bills I can't pay, and two little boys that need to be educated, loved, and made to feel safe and secure. I've done a damn good job, and those bills are getting paid on Monday!!!!!

For over a month I rallied myself up, sallied forth with my "widow list" I made piles of clean clothes in my bed room, drank out of the milk carton, rented the movies I wanted, read a book, started doing yoga, and blogged more. I've even begun to eat the perfectly balanced diet. I cut out sugars and gluten, and replaced them with fruit and rice. I've done everything I've always wanted to do. Then I started hanging up all of my clothes after I took them off, drinking milk out of a glass, and stopped blogging. To be honest it's gotten really old.

Now, I need a new list. I've done everything on the old one. Unfortunately, and quickly, my brain has compiled this list: I want to smell his BO, I want to leave the toilet paper roll just out of his reach, and hear him say, "damnit Annie". I want to be annoyed by finding a random toenail he forgot to pick up. I want to bitch about wiskers in the sink. I want some one else to discipline the kids, pick out the movie, do the dishes. I want a hug from him. I want to fight with him for leg space on the couch, blankets in bed. I want to hear his voice, it's been a solid two weeks. I feel guilty and thankless when this list invites itself into my head, but that doesn't make me want him less. I can't stand pictures of him today.

My comfort comes from bits of information I glean from his letters, in 5 weeks he's aquired a leadership role, Company Squad leader, and his squad is #1. He's a hoss. I smile when I think of the contortion of his face as he strains to win the challenges he faces... "Affix bayonettes, Company Charge!" I see him leading the way (he won) and I get a moment of relief. I imagine him, chest out, leading the A group on their runs, and I fill with pride. I am so incredibly happy for him. I think about what it says that he's written me at least 3 times a week, and feel incredibly INCREDIBLY signifigant. I try not to think about the distance I feel in what he isn't saying, but I do and it eats at me (I'm not sure how to translate this into a universal language). In every letter he DOES make a point to let me know how he feels about me. That is pretty awesome.

So much like the race, I've got to take it one step at a time... one moment at a time and try not to think too much. I've got to just let it happen. I most definitely need to screen my crowd of spectators. My stride will not easily bounce back from a Cornelius Horan or Jock Semple right now, and I've got to keep on trudgin forward.

The babies

While the letters have helped me, I anticipate the day that I receive a phone call from him so much that every ring of the phone springs my spine to attention! The letter's have not had the same effect on all of us.

Cooper has broken down, sobbing over the last few days. He see's his dad's face in roadside snow. In the drips on the wind sheild. He is seeing his father's "ghost". Last night he wrote this in his journal.






This morning he could barely finish his work during our school time. I've tried to be an example of how to handle this severing in a healthy manner. "We will not feel sorry for ourselves for any length of time". We have to get up and get on, and deal with our feelings in ways we can control. He was mourning the fact that his dad wasn't here to build him a tunnel in the snow banks, like every other big snow winter.

I bundled Cooper and Willem up in their snow clothes and sent them out to play. Not five minutes later Cooper comes in crying. He is heart sick. Little brother follows close behind, "Coopah, I am biwding a tunnoh foh you. Tum out heoh and hep me wiff it." A few slow gasps and, "Okay, fine."

Those two boys spent 2 hours in the Michigan cold building themselves a tunnel. An homage to a far away father, and to their strength. They were so proud of themselves, pouring prideful "big fish" stories into their hot cocoa afterward. THAT is what their dad's wants of them, pro-activeness. It is what I want of them.

The letter's I have received have validated my belief that the sacrifice my family is making is WORTH IT! Some days feel as though my sorrow will leave in a puddle on the floor, and I regret that I ever agreed to this, that I ever urged him on. His letters make it all worth it, "It's hard telling how much our long arguments and late hour conversations are helping these GI's". We ARE still the team we have always been.

There are reminders of him everywhere. I know that if we are to remain the unit we were when he left the boys and I must continue to honor the value system that has been built by the both of us. This is hard to do if you are feeling sorry for yourself, if you are bemoaning your loss. Most days I feel like sitting on my sad ass doing nothing, but that is not the value system that my husband and I have based our marriage or parenting style on. If we are to remain the family we have always been I HAVE to take care of me first. Get up, get in that workout and show those boys that doing what you feel like doing is usually NOT the route that will lead to fulfillment or happiness. So, as I have for 10 years I will take care of my responsibilities, myself and my sons with an insane work ethic and a tender heart. Even I'd rather eat myself into a coma. I have obviously instilled it in at least one of them already. Thank you Willie, for keeping it real!

Mail Call

I received a Shut-Off notice in the mail yesterday, not to mention that yesterday marked the official 30 days past due on our mortgage, and was reminded as to the precipitous conditions of Casey's departure. It took the threat of financial doom to liberate him from the belief that to join the Army was to compromise his intellect. He could've "saved us" by going back to Chicago with his company and continuing to work in Corporate sales, but instead WE decided to put finances on hold so that he could get back in shape, after all he had been sitting behind a desk for 3 years, to best serve his country. Once a National Champion Track Athlete, I worried as to how the Army would utilize his talents, I didn't want him to get hurt. The decision, though stress inducing was a great one because he was recruited into the Dive Program, "the most physically demanding school in the Army". Neither of us even knew the Army had Divers until he was assigned the MOS. He wanted to join the Army in high school and was reprimanded by family. His recruiting letter from West Point went into a shoe box, only to be discovered by him 15 years later.


He simply seized the opportunity to fulfill a calling he had felt for a long time. He wanted to do this 15 years ago, but came to be ashamed of his desire and locked it away until the moment that he could vindicate his decision (to his own family and friends) with the excuse of economic hardship. What does this say about us, that civic servitude/pride and intellectualism have been polarized?

To be honest I am a bit jealous of him. That he has been able to finally realize his desire despite the criticism and opposition. I feel a bit left behind to man this island and care for it's inhabitants. I do NOT want to be mistaken for a mousey housewife holding down the fort in the absence of it's real protector. I am the one that makes the servitude a possible.

Bless-ed

Frost gathered in each corner of the window's 6 square frames. She was in the basement, baby in a carrier on her back, gathering water in a bucket from the main. He had taken out all the piping. It was black, corroded, and unfit for drinking water. They didn't have the money to replace it quite yet. He was working 10 hours a day, 6 days a week in the factory 30 minutes away for 200 dollars a week. They were saving what they could. Until then, it was just going to be this way. She quietly hummed as she carried the bucket upstairs and heated it on the stove. Once it was warm enough she took the water, and dumped it in the bath tub. 5 more trips and she'd have enough for baths. The baby was fairly content just to be against it's mother. Her toddler played quietly in his room.

The babies bathed in the clean water. Warm water. He and She took turns being last. When baths were done it took another bucket to boil water for their dinner. Oatmeal. The babies got milk. Yet, there was laughter. Lots of laughter. After dinner, she'd sing those babies to sleep "The water is wide. I cannot get or' And neither have I wings to fly. Build me a boat that can carry four, and all shall row my loves and I"

Eventually, she'd finally get the call she had hoped for and start working. Then, it would only be a matter of weeks and they'd have water again. For a time after that, running water was a marvel to them, a quirk most of their family wouldn't understand.

Winter 2003-2004


Ya know, Casey and I have been through hell and back. In 10 years, we've had two kids, finished college, moved 8 times in 4 states, and that's the good stuff. When our kids were 3 and 10 months they were living on raman noodles, plain oatmeal and milk. We've had to do that two more times since then, and even lived in a motel. There have been multiple times when, if chance hadn't provided hand-me-downs the boys little toes would've been curled up and blistered in the ends of their shoes, and they would've been wearing sweatshirts and sweaters as coats for winter. We've had times of prosperity too. Yet, I wouldn't trade "those" times for anything. Seriously, I told Casey just before we were married that I wanted my kids to grow up poor so they'd learn to appreciate the little things. I am glad they have gotten that opportunity. Everything seemed to workout in the end. Recently, when I asked the boys what one of our family traditions were they responded, "love. We always have lots of love in this house." However, Casey, the over achiever that he is, couldn't take another year of these ups and downs. He joined the Army.



At first I was TERRIFIED. Then I realized, "damn, this is a perfect fit for him". Mr. overachiever just got used up and spit up in the corporate world. Now his talents will be utilized, and his work ethic rewarded. Our hardships were, to him, a neon necklace with an arrow pointing at his head that said, "douche bag". It's not going to be easy, but that's sort of been a theme in this family. I think we'll be just fine.

People have asked me, "how are the boys going to handle it?" Sure they'll miss him, cry for him, and probably act out a bit. However, we've been apart from him before, and they've weathered far more arduous circumstances (by a child's yard stick) with tenacious optimism:



She stands outside the school. Crisp air cuts up her coat sleeve. No one talks to her, but they all stare. She shuffles her weight so one knee can bend itself in a gesture of cosmetic confidence. Secretly, she wishes she had mirror to check and see if a little snot snuck down onto her numb upper lip. She runs her mitten under her nose just to be safe. FINALLY! She sees a pair of smiling blue glasses with little blue hat, an unruly strand of blonde hair sneaks out the bottom. "I dot dis foh you, Mommy", a crumpled paper by way of a hug. Now, to collect the brown hatted observer for the walk home. She does so and gladly walks away from the crowd.

"So are you guys excited to get a house?"
"Wioh we get to have Cwistmas pwesents?"
"You get a house, and if we can move in before Christmas you will get to have a tree too."
"So, mom, is Santa going to visit or not?"
"I'm sure he'll bring you something"
"I's wanted one of dose big noeff guns"
"I think Santa was planning on bringing small things for your new room"
"We get to have our own rooms?! Well Okay!!"
"So we won't have to be all in one room anymore?! Can I have a dragon room?"

So the three of them chattered themselves back to the motel room they shared with Him. The paneling smelled of someone's cigarette smoke, a reminder that this was not theirs (thankfully). She made them a dinner of microwaved raman noodles and hot dogs, then homework, bath and bed, all four of them together.

Friday December 23rd at 1pm the 4 of them unlocked their new home. A container in which to treasure their laughter. Each of their exclamations was trailed by a little puff of smoke. She hurriedly, harassed the gas company and Stanley Steamer so that her babies would be warm and safe before bed. Otherwise, it would be a long cold weekend with painful reminders of the previous owners cats Once all was quite she set up a small 2 ft tree, wrapped the paint brushes, a few small toys. She paused to absorb the enormity of this small tree that dared to occupy such a large empty room all by itself. Fitting. Then She crawled up next to her family on the floor. This might end up being her favorite Christmas yet.

That Christmas she felt like an alchemist.