Excess baggage.,,

http://melissafaithbodin.wordpress.com/2013/06/07/excess-baggage/

http://melissafaithbodin.wordpress.com/2013/05/21/beautiful-people/#more-584

Lean into it. . .

http://melissafaithbodin.wordpress.com/2013/03/29/lean-into-it-2/

Letting go of sadness. . .

http://melissafaithbodin.wordpress.com/2013/03/02/letting-go-of-sadness/

Check out my latest blog post! Thanks for stopping by!

Perspective changes everything. . .

My blog has moved!

http://melissafaithbodin.wordpress.com/2013/02/24/perspective-changes-everything/

Are you too busy?

I read the following words this morning. They are taken from the book Sabbath by Wayne Muller. I am only a few pages into the book and I am completely and totally in love with it.

“I am so busy.

We say this to one another with no small degree of price, as if our exhaustion were a trophy, our ability to withstand stress a mark of real character. the busier we are, the more important we seem to ourselves and, we imagine, to others.

To be unavailable to our friends and family, to be unable to find time for the sunset (or even to know that the sun has set at all), to whiz through our obligations without time for a single, mindful breath, this has become the model of a successful life.

Our lack of rest and reflection is not just a personal affliction.

It colors the way we build and sustain community.”

Is this you?

I am ashamed to admit that, at one time (not all that long ago I might add) , this was me. (Side note: If you have children, it’s hard to escape BUSY. I’ve been there, done that, and am still doing that. I get it.)

I once thought the busier I was, the better. It kept me from being in my own head (which can be a scary place) and made me feel like I was on the road to somewhere. Where? I have NO idea.

Then, when tragedy struck last August,  I was forced to stop and look at my life. When I stopped — when I came to the realization that life is SO much more than being busy–a funny thing happened. Once I stopped running and began to appreciate the silence and tranquility that comes with being available to myself and to others--my life began to change. Being intentional about life–by eliminating the distraction of being busy–has allowed me to stop and take some very mindful breaths.

Now? I pull over to take pictures of the sunrise, I drop what I’m doing to chat with my nephew, I try to carve out time in my day for meaningful conversations with people that I love, and I have begun to figure out how to fit into my life the things that bring joy and meaning to my soul.

Trust me, it’s not been easy. I work on it every single day. And, quite frankly, there are days that I’d rather just be too busy to think. It’s so much easier to numb out and putter along in life than it is to deal with it some days.  Besides, there’s always something to be done, right?  ALWAYS!  But, I challenge you to stop and ask yourself,  how important are those things?

Stop and ask yourself that the next time you are too busy to breath.  

All of this and I’m only on page two. . .

Did I mention that I am in love with this book?

Grief reveals you. . .

The deeper the pain creeps into my broken soul,  
the more my soul is freed. . .

I've heard it said, time and time again, that grief reveals you. . .

The first time I heard this after the crash, I shuddered, literally.

What would be revealed of me? 

Not really having the mental capacity at the time to worry about it, I decided I'd deal with whatever was revealed of me at the time of revelation, no matter how deep and dark it was.

Since then, I have secretly wondered.

And waited. . .

Finally--I listened. 

I listened to the quiet revelations of my aching soul.

And I discovered,

that the deeper the pain crept into my broken soul, the more my soul was freed. . . 

to love more deeply and with abandoned,

to appreciate silence,

to crave authenticity,

to celebrate every gift,

to let joy in,

to hope,

and to experience compassion,

like never before.

Despite my brokenness, despite my heavy heart--grief has revealed my soul.

Ironic, isn't it?

"That suffering nourishes grace, and pain and joy are arteries of the same heart--

and mourning and dancing are but movements in His unfinished symphony of beauty." 

~Ann Voskamp, One Thousand Gifts

Facing Fears and Finding Me: Part Four- One year later!

"My ultimate goal is to be a marathon running, mountain climbing, vegan but if I woke up tomorrow and decided to do all three, I would fail miserably. I first need to be able to run a mile, climb the stairs without getting winded, and make it a week without meat before I can take another step forward."

I wrote those words last March, a little over a month after I stepped foot on the scale for the first time in about a decade. I wrote again in May after losing 25 pounds and had planned to keep updating on a regular basis, but, since August, other writing has taken priority for me. . .

Even though I had temporarily abandoned blogging about my health and fitness journey, I never abandoned my quest to find me. One year later I am down 56 pounds and feel pretty awesome. I want to share with you--hopefully to inspire you if you are looking to make some positive changes for yourself. No matter where you are in your own health and fitness journey, know that every change you make, no matter how small, is a step in the right direction.

My progress, by design, has been slow and steady. Everything I wrote in Part Two about losing weight? I still stand by it 1000%. Be accountable, get educated, have patience, exercise, find encouragement and support, and most importantly, go easy on yourself! As a person, you are NOT, I repeat, NOT defined by the number on the scale. True change is incredibly hard and takes loads of perseverance. Change is never easy and really scary sometimes, but healthy changes are always worth it. Be courageous in your efforts and you will be rewarded with better health, I promise.

Even though I was grossly overweight when I began, I knew that I would have to continually set fitness goals to keep my motivation up. I did this by signing up for different events with family and friends. The rewards when competing with this way are immeasurable. Finishing a race with your loved ones cheering you on is a beautiful feeling and I couldn't have made it this far without such amazing support. I am so very thankful for the help and support that I continually receive.

In case you are waiting until you are smaller, faster, in better shape, etc. etc. etc. before you commit to a fitness event or weight loss program, there really isn't a good enough excuse. (Did you see the double-amputee Olympic runner last summer? Or the 90-year old marathoner?) You can do it. And in case you are doubting what you can accomplish right now, here's my list from the past year. If I can do this, anyone can.

In March, for the first time in years, I jogged a mile without stopping. At the time, I was at least 225 pounds. Yes, it was ugly, very ugly, but I did it. (Incidentally there was a nurse walking on the treadmill next to me. I knew if I went down, I'd have help!) It was a fantastic day.

In May, at about 215 pounds, I completed the Tough Mudder, a 12-mile long obstacle course. It was raining and about 50 degrees that day but we all finished. We were too cold to drink our free beer at the end but it was incredible anyways. I went home bruised and battered but the sense of accomplishment was so very worth it.

12 miles in the mud and cold! 

In June, I ran the Foot Lake 4. For the first time ever, I ran a race the entire way. People that walked half the race finished before me and I didn't care. I made it. As a bonus, my oldest and my brother ran too. (For the record, Uncle Mike kicked Page's butt and placed in his age group. We ate pancakes afterwards and it was awesome.)

At about 206, I completed my first running race without stopping or walking. If you think
you are too big to run or complete a race, STOP THINKING THAT RIGHT NOW!
You can do anything you put your mind to, no matter how much you weigh.
 Don't ever forget that!

In August, at 197 pounds, I completed my first triathlon. I survived the swim, passed several people on the bike, and then got passed by all of them on the run. It didn't matter though, I completed the race under the goal time I had set for myself. The feeling when I crossed the finish line? Indescribable.

After the bike, before the run.

Then in November, a crazy thing happened! My dad, who has never really ran before, joined the fun. I've ran two races with him so far and to say that it has been completely awesome would be an understatement. . .

After completing the Frozen 5k last weekend with my dad and Page. 

In another 25 pounds or so, I will have reached my goal weight. I don't have a magic number in mind but I'm guessing I'll know when the time is right to transition from weight loss to maintenance. To celebrate, I will be climbing a mountain and running a marathon this summer. Long's Peak in Colorado will be my mountain and the Superior Trail Marathon will be my race. As far as becoming a vegan? Despite some valiant efforts, I have no immediate plans to give up an occasional burger or juicy steak, but, I'm working on it. Well, sort of!

P.S. I have only one regret on this journey so far. I didn't tell my parents the day I completed the tri. They knew I was training but when the day came, it was cool and rainy. I knew I'd probably be out a couple of hours (if I made it at all) and I didn't want them to feel obligated to stand out there in the rain waiting for me (I made my kids though!). They both let me know afterwards that they were disappointed with me for not informing them and I distinctly remember telling my mom that she could be there next year when she wouldn't have to wait around for so long for me to finish. A couple of days later we talked about my weight loss and she told me how extremely proud she was of me. She said she would have to "get on the stick" and lose some weight too. That was one of my last conversations with her. . . 

Here's the story about Oscar Pistorius, the double-amputee Olympian!

http://abcnews.go.com/Sports/oscar-pistorius-makes-history-double-amputee-sprinter-compete/story?id=16929845

Here's a story about a 90 year-old marathon runner!

http://www.lifenuts.org/1/post/2012/12/being-healthy-at-90-a-guest-blog-from-90-year-old-mike-fremont.html

Facing Fears and Find Me Parts 1-3!

Part one: http://prairiegirlsguide.blogspot.com/2012/01/t-e-r-r-i-f-i-e-d.html

Part two: http://prairiegirlsguide.blogspot.com/2012/03/facing-fears-and-finding-me-part-two.html
Part three: http://prairiegirlsguide.blogspot.com/2012/05/facing-fears-and-finding-me-part-3.html

You aren't going crazy, it's grief!

Yep, that's me. And, yep, I feel the way that I look!

"Little things we used to do without thinking, like mailing a letter, can easily become an all day task. Getting a gallon of milk can seem monumental. The thought of getting dressed, driving a car, getting money, paying a cashier, carrying the gallon, 
driving home-just these thoughts alone, can leave a griever hungry for sleep." (http://www.funeralplan.com/griefsupport/griefsteps.html)

It was September, not quite a month after the crash, when I decided to return to my work in a full-time capacity. I knew it wasn't going to be easy but I am blessed with a very flexible schedule (if needed) and as a bonus I work with one of my best friends-- I really had no good excuse not to attempt a return to some semblance of normalcy in my life. 

The three weeks prior had been the most incredibly difficult weeks of our family's existence. I think I can speak for most everyone when I say that we were exhausted--physically, spiritually, and emotionally-- by the catastrophic loss we had suffered. I knew at the time that we had an extremely long and difficult road ahead of us.   

Honestly, I don't know what I was expecting but I do know that I definitely wasn't prepared for exactly how difficult things would be. Grief is completely and utterly EXHAUSTING! And even though I knew that the emotional healing would be strenuous, what has surprised me the most on this healing journey is the sheer physical toll that grief takes on a person. In short, grief often makes you feel like you are literally going C-R-A-Z-Y. 

CRAZY!     CRAZY!     CRAZY!     CRAZY!

I distinctly remember two mornings when I was first returning to work. Both days started out relatively normal but when the time came for me to get dressed, all (excuse my language) hell broke loose. Both mornings I stood in my closet and S-O-B-B-E-D because I could not, I repeat, COULD NOT, figure out what to wear. In fact, one morning, I screamed "F*** it"as loud as I could, to myself, and went back to bed-- for the rest of the morning. 

Then there was the morning not all that long ago when I burnt three separate sets of toast. Yes, three times I burnt my toast. (My co-workers, thankfully, finally stepped in and made sure I got breakfast.) Or there was the time, just a few days ago, that I blew by one exit while driving down the road and a few minutes later took a wrong one-- on roads and exits that I have driven on too many times to count. Unfortunately, I have several other stories I could share. . . but I think you get the gist.

Besides my current lack of mental prowess, I can count on one hand the actual restful nights of sleep that I have had in the last few months, the circles under my eyes are now permanent and not-so-beautiful shades of grey and black, my patience is shorter than normal, I've been clenching my teeth, noise irritates me, and some days my compassion and tolerance levels run pretty low. Did I mention that grief is EXHAUSTING?

At times, I get easily frustrated with my decreased mental capacity, other times all I can do is laugh. Along the way, I have learned how to adapt. For instance, to make getting dressed possible, I got rid of a mountain of clothes in my closet and I wear the same jewelry every day. The simplicity has helped tremendously. I have recently started making lists to help me get through the day and I know now that if I want breakfast, I need to give the toaster my full attention. I also have learned that exercise is the only thing that gets rid of my newly acquired anxiety. I know that this altered mental state is not permanent but, nonetheless, it's difficult some days.

After the closet incidents, I began to really research the effects of grief and mourning . I needed to confirm that what I was experiencing was normal and that I wasn't slowly going insane. I also wanted to have some inkling of what to expect next. I then started talking with others that had recently suffered loss and discovered that they too were experiencing similar difficulties. These talks and my research helped confirm that the craziness was normal, that I wasn't totally losing it, and that I wasn't alone. 

If you are in the midst of grieving and are feeling kind of crazy, I highly recommend that you seek help now. There are several great pamphlets, books, and websites out there to get you started. If reading isn't your cup of tea or you don't think self-help will cut it, find someone to talk to. There are clergy, grief counselors, and others who have experienced loss right in your community, no matter where you live. 

Please don't ever be afraid to reach out--no matter where you are on your healing journey-- to someone, somewhere.The healing journey is a difficult one. Even though we all need to find our own way, there is no reason we can't help to ease each other's pain now and then. Never underestimate the power of finding out that you are not alone. 

I know that sometime in the future, these physical symptoms will pass and things will slowly get better. Until then, if you see me and I seem a little off, it's because I am. And, it's okay. I'm not going crazy, it's grief!

P.S. Here's a list of common grief symptoms..

• Lack of energy
• Withdrawal
• Sleeplessness or sleeping too much
• Loss of appetite or eating too much
• Inability to concentrate
• Forgetfulness
• Physical aches and pains
• Confusion
• Numbness
• Racing heart
• Shortness of breath
• Panic and anxiety
• Reduced immune system
• Exhaustion (http://www.cromartiemillerandlee.com/resources/articles_grief/recognize_effects.html)

(Please note that this list is by no means comprehensive. Also, it is important to note that these symptoms can be indicative of other health-related problems not related to your grief, so listen to your body. If something doesn't seem right, it probably isn't. It is always better to check with your doctor then to dismiss a potentially serious health problem off as a symptom of grief.)

Through a child's eyes. . .

On Christmas Day, I gave my nephew brief instructions on how to use my camera.

And then I watched him work the room as he snapped photo after photo of--

our dog,

of family with smiling faces,

and of the tree.

And I couldn't help but wonder. . .

How different our world would be if we never lost the ability to see life through a child's eyes.

What if. . .

Every decision we made was with our hearts first and not our minds?

What if. . .

We could actually share our feelings, whatever they may be, whenever we were feeling them?

What if. . .

We soaked up knowledge and new things like a sponge, always keeping an open mind and listening without prejudice?

What if. . .

We took time to enjoy and fully engage in each activity that our everyday life requires?

Bacon glasses as an adult? Maybe not. But, what about actually sitting down
to eat breakfast instead of  just grabbing a cup of coffee to go?

How different would our world be? 

Unfortunately though,

Being an adult. . .

Requires us to sometimes make tough choices where matters of the mind, sometimes for very good reasons, must come first--even if it breaks our hearts.

Being an adult. . .

Means that we don't throw ourselves on the floor in kicking and screaming tantrums; but, it also means that we often refrain from offering up a hug, holding someone's hand, or saying "I love you."

Being an adult. . .

Means that we often think we know it all and don't often take the time to learn something new or try to understand another's point of view, simply because it doesn't agree with our own.

Being an adult. . .

Often means that we rush through our days--busy with responsibilities and always looking ahead to what is next-- instead of living in the present.

But, 

What if. . .

We sometimes just listened to our hearts and trusted that following it may actually be the best decision for us?

What if. . .

We learned to respectfully share with each other when we are feeling hurt, angry, scared, or alone. What if we learned to give and accept hugs, hold each other's hands, or say "I love you?"

What if. . .

We took the time to learn something new about someone, some place, or something? What if we learned to listen to each other without judgement?

What if. . .

We actually fully lived in the present? What if we took the time to enjoy our breakfasts, our jobs, our relationships, our lives?

What if?

I can't help but think the world would 

be a completely different place.

Merry Christmas

The latest ornament additions to our Christmas tree, made with love by Dawn and her parents.

What follows is an editorial I wrote last year at about this time. My community had been suffering following the deaths of several people that had died too soon. I thought maybe my words would help ease one person's pain, even if it was only for a minute. I copied it to my blog at the time. . .

*****

For everyone that is feeling the excruciating pain that the loss of a loved one brings this Christmas, please know that you are not alone- not to rejoice because others are hurting, but to take comfort in the fact that others understand your pain and grief.

It was just over a decade ago that my grandpa died on Christmas Eve. Not that he really had any control over his time of death, but, I believe in my heart that he knew Christmas Eve was the only time the entire family would be together. We all got to be with him that night as he slowly faded. He couldn’t have chosen a more perfect time to die- surrounded by the ones that loved the him most. He wouldn’t have had it any other way. And while the memories are still painful, they are peaceful as well. We all still miss him immensely.

I came across the following words last night in book called The In-Between by 

Erica Staab. It’s an incredible and powerful short little book about the journey we take when we are in the process of healing from the depths of the pain and grief 

that only the loss of a loved one brings.

"When I listen closely I can hear your heart breaking, I don’t have to know what caused you such pain, what tears at the fabric of your heart. I can feel how deep your loss is, I can see the tears held behind your eyes. I can hear the catch in your voice when you say “I’m fine.”

Although all of our journeys look different-

often they begin in the same place-

that of torn faith, of a shattered heart,

of a moment in time where the world stopped

and where life seemed to stand still..." 

For everyone reeling from the pain of a lost loved one this Christmas, take comfort in the love that family and friends bring. Know that at sometime in the future, you will be okay. Take comfort in the fact that you are never alone.

Peace and love to everyone this season and Merry Christmas. 

Wrap yourselves in the arms of your loved ones and rejoice.

*****

At the time I wrote this I was thinking particularly of my good friends that had lost their infant son a few months before as well as two other friends that had just lost their husbands to cancer. Besides those deaths, my daughter's best childhood friend had just lost her mom when she was hit by a drunk driver and a another good friend of my kids was killed in a hunting accident. There had also been a host of others in the community that had passed. My heart was so incredibly heavy at the time. Little did I know that a short eight months later it would be our family and friends that would be the ones reeling from the agonizing pain and grief of sudden death. Little did I know that we would be the ones with shattered hearts struggling to face our first Christmas with a gaping hole in our family. And, yet, we are not alone. 

Sadly, since my mom, sister-in-law, and niece were killed in August, my dear friend Julie (whose mom is also a dear friend of mine) was killed in a car accident and another dear friend lost her first grandchild. And still there have been others. More families that are reeling from the pain of death. More families that are attempting to move forward with shattered hearts. . .

Although the next couple of days will be extremely difficult for us, we'll somehow manage. We'll tell stories, eat too much, and laugh until our sides ache--despite the fact that our hearts are broken. We will go on.  

We will go on with hope for brighter days, with love for one another, and with joy (and sorrow) in our hearts. Even though it's so difficult right now to look ahead to the next chapter, our family's story has so much more to be written. 

Make you have a blessed, joyous, and peaceful holiday season. Take comfort in the love that family and friends bring. Take comfort in the fact that you are never alone. Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas. With love. . . 

The perfect tree. . .

Christmas Tree 2012- A tree filled with love and memories.

In case anyone was following my mini Facebook saga last weekend- I am happy and relieved to report that my missing Christmas ornaments were found, safe and sound, tucked away in the dark abyss between our garage and house. Over the course of the weekend I had looked through every nook and cranny, high and low, in search of the ornaments. Finally, thanks to a tip from my youngest, I found the missing treasures. During the adventure I discovered that apparently we never got rid of any of the kids' old toys (the attic is jam packed with them) and I found the blue Mason jars I had been looking for (they were tucked neatly on a shelf in plain sight, go figure). I even took a few trips down memory lane as old trinkets that I had packed away for safe keeping kept surfacing in my quest. As most days are since the crash, the entire weekend was bittersweet. Tears and laughter, joy and sorrow. . .

I'm guessing some of you are wondering how I could lose boxes of Christmas ornaments over just a year's time. I should maybe explain that while, yes, it would be possible in my world to do just that, we actually hadn't put up a tree for at least the last five years, maybe more. (Gasp! I know, but my kids turned out just fine despite the Scroogieness.) This year, of course, was different. I knew I had to put up a tree. Thanks to the Clara City Lions and their annual tree sale, I was able to get a near perfect pine of some sort for only $30 bucks. Anyways...

Although I knew deep down that my ornaments were somewhere in my abode, I was beginning to get a little panicky. I tend to go on throwing binges occasionally and I wondered if they had accidentally been tossed. I didn't entertain that thought for long though because if that would have been the case, I probably would have needed a shot (or ten) of valium. You see, other than a few plain red balls, I have yet, in my 43 years, to purchase a single Christmas tree ornament for my tree. Nearly every one of the ornaments has been given to me or my kids by my mom.

I don't know when my mom started purchasing ornaments but I do know that I have my own box (somewhere in my house) dating to my first Christmas way back in '69. When my kids were born she continued the tradition. All three of the kiddos have ornaments, some that are just dated and others with short handwritten greetings on them, back to the years of their birth.

It's funny, even after I stopped putting up a tree, my mom kept giving me ornaments. She even started giving me boxed, filler type ornaments. Really? I thought as I piled those boxes up in my closet year after year and wondered why she was still giving me ornaments, especially the multi-pack boxes of fillers. I could maybe see the keepsake variety, but the boxes?

One of the filler ornaments. It's funny because I
would  have picked the same thing!

Love the simpleness!

I always appreciated every ornament that she gave over the years, although I never quite grasped the entire reason why. There were even times over the years that I thought geez, I'd like to decorate a tree with my own ornaments that I had picked out myself (FYI: I at one time had an extremely bratty side to me. If you don't believe it, because I know it's hard to believe, ask my brothers. I'm sure they'd regale you with a few several tales.) You know, I wanted that perfect department store tree. I couldn't see the bigger picture. 

This year (on so many levels) was different. I got it. I saw the bigger picture. As I unpacked ornament after ornament, it dawned on me what my mom was up to all these years. She had been busy creating the perfect tree for us- a whimsical mix of ornaments that over the years became a tree that was rooted in tremendous love and beautiful memories. You can't buy perfection like that in a department store.

A greeting with love from Grandma!

This must be from the year I
swore off McDonalds.

It's funny how so many things take on new meanings after we finally see the bigger picture. Ornaments that were once thought of as nothing more than a simple, heartfelt gift are now sparkling reminders of a mother's and a grandmother's unending and deep-rooted love. Every year now, for the rest of my life, Christmas memories of my mom will be front and center in my heart when I decorate the tree. It will be the same for my kids as they will soon have trees of their own. This year when I take down the tree, I will be creating boxes for each one, filled with their own ornaments of love and memories from Grandma Marty. Which brings me back to the boxes of filler ornaments. . .

My mom, in her quiet wisdom, knew that someday, I'd return to putting up a tree. She also knew that the kids would someday get their own ornaments leaving my tree pretty sparse. Of course I would need something to put on the tree and the boxes of filler ornaments would work perfectly until she could repopulate my tree with newer keepsake ornaments. I can only imagine the beauties she would have found for me.

For years to come, I will have the perfect foundation of beautiful ornaments, handpicked by my mom with love, to create a new tree--one that blends the old with the new and will be forever rooted in love and memories. And that, to me, is the perfect tree.

 These two beauties above were given to me this year from two women that now occupy a tremendous space in my heart-- Stacy (Michelle's sister, Julia's aunt) and Christi (Michelle's step-mom, Julia's grandma). These new additions to my tree are hanging with incredible love. They remarkably blend in perfectly with the old and couldn't be a more wonderful addition to the foundation for future trees-- ones that will be filled with love and beautiful memories.

A day of joy, love, and sorrow.

 

November 21, 2012

Today, I was reminded--more than once--how fragile life really is. I was also reminded that time spent with friends and family is always, always special. Be intentional about making time for loved ones and cherish every second that you get with them.

For everyone facing the holiday season with the recent loss of loved ones heavy on your heart- seek out joy despite your sorrow and know that you are not alone in your heartache. I know around our house that we will be grasping (no doubt through an enormous amount of tears) for every ounce of joy that we can find. Gratitude will also be in abundance as we have so much to be thankful for.

Happy Thanksgiving and safe travels to all. May you be blessed with joy and love. . .

_________________________________________

A note: This may seem familiar to some as it was my FB status for Thanksgiving 2012. The day before Thanksgiving was a truly incredible one-- a day filled with joy, love, and sorrow.

I began my day over coffee with a dear friend. We laughed and cried, and then laughed and cried some more. Spending time with dear friends is always a blessing. 

Mid-day--an amazing 60 degree day in November--I got to hike, skip stones in the Minnesota river, and soak up nature at its finest with my son, his fiance, and my dogs. Spending time in nature--with my kids and my dogs? Always a blessing.

The end of the day brought me to the scene of a fatal car accident. Although I have been a retired EMT for a few years, it all came rushing back to me. . .  and I knew there wasn't anything that could be done to save a life that evening on the highway. I prayed while waiting for the rescue squad as I knew all too well the sorrow that this man's family would soon be enduring. And then I prayed some more. . .

One of the many things I have learned over the past three months is that life, at times, is completely RANDOM. We never, ever know exactly what is in store for us. We can only take it as it comes--the joy with the heartache--and hope that at the end of the day we  have done our best to make the world a better place. We can only hope that we have done our best to spread love and joy to everyone we meet. 

Living in the present

The glory of the past echoed in my rear view.

Halloween morning, as I was heading down the road to work, the skies were a paradox. In front of me was the remnants of the night sky--complete with the faint glow of a waning moon--and in my rear view, a glorious sunrise was beginning to paint the skies dazzling shades of orange and yellow. In retrospect, I wish I would have taken the time to snap a panoramic photo; but, instead, I opted to grab a shot from my rear view. At the very least, I knew it would capture the gist of the moment.

My very first thought was, “Wow, if the sky isn’t a metaphor for my life right now, what is?” In my rear view was the glorious past. A past that was full of the everyday ups and downs of being part of a big, loving family. A past where smiles and laughter ruled. A past where our family was whole, intact, complete.

The view out my windshield was so very different. Ahead of me was the dark grey horizon, skies that were so very representative of a future that was now so uncertain for the “rest of us.” A future where every moment seems to be bittersweet. A future that has often looked so very bleak for our shattered and shaken family.

I shook my head at the irony of the scene. So often times people tell us to let the past go, to not look back, to move onward and upward, and blah blah blah...I thought to myself. Those sayings hardly apply to such a horribly tragic event like the one in my family and for others that have experienced sudden loss.

Upon arrival at the office I made my breakfast, sat down to skim through my emails, and catch up on my reading. The first thing I saw was an article entitled Happiness is the Value of Every Moment by Gaia Mori. In my state of self-pity that morning I wasn’t really up for the “you can be happy if you choose to be yada, yada, yada” type of article but the first line of the piece really screamed for my attention.

“Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live.” ~Norman Cousins.  Wow, he nailed that one on the head, I thought. Okay, I was hooked and decided to keep reading.

The author then asked the question, “What is happiness?” Obviously, it’s a pretty subjective thing I thought rather snarkily, you really can’t define it, so why even try? Nonetheless, I kept reading and when I got to the following words, the light bulb went off. "I believe happiness is the complete mindful attention and bliss found in the present moment; the present moment is beautiful and fundamentally perfect. Therefore, one must choose to be happy right now in the present, because this is all that exists." Another wow moment. Could it be so simple? 

Almost like clockwork (which happens quite often when I am self-absorbed enough to engage in major doubt) my phone rang, it was a “Happy Halloween” call from my six-year old nephew. To hear his sweet voice on the line talking like we had just seen each other yesterday brought such instantaneous peace and joy, I can’t begin to really even describe it. All I knew was that in that present moment, I was incredibly happy.

A short while later, my son Taylor and his fiance Dawn finally made their wedding date official-- June 21, 2014. Again, a sea of happiness flooded my soul. I allowed myself to be completely joyful in that moment and it was good, very good. Apparently though, I hadn’t learned my lesson yet because the joy-filled moments kept coming. 

Taylor and Dawn- June 21, 2014. 

A text from my bestie needing help with her third-grader’s Halloween party? I’m there. The unexpected time with a classroom full of giggly eight and nine year-old's was pretty awesome and uplifting. There was definitely joy there.

Then, on my way to pick up the hubs, a full-on, complete double rainbow appeared in the skies. Seriously, I couldn’t believe it. The significance of this moment for me was the equivalent of a 2 x 4 slapping me upside the head from above. On any other day, I would have been sobbing hysterically at this sign from the heavens but not today, not in this moment. I laughed, took pictures, and thanked God for that enormous sign of love (all while managing to refrain from shouting out with joy and dancing on the side of the road).

A portion of the double rainbow!

Trick or treaters, candy, family-time, and a cold beverage at my kitchen table with my best friend brought a close to this joy-filled day. As far as days have gone lately, this one was pretty great. Had I not listened to the message so obviously being sent and had I not chosen to be happy in the present that day--despite the sorrow I was feeling-- I would have missed out all of those incredible opportunities for joy.

Life so often comes at us hard and fast. We don’t always have the luxury of choosing to be present in the moment. Sometimes, emotions different than what the present moment requires may suddenly overtake us, spinning the present totally out of control. We may long for a past that we can no longer have and we may worry about the future, even though we can never know for certain what it may bring. The only thing we have is the present. By being present in the moment, whether it’s painful, happy, or somewhere in between, we can truly be authentic to the now. We may not be able to be happy in every moment; but, by truly experiencing the present for what it is, we can begin to hope for a time when our past- no matter the joy and the sorrow that it holds- is not the sole definer of our futures. Living in the present allows us to look in the rear view mirror, to reconcile our past with the now, and to look to the future with hope. It is with hope that we can slowly inch forward to a time in the future when our happy moments far outnumber our sorrowful ones.

Among other brilliant words of wisdom in the article, Mori quoted the Dalai Lama, “When one truly and with every fiber of their being accepts death and the mystery of the future, there is nothing left but to appreciate the present moment." There is nothing left to but to appreciate the moment. Well, those words were one final "wow" moment for me.

So from this day forward, I am challenging myself to accept the yesterday of the rear view mirror and embrace the mystery in front of me. No matter what your life situation may be right now, I challenge you to do the same. I know that it won’t always be easy--in fact, some days will totally and completely suck-- but I also know that deep in my heart, there is hope for brighter skies ahead. I know in my heart that there is hope for a future where the view from the windshield is glorious!

P.S. The original article can be read in its entirety here: http://tinybuddha.com/blog/happiness-is-the-value-of-every-moment/. It's definitely worth the read!

#joy #loss #life

On being courageous. . .

Courage: “The quality of mind or spirit that enables a person to face 

difficulty, danger, pain, etc., without fear.”

BE COURAGEOUS. These two simple words were shared with me by a family member that had received them in a message of encouragement not long after a drunk driver killed my mom, sister-in-law, and niece. At the time I was moved by the simple but powerful message. I jotted it down in my journal later and vowed to make those words my next tattoo.

Over the course of the last several weeks those two words have echoed in my head again and again. It wasn’t until a few days ago though that I actually really got the message. These two words were not only simple and powerful-- they were brilliant.

Being courageous applies to everything and everybody in their own way and in their own time. What’s courageous for one, may not be for another. What’s courageous today, may not be tomorrow. What’s courageous for our family now, might not be a year from now. Being courageous knows no boundaries. It allows us to conquer life on our own terms and face our fears on our own time-- being courageous allows us to do what we need to, when we need to, so our lives can go on. Being courageous allows to forge (albeit slowly and painfully at times) ahead in our lives no matter what life has to throw at us.

Being courageous is so much more than conquering something big. Being courageous is sometimes just conquering the little things in our everyday lives. I thought of all the courageous things I have witnessed, not only in my family and friends since the crash, but at other times in my life. Then, I realized that I witness people acting courageously all the time. I think of the abuse survivors that I have worked with; I think of the people that I know with addictions, with mental illness, with unhealthy relationships, with physical illness, or of those without jobs, housing, friends, or family-- so many people acting courageously every single moment of every single day.

Some days, it's the little things, like finding the courage to simply get out of bed. Other days, it takes courage just to stay there. It takes courage to reach out when you need help; yet, it also takes courage to go it alone for a while. Some days, it takes courage to be there for somebody when they reach out and some days, it takes courage to give them space when they need it. It takes courage to open your heart to pain (or to the pain of others) but it also takes courage to guard your heart when necessary. It takes courage to cry until you have no more tears; it also takes courage hold back those tears. It takes courage to admit when you are vulnerable; it also takes courage to dig deep and be strong. It takes courage to try and forge ahead with a new life; it also takes courage to accept that life will never be the same. It takes courage to be kind when somebody is insensitive; it also takes courage to not be. It takes courage to admit your fears; it takes even more to face them.

"Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says I'll try again tomorrow.”  ― Mary Anne Radmacher.

My wish for you (and for myself if truth be told)--no matter what life has thrown at you- is to find some courage today. If not today, maybe tomorrow.