As most are aware (some more keenly aware than they’d like),
I am running my first full marathon on Sunday, March 17…that’s 26.2 miles,
baby! It is definitely intimidating, but
I am not one to shy away from things that scare me.
See, when I was in college, there were three fears I had, as
I headed into “the real world”. 1. Getting
fat, 2. being financially unstable, and 3. a loved one getting cancer.
I know you are probably thinking…really? “Getting Fat” – that’s easy – just exercise
and eat well. Sure, we all know that, but it is really hard. Especially when you it’s your last year of
college, you are engaged, planning a wedding out of town, your fiancé is 5
hours ways, you are taking 21 and 24 credit hours per semester (respectively),
applying to grad schools, and trying to figure out where you are going to live
in a few months. Okay, so you get the
picture…I’m wired this way. I’ve always
done “too much”. So, the weight crept
on, and on and on…until I had to face those other fears, too, and then it was
too much for me to handle. So, God
handled it.
And God being God, made me face each one of those fears….face
to face. Up close and personal. Using it to change me into who I was created to
be. And you know what happens when you
face your fears? When you realize that
you’ve made it through and someone (or some people) have held you and carried you
through it? Well, for one thing, you
have scars. But these scars are
beautiful because they are a reminder that you’re still alive – you still have
purpose. They are an Ebenezer *. And, there is freedom in facing your
fears. Because now…I don’t fear
anything. I know that whatever comes,
whatever trial, whatever challenge, I can withstand it. Not through my own strength, but through
Christ’s and through those that he brings along side of me to encourage me on
the journey.
The most pivotal years of my life, when all of this facing
of fears came to a head, happened to coincide with Ella’s first 2 years of life. It strikes me that she is my spirited child,
having endured these hardships with me, in sorts, in her early years of
development. I KNOW that she will be one
that can change the world, if only her spirit is guided in the right way. She’s a mirror of my emotions (good and bad)
from the time she was born.
So, let me break it down like this…certain “life events” are
defined as “stressors”. Not all are bad –
such as a birth or new job – but they are transitions that cause some degree of
upheaval, stress, and what-not. Some,
are obviously bad – health concerns, job loss, death. In a two year peiod, Summer of 2007 to Summer of 2009, I had over TWENTY “life
events” or “stressors”. I don’t make a
point of this for pity’s sake. But, so
that you know the reality of what I went through and how it turned out. Here are most of these events:
- Finish certification process to become birth doula
- Best friend going through awful divorce
- Said friend and her 5 yr. old son move in with us during my 9th month of pregnancy with 3rd child
- 3rd child born – Eleanor Rose
- Transition to working from home
- Dad diagnosed with aggressive brain cancer
- Oldest child, Rachel begins Kindergarten (we all are learning about “school life”)
- Dad undergoes surgery, treatments
- Host dad and family during time of surgery, recovery, treatment
- Multiple trips to see Dad, especially during final 5 weeks, on Hospice
- Dad dies
- Back to work a week later – have to make up lost time and work 50-70 hr/wk (normally 20 hr/ wk)
- Have to sell Mom’s house – clean out Mom’s house ; garage sale, house on market, with 3 kids in tow
- Family Discord
- Decide to quit job, and work on developing birth doula business
- Find out I’m pregnant – not planned, and mixed emotions, finally excited about it
- Miscarriage (my 2nd one)
- Mom sells house
- Mom has to move in with us
- Construction begins on home renovations/ additions with 3 generations under one roof
- Find lump in breast – undergo ultrasounds and mammogram. Thankfully, negative.
During this time, I went from losing my baby weight, and
walking regularly (with double jogging stroller), to gaining almost 50 pounds
in a year. I didn’t know where to start
with making changes. It was too daunting
a task. I remember the day after
Thanksgiving 2008, complaining to Rob that I was too fat and how much I hated
it! In what was not one of his finest
moments (or was it?), he said bluntly, “ Well, get off your a$$ and start
moving.” (okay, maybe he didn’t say it exactly that way, but that is what I
heard.) I stormed out of the house, and ran. I was going to show him. So, I made it to the end of the street (we’re
the second house in), and ran out of breath.
I kept a fast walking pace, not knowing where I was going.
I ended up at a nearby park.
I sat under a tree for nearly an hour.
This was the first time I remembered being alone since my dad had died,
8 months prior. I finally had a moment
to grieve. I cried. A lot. Which is rare for me. I realized something: As it turned out, I didn’t just hate being
fat, I hated me. I was a miserable
person. I am sure I made things difficult
for everyone around me.
This realization didn’t change things automatically. But it was a start. A seed was planted. I knew I at least wanted to get out of this
hole I was in. Something had to be done.
Well, as things went, it would be 2 more years before
everything clicked. I was finally faced
with a decision…what did I want for Christmas (2010)??? You can read my previous post to know how
that went. How I started my journey to getting
healthy.
When I look back, there are several events that are too
important to be considered coincidence. Step
one in getting me through all of this was the Lord’s hand in where we ended up
with a church family. A year prior to
all of this, we were living in Raleigh and going to church in Durham (45 min.
away) - where we had previously lived.
It was a HUGE decision to leave that church, and find a new one. I admit, I was skeptical that we’d find a good
one. We “happened” upon Redeemer
Church. During these months and years of trials, I can honestly say that I literally felt the Lord’s presence with me
through these people. THAT is what the
church is about – not a building, but the PEOPLE, coming along side each
other. They literally shared in my
burdens and carried me through that time.
It was soon after my Dad died that I joined the music team, singing on a
rotating basis for Sunday morning worship.
I cannot begin to explain how integral this was to the healing and
growing that needed to happen within.
See, when I am singing on Sunday morning, I feel the closest to my
Dad. He was a Pastor, and he LOVED some
of these songs we sing. Not only that,
but some of the songs talk of heaven, and those saints that go before us
there. I imagine that at that very
moment I am singing, my Dad is doing the same exact thing. Singing praises to our God. We have that unity, although he is gone from
this earth.
The other amazing thing about this church I call “Family” is
that they pray. And I don’t just mean
wishes and hopes and holding you to the light.
They PRAY as I have never been witness to. So, when I decided to take on this “exercise
and getting healthy” thing, I asked a few to pray. That I would be motivated, that I would stick
with it. That I would change.
And they did. And I
did.
So, this running a marathon thing…it isn’t about me. It’s about a work that has been done in me
and through me. It’s about those that
have been with me on this journey.
When I run, I usually have a playlist of songs that inspire
me. There are some songs on that list that
remind me of specific people, or groups of people. There are songs that we hear in boot camp –
those women have been right there with me in this “fight” to be fit and
healthy; there are songs that make me think of my RunnerPeeps friends; there
are songs that make me think of some in my church family. Each one of these people is with me on my run
– giving strength and encouragement with every stride.
And I know my Dad is looking down, too. (If I get to heaven
and realize this isn’t, in fact, true, I won’t care at that point.) Today, when going through itunes in preparing
my Marathon Playlist, I came across a song that I listened to a lot when my Dad
was dying. I have not listened to it in
a few years (unintentionally). It’s a
song called “Just a Little” by Leigh Nash (by the way, she is one of my most
favorite voices, and I listened to her a lot during my labor with Ella). The whole song is wonderful, but there is a
line that says, “Love breaks your heart, to teach you to be strong. I die just
a little, so I can live a little bit more.”
I think that sums things up for me. March 30 marks the 5th Anniversary
of my Dad’s death. My heart was
broken. But, I have learned that it CAN
heal, and it can be strong. I can die to
things of this world and of myself, to truly live. And I hope, for my girls’ sake, that I live a
little bit more.
PS – that 3rd fear about finances…yeah, faced
that one too. But the story is still
being written. Stay tuned.
