small things {lies}

small things #20 ... lies

I consider myself a truthful person.  And yet I'd be a liar if I didn't confess that I lie.

Hey, can you take care of these phone calls?

Sure.  No problem.

Are you available to come in and help out on Friday?

You bet.

I need to be at the doctor.  And I need to be at gymnastics.  And I need to be home.

Okey-dokey.  I can do that.

Any chance my kiddo can come over Wednesday afternoon?  And have dinner, too.

Sure thing.

I need my leo for this afternoon and it's in the dirty laundry.

Don't worry.  I'll wash it after breakfast.

We're out of milk.  And pull-ups.

I'll make a quick stop at Wal-Mart.

Screech!  Scream!  Shriek!

Here, let me hold you.

Can you warm up my lunch and bring it to school and when you pick up Sissy?

No problem.  I'll bring it up.

There's a spider in the bathroom!

I'll squish it.

I want to scooter home after school.  Me, too!  Me, too!

Sure.  I'll load three scooters and three helmets in the stroller and meet you at the crosswalk.

Can you sign my permission slip?  And make my lunch?  And make a salad for the PTO?  And copy the MOPS newsletters?

You betcha.  I've got it all under control.

Yep.  I lie.

It would appear from my responses above that I can "do it all".  But I can't.  Not even close.

I am a super mom, but SuperMom, I am not.  

As I was thinking through my compulsive lying, a song came unbidden to mind ... altered just a bit.  Let's see if you recognize this revamped 90's number:

If there's a problem,

Yo, I'll solve it.

Put up your feet and I will resolve it!

SupaMomma!

I'm SupaMomma!

SupaMomma!

I'm SupaMomma!

Lies ... tying me up in puppet-strings; orchestrating my "I've got it covered" dance.

Truth ... freeing me to live within my human boundaries of time, energy and only being in one place at a time!

It's time to sing a new song!  (Sorry Vanilla Ice...)

__________________________________________

Prompt #1 ~List of lies you consistently tell.

Know Thy Limits

Yesterday I shared a bit about the tapped-out, zapped-out, worn-out state I was in last Friday.  But I also shared about how God took advantage of my 40 minutes of monotonous desert driving to speak to my soul, wash me clean and prepare my heart to learn a little something.

One thing I learned was about the dangers of my freakishly high standards that I set for myself.  And how they aren't helping me at all.  Quite clearly God addressed this issue with a mere three words pressed into my heart:  "Know thy limits."  I don't know that He actually used the Old King's English term, "thy", but the truth was so profound, it seemed to me that it needed such honor and respect!

As I laid in bed on Sunday morning, trying to sleep in because I could and finding that I couldn't, my thoughts wandered to the list of to-do's for the upcoming week.  Being genetically hard-wired to plan, I sometimes can't help it, but on this particular morning, I didn't want to think about the tasks ahead.  Deep in my heart, I wanted to marinate in the stillness of not having to do anything ... but it's hard to fight those genes!

As I began to mull over the school activities for the week, the extracurricular events in the evenings, the beginning of watching Baby S full-time,  and the party preparations for Norah's eighth birthday, I felt my shoulders tightening.  Knowing that all those extra parts of life would be sprinkled throughout the usual demands of the day made my heart-rate speed up a bit and I felt myself headed back to that slippery slope of stress.

"Know thy limits."

I reached for my journal and turned to the back page.  Being a genetically inclined list-maker, I made five columns:  God, Brett, Kids, House, Me.  I figured if I could get on paper all the needs and responsibilities, maybe I could order them in a way that would fit into my life.  Into the hours I have in a day.  Into the amount of strength my mortal body contains.

Strangely enough, when I finished my lists, there really wasn't that much there.

• Times of study and prayer fell under God's column.  Simple enough.

• Carving out down-time and just-us-time was in Brett's column.  With a few baked treats thrown in for fun.

• The kids had more, of course, but it appeared manageable.  A few extra needs each day, perhaps, but they seemed to be scattered throughout the week.

• The weekly chores around the house threatened to take on a life of it's own.  But again I had to remind myself that I'm not cleaning the house from top to bottom on a daily basis.  I can deliberately delegate chores to able-bodied little people who live here and the rest will get done eventually.

• And then there was me.  I don't really need much either.  Some free-time and some scheduled time to take care of church and MOPS responsibilities.  Time to write and read.  And maybe a home spa treat from time to time.

"Great.  You know what is on the table.  Now ... know thy limits."

The reality is that I can't do all of it and I can't be everything everyone needs, but I can do a good job of a few things.  The challenge is remembering that there will always be needs, there will always be things to get done, there will always be lists ... but I can't burn myself out trying to tackle them all.  And especially not all at the same time!

Here's a snapshot of me not knowing my limits:

Over the past several weeks, I have been feeling so stressed in the mornings.  We hustle and bustle and sometimes tussle right up until it iss time to blaze out the door for school.  We have a routine to keep:  getting dressed, eating breakfast, family Bible time, brushing teeth, brushing hair, washing faces, packing backpacks, finding shoes, grabbing sweatshirts ... and hopefully doing it all with smiles on our faces.  Then Mommy looks around the house and decides to squeeeeze in just one (or two ... or three) more things:  sort laundry, quick phone calls, tidying up bedrooms, dinner prep, wash dishes ... and suddenly the smiles are gone and there is more tussling than bustling!

Unfortunately, those feelings of being frazzled and frustrated at a too full morning would follow me through my morning and sometimes into my afternoon.  Yuck.  And my kids could feel it, too.  Double-yuck.  And Brett had to hear about it.  Triple-yuck.

As I laid there on Sunday morning, I experienced a mini-epiphany:  I am limited.  And it's okay.

The fact is that I am merely a person ... unlike God.

Here is a mind-blowing verse about God's boundless energy, unlimited resources and fathomless ability to keep all the planets spinning, stars shining, sun blazing.  And keep humanity's needs met, fears quieted, hope alive.  And keep my family's pantry filled, hearts learning, days joyful.  And keep my soul filled, tears dried, wisdom growing.  While I can barely get my housecleaning done!

¹⁷ Now to the King eternal, immortal, invisible, limitless, boundless, infinite, endless, the only God, be honor and glory for ever and ever. Amen. (1 Timothy 1:17, expounding mine)

This week I am trying hard, in the midst of the busy-ness of flu shots, football games, birthday parties, school music programs and inevitable laundry, to "know mine limits" while still tapping into God's inexhaustible strength and immeasurable grace.  What a better place that is to be ... within my own human boundaries ... and with a smile on my face.

What about you?
Do you "know thy limits"?
Are you living within them?

Day 1:  Mom in the Midst

Day 2:  My Button is Lame

Day 3:  Splendidly Lavish

Day 4:  Keeping My Head Above Water

Day 5:  Time-Warp Wednesday ~ Little Me

Day 6:  Me, Myself & I

Day 7:  Food For Though ~ Bacon

Day 8:  The Aches and Pains of Service

Day 9:  I Heart You

Day 10:  Who is Me? {part 1}

Day 11:  Who is Me? {part 2}

Day 12:  Who is Me?  {part 3}

Day 13:  Handmade with Care

Day 14:  Food For Thought ~ Carmel & Apples

Day 15:  A Bunch of Rocks

Day 16:  Not Recycled ... Redeemed

Day 17:  What Do You Do?

Day 18:  Washed on the Delicate Cycle

Day 19:  Know Thy Limits

Washed on the Delicate Cycle

I was a little bit giddy as I loaded up the car last Friday.  As I backed out of the drive, my husband and kids stood on the front step waving.  A few "I love you" waves and I was on the road.  On my way to a girly weekend!

It wasn't until I was on the road that I realized how desperately I needed this time.  I had acknowledged in my head that I was a bit tapped out, physically and emotionally, but my heart had a whole lot more to say on the subject:

You are spread thin.
You have given all you have.
You are running on fumes.
You are headed for a breakdown.

And how did my heart communicate these facts to the rest of me?  With crazy crying!

Out of the blue, just as I hit the desert south of town, Sara Groves started singing, "Twice As Good", on the car stereo and it was all over!  Big, gulping-for-air Mommy-sobs.  Shoulder-shaking, body-wrenching, full-blown weeping.  Crying my eyes out and completely unable to control myself.  I was so glad I was alone!

Now ... let me say that I would not recommend blubbering and driving at the same time.  You run into such problems as feeling the need to set the cruise control at 50 mph ... a safe enough speed in your current sniveling situation, but resulting in piercing stares by the drivers shooting past you.  Peering into your car as you sob and sniffle.

If your waterworks are unexpected, you might find that your tissues are in short demand ... resulting in one sodden tissue being unable to hold up to the oh-so-necessary nose blow.  Trust me, it's not a pretty picture!

You also run the risk of arriving at your destination looking a bit raw:  red eyes, red nose and red streaked cheeks.  Nothing says, "I'm ready for fun!" like a bleary eyed guest arriving with smeared glasses and a sniffling nose.

I had not intended to spend the first 40 minutes of my weekend away wailing and weeping, but it was exactly what I needed.  I had inadvertently been tucking away a myriad of emotions over the past several weeks.  Each on their own, they were simple and manageable, but as they piled up inside, they had begun to churn.  Unbeknownst to me, there was a perfect storm brewing in my soul!

As I set my iPod to shuffle through my Sara Grove's albums, her words and God's truths came pouring out of the speakers and into my heart.  And those tears that had been stopped up, finally found an escape!

Now before you feel sorry for me, let me assure you that these were not "woe is me" tears or "I'm so blue" tears.  They were purely tears of release, renewal and relief.  These tears were washing over me (quite literally) with the purpose of freeing me.  With each song (and new torrent of tears!) ...

I felt my stress wash away, releasing me from my "should's" and "ought's".  

I felt my tension wash way, allowing my shoulders and neck relax. 

I felt my anxiety wash away, to be replaced with peace.

I fully believe that I didn't know what I needed, but God did and He took that time when I was quiet and a bit fragile to care for my heart.  In Romans 8, we read a lovely picture of the Holy Spirit's privileged ministry to us:

²⁶ In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans. ²⁷ And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for God’s people in accordance with the will of God.

As I approached Delta, I felt that intense exhaustion that comes along with a good hard cry.  I felt like I had been rung out ... much like the clothes stuck to the side of the washer drum after the spin cycle.  I cautiously sniffled, listened to another beautiful song, "Small Piece of You", and didn't break out into a fresh wave of wailing.  I breathed deeply and felt only that precious sense of being emptied of heartache and waiting patiently to be filled up again.

In those final 20 minutes, my 48-hours of fun truly began.  Mat Kearny and I be-bopped our way to Montrose and when I arrived at the doorstep of my sister's house, my eyes had returned to their normal shade of blue, my nose was no longer sniffling, my shoulders were relaxed and my heart was read to be encouraged.  

I trusted God to use that time, my break from being "Mom", as an opportunity to fill me up.  

And He did.

But more on that tomorrow!

Day 1:  Mom in the Midst

Day 2:  My Button is Lame

Day 3:  Splendidly Lavish

Day 4:  Keeping My Head Above Water

Day 5:  Time-Warp Wednesday ~ Little Me

Day 6:  Me, Myself & I

Day 7:  Food For Though ~ Bacon

Day 8:  The Aches and Pains of Service

Day 9:  I Heart You

Day 10:  Who is Me? {part 1}

Day 11:  Who is Me? {part 2}

Day 12:  Who is Me?  {part 3}

Day 13:  Handmade with Care

Day 14:  Food For Thought ~ Carmel & Apples

Day 15:  A Bunch of Rocks

Day 16:  Not Recycled ... Redeemed

Day 17:  What Do You Do?

Day 18:  Washed on the Delicate Cycle

It's a Short-Cut ... Sorta

If being a mom has taught me anything, it's that evolution is complete and utter nonsense!  If evolution were true, then I would have six arms, a set of eyes in the back of my head and the ability to cognitively listen to my four kids with four different ears.  But as of last check ... I'm just a regular, old, two-armed, two-eared, two-eyed mom.  Bummer ...

In light of my normal body configuration, I am required on a regular basis to compensate for these short-comings.  Often with unfortunate results.  While attempting to complete several normal tasks around the house more quickly or more efficiently, I frequently find myself with more work to do, due to goofs and gaffes.  Let me elaborate ...

While bringing in the groceries one afternoon, I ended up with an huge mess, just because I was going to be stronger and quicker.  Little Aaron was about a year old and I was preggo with Norah.  It was summer-time and we were living in a little duplex on a lonely street.  It was hot, Aaron needed to take a nap and I had three grocery bags to lug inside quickly.  In my mad dash attempt to get-er-done, I grabbed the three plastic sacks in own hand, Aaron and my purse in the other and, kicking the car door shut with my foot, headed for the front door.  About three staggering steps from the threshold, I felt my grocery-bag-hand slipping.  One bag fell open and crash! the jar of spaghetti sauce fell to the concrete and shattered.  Oh-no.  I plopped Aaron on the couch and the bags on the kitchen table.  I walked back to the front door.  Rubbing my temples with one hand and my aching back with the other, I stood there a moment and looked at the devastation.  What a mess.  Then I shut the door, scooped the tired boy in my arms and we went and took a nap.  I don't really remember cleaning up the mess (maybe Brett does!), but I do remember taking an extra trip the next time I unloaded the groceries.

Another time I was loading the washing machine with a load of laundry.  I had tossed all the dirty clothes in only to discover a couple of socks had escaped the basket ... probably with a little "help" from Lydia.  I leaned down to scoop up the socks and tossed them back toward the washing machine.  The washing machine that had the lid closed.  The socks slid across the top of the washing machine and down the side to the dark murky crevasse below.  Grrrrr ...  Our washer and dryer are snugged up against the wall which means that unless I have Elastic Girl's arms, I have a job ahead of me.  While the washing machine waited patiently for its last two items, I squeezed my left arm down the wall with a ruler trying to flick the wayward socks back to the light.  Eventually I was successful, but not before I made a mental note to place the clothes in the washer instead of flinging them.

Finally, I had a rude awakening of the need to not try and take a short-cut when I tried to cram two hours worth of errands into 45 minutes.  It didn't go well.  It was the middle of a really crazy week.  We were celebrating a birthday, doing the usual school & gymnastic routines, volunteering in the kids' classrooms and trying to support our kids by attending an open house at their school.  And that was in the midst of just the regular life stuff ... you know:  feeding people, kissing boo-boos and keeping some sort of peacefulness in our home.  Suddenly Wednesday rolled around and I found myself with about 45 minutes and more than enough to fill it up.  Off to Target we ran, literally, to fill the cart with birthday items, toiletries and last minute gifty things.  With one agreeable child and one who wasn't.  Forty-three minutes later, we bundled back into the car and one-third of us were smiling.  I had yet another reminder that when I stretch myself too thin ... it hurts.  This short-cut of getting something done quickly ... something that would be impossible to actually do in the time allotted makes for one tired mommy.

When, oh when, am I going to learn that short-cuts and quick-tricks typically cost me more than they are worth?!?  In each episode above, if I had slowed down and taken a breather, I would have seen the logic in going back for an extra trip, looking before tossing and shopping when I actually have time.  And my kids would have enjoyed a less crazy, less frantic, less stressed mom.  Here's to hopping I've learned my lesson ... but don't count on it! :)

Gimme a Break!

This is a post I typed up yesterday ... just so you don't get confused. :)

As I sat last night in the big kids' room, settling in to read a chapter from the mystery book we are working through, I had to move aside a discarded clothing hanger, clear away a couple dozen miscellaneous Lego pieces (mainly heads), re-shelve a handful of books, stuff a couple of abandoned empty ziplock bags back in their home and gather up several necklaces and add them to the random assortment of odds and ends on the kids' table.

After reading, I headed downstairs to tidy up the family room:  putting away the lonely shoe, collecting an odd assortment of Legos (previously a ship, I think), gather up two pom-poms and their exploding parts and deposit a conglomeration of doll paraphernalia in the toy bin.

Finally, I took a few minutes to clear part of the dining room table of the random library books, a sweatshirt, craft paper and ... you guessed it, the rubble remains of a Lego plane.

My kids have been pollinating again and it's kinda driving me nuts!  You fellow parents know how it goes.  Your kid plays with something, gets distracted by another toy, drops the first and moves on to the next.  At some point, another toy catches her eye and she abandons the second toy to play with the third.  Eventually, yet another prized possession draws her attention and before you know it there are a half dozen toys rejected and deserted and dropped.  Right there.  In the middle of the floor.  Then, if you multiply that pollination by the number of kids you have in your home ... aaaahHHH!  Your house looks like a tornado went through it.  Twice!  My home has a bit of a neglected look to it and I want to put the kids to work whipping it back into shape ... but not today.

And that's just the kids' stuff.  :)  Brett and I have a little problem area in our kitchen that also drives me a bit batty.  Actually it's two areas.  One countertop is where we put the mail we don't want to throw out yet, or papers, magazines, flyers that we don't know what to do with.  The other countertop is the stuff we know we need to keep, but don't have a plan for.  The first countertop is partially camouflage by the basket holding our fabric napkins.  The second countertop actually has two handy organizers that are currently drowning in receipts, bills, oversized envelopes, notebooks, a new GPS gizmo (and it's packaging), a camera and a battery charger.  Both of these areas need some serious attention and I have full intentions of attacking them ... but not today.

My dining room table is currently Halloween Costume Central.  Yesterday the kids and I went shopping for fabric and accessories for their costumes.  I spent some time yesterday working on a few parts and I feel only a little overwhelmed with the prospect of getting the rest of it finished.  Yes ... I officially have 21 days before the costumes need to be ready, but still I am feeling a little nuts about adding more to my daily schedule.  I really should at least sit down and cut out the patterns ... but not today.

Why not today?  Because it's Sunday and today is supposed to be the one day of the week that I take a break.  Take a breather.  Take a rest.  But how?

I actually told the kids last night that we were going to "go at it" today and get the house back in some semblance of order before the week started.  I told Brett last night that I wanted to tackle the kitchen counters and that I would leave him a stack of his own papers to sort.  I also spent sometime last night mentally going through the next costume tasks and had lined up a plan of attack.  I also typically take time on Sunday to make up meals for the week and compile my grocery list. I also wanted to write a bit and get ahead for my posts this week.  Hmmmmm ... it's not sounding very restful, is it?

Then, as I was updating my dry-erase board calendar, I came across my standing entry for Sunday:  Rest.  As I sat at the kitchen table after church, looking at that word ... Rest ... I had a little wrestling match with God.  How exactly am I supposed to rest when my to-do list is so long?  How exactly am I supposed to rest when there are deadlines to be met?  How exactly am I supposed to rest when it feels like if I stop, I'll never get caught up?  Rest .... Rest ... Rest.  "Alright, God.  I'm listening."

At this point, God brought to mind that last two devotionals that Brett and I read together.  As we settled into bed last night and the night before, our reading was focused on the Sabbath.  The passage from the Bible was Genesis 2:3, "Then God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because in it He rested from all His work which God had created and made."  The God of the universe, took a break.  Took a breather.  Took a rest.  He had worked, He had created, He had made and then He took time to rest.  Now if the the Creator of the world felt that it was appropriate and necessary to be recharged by rest on a regular basis, why in the world would I think that little old me could go non-stop?  It really is quite ridiculous. :)  But God knows that about me ... and loves me anyway!

God knows me inside and out and He knows my limits and my abilities.  He knows that I'm a go-getter, a get-er-doner, a just-keep-at-it-gal.  He knows that I feel better about me when I'm productive and have something to show for my time and efforts.  He knows that I have a tendency to run myself all the way to empty ... and then just a little bit further.  He knows that I have trouble being still.  But, He also knows that I can't be all "go" all the time.  My body, mind and spirit need to rest.  So there I was ... sitting with a list a mile long and a simple choice to make.  Rest or Work?

I took a deep breath ... looked at the piled-high countertops and the toy bins brimming over with homeless gadgets ... and said, "Okay, God.  I'll rest.  But I'm going to need Your help."  I believe that He will help me to get done the necessary jobs around the house ... tomorrow.  And I believe that He will help me come to terms with the stuff that doesn't get done.  But more than anything, I believe that He will bless me for my obedience to rest.  I don't know how, but I'll know it when I see it.

Now I'm off to read a bit ... with my feet up ... and I might even take a minute to doze.  Tomorrow will be the day to work, but today ... it's a time to rest.

But first ... I need to get Norah set up to finger-weave.  Flash-backs to childhood ensue! :)

Gumby vs. Tin Man

My two little girls are gymnasts-in-training.  They are springy, bouncy and seemingly stretchy.  When they plop down on the floor to stretch out (either here at home or at Kidzplex) they amaze me with their flexibility!  Sweet Norah can do her splits both ways (right leg to the front and also left leg to the front) and she regularly freaks me out when she lays down in the straddle position:  one foot pointing in one direction, the other foot in the opposite direction and her upper-body laying down perpendicular.  Eek!

What a "wingspan"!

It always reminds me of playing with our Barbies as kids and trying to get our dolls to do the splits.  Inevitably we popped a leg off!  Ashley has yet to start working on split in her class, but she likes to try here at home.  She is also very good a folding up like a suitcase (on her back with her legs folded up over her head) and she can lay on her belly and touch the back of her head with her toes ... there's a picture!!

Such a smiley Gumby!

And this only barely begins to touch on the many, many things my kids can do that I can't.  At least not without some help getting back up!   A few months ago, Norah was working on her back bends and the other two kids were joining in.  I don't know if I felt a little left out or what happened, but I decided that I wanted to try it.  I should have take the incredulous looks from my kids as warnings, but I didn't.  I settled myself on the floor and got my hands over my head.  So far, so good!  I worked my feet back toward my backside and started to push with my hands to get myself off the floor.  Too far, not so good!  Apparently it looked as bad as it felt because the kids cracked up! (Aaron especially ... as he made a mad dash for the bathroom!)  I think I held my back bend for approximately 0.0025 seconds.

This was my inspiration.

Another time shortly after this (you would think I would learn my lesson!) I wanted to try doing a candlestick.  Norah had one in her routine and I thought it didn't look too hard.  For those of you unfamiliar with this yoga pose, you lay on your back and then lift your legs up straight with your toes pointed at the ceiling so that only your shoulders and head are on the floor.  You can use your hands on her hips to help stabilize yourself.  I got the laying flat on my back down, no problem.  Then I needed to lift my feet up perpendicular to the floor ... again, no problem.  Now I needed to lift my hips up off the floor ... big problem! I seemed to be glued to the carpet.  I finally managed to use a little momentum to fold up with my feet up by my head.  At this point, Aaron is laughing and inching his way towards the bathroom, but he doesn't want to miss anything.  I manage to get my hands on my hips and my elbows braced on the floor.  I then slowly I raised my feet up as close to perpendicular as I could get ... probably more like 80 degrees.  Trust me, my hands were not stabilizing me ... they were holding me up!  Finally the giggles got to be too much and I flopped down to the ground.  So much for any illusions of being a yoga-master!

Now why would I share with you such shining stories about me?  I mean, besides for a good laugh!  Well ... it has become increasingly clear to me that I have made a transition from Gumby to the Tin-Man and I don't know that I'll ever bounce back.  I watch my girls and marvel at their flexibility, strength and pure bendability.  They might make every move look easy, but it's only because they are young and their joints are connected with rubber bands!  Oh, to be that young again!

This weekend I am celebrating my birthday and while I'm still very young (just a mere 35 years old), I have been feeling a bit creaky and squeaky lately.  I think the part that is hardest for me is that I am quite young and if I already feel like this now, what will I feel like in 20 years?!?  My intention here is not to throw myself a pity-party, but it's more to find out who else feels like this.  


Does anybody else out there hobble around in the morning waiting for their legs and feet to warm up?  


Does anybody else out there worry about putting their back out (again) by lifting up a sock?


Does anybody else out there feel like the recovery from a hard work-out takes more than just a few days?  


Does anybody else out there wish they could freeze frame their health back when they were 20-something ... and enjoy the rest of life with a bit more bounce and a little less crrreeeaaak?


Does anybody else still "feel" young on the inside and feel a bit of shock when they see a picture of themselves ... "That can't be me!!"


The very strangest part of getting older is discovering that the people who have always been older than you (teachers, professional athletes, movie stars) are either your peers or ... gasp! ... younger than you!  How did that happen?!  With this awareness comes the realization that there are a growing number of things that I won't do or accomplish.  The door to being in the Olympics, for instance, has been locked, bolted and hermetically sealed!  I also have had to say "goodbye" to any childhood dreams I have had to be a rodeo princess, an astronaut or world record-holding synchronized swimmer.  But, does that mean that I can't set other goals for myself ... goals that are a little more reasonable?  Absolutely not!


There are still a few things that I would like to do "when I grow up".  :)

I would like to be a tutor for adults learning English as a second language.

I would like to help in a library and pass on my love of books to others.

I would like to compete in a 5k walk/run ... just to see if I could do it.

I would like to get comfortable riding a bike so I can enjoy that with my kids.  (For those of you who know me well ... that's a big one!  Let's just say that I'm okay on a bike as long as NO ONE is near me.  If you get too close to me I will run you over!)

I would like to continue writing and discover what God's plan is for this gift.

And I would like to be a tad bit more limber ... like able to touch my toes.  And maybe hold a back bend for an entire second!  :)

I'll keep you posted as to how God is growing me up.  What is He up to in your life? :)

"Labor Day" True to Its Name

On Sunday, I told Brett that I wanted to do something fun on Monday, seeing as it was Labor Day and we could do something together as a family.  We made plans with friends to go on a hike and later have a picnic lunch together ... and so begins yet another Kellum Adventure!

Before I start, let me share with you two dreams that Brett and I had the night before ... if I believed in premonitions, I would have listened better! :)  My dream was about going on this hike only to have the plans changed at the last minute to a river float trip.  I was left scrambling as I tried to round up life-preservers for the kids.  This dream might be an indicator of my level of preparedness for this trip!  Brett's dream focused around lower back pain ... his is the only dream that came true!

And one more thing before I start ... if our friends are reading this:  We had a great time the entire day!  It was just more than we bargained for ... in a lot of ways! :)

Okay ... so here it goes!  We planned to meet up with our group in Palisade at 9 am.  After stopping off to get muffins and a few supplies, we pulled into the gravel parking lot and waited.  Right at nine, the rest of our party arrived and we agreed to follow each other over to the trailhead.  Our hiking group consisted of our family of six, another family of four, three neighborhood kids and another couple (who probably had no idea what they were in for!).  We made sure we were all fully sunscreened and that everyone had water, extra snacks and hats.  We took a group picture, "Cheese!", and headed off to ... Mt. Garfield!  If you are familiar with the Grand Valley, Mt. Garfield is that really high mountain just north of I-70.  It towers out over the valley.  It's really high and steep. There was a sign at the trail head that said, "Mt. Garfield - 2 miles - 2,000 feet".  You get the picture.

Now for a little background, I like to hike, but I'm not necessarily into mountain climbing.  Brett also enjoys hiking, but again, for the past several years (in direct reference to the size and age of our family) our hiking trips have been mainly walks with some ups and downs.  Just so you know what kind of background and experience we are bringing with us into this trip.

Climbing the "wall".

Each of us had a kid-pack on our backs - not that I ever ended up carrying anyone.  Lydia certainly had the easiest trip as she was strapped to Daddy's back.  I had the pack on just in case Ashley's little 18-inch legs gave out.  We headed out ... and up.  Imagine your living-room wall.  Now imagine it at a slight slant and covered in loose dirt and small rocks.  Now imagine climbing it.  That about sums it up!  There was no gradual climb or warming up.  It was straight up the dunes and then on up until your lungs exploded.  We did take a few breaks here and there.  But it was onward and upward.  About 30 minutes in, poor little Ashley started saying she couldn't walk anymore.  Unfortunately for her, neither could Mommy.  This is where my pride started to get in the way.  It was becoming quickly and obviously clear that I was waaaaaay out of my league with this mountain and yet ... onward and upward!

A few more minutes of encouraging little Le-Le along and one of the other adults offered to wear the pack and load up Ashley.  Whew ... now if there was only a pack for me.  Brett was huffing along (remember he had Lydia on his back ... and every extra pound counts) and taking regular breaks.  Meanwhile, the rest of the party was motoring on and the kids are literally scrambling over boulders.  I was looking up (and up and up and up) and I was not feeling the charge of tackling this mountain ... I was feeling shaky and just a little nauseous.  I consider myself to be in relatively good shape, but this hike was more than I could do.  Finally, I swallowed my pride (gosh darn it ... I wanted to do this!) and signaled that I was done.  All I could think was, "The farther I go up, the farther I have to go back down.  I need my legs to work the whole hike."  Brett, being the sweetie, agreed to go back down with me.  I'm quite certain that he would have just kept goin' and goin' and goin', but he opted to head down with me and the two little ones.

The view from my "top".

I had to sit for a bit to get my feet back under me (and, no, I didn't throw up ... but I was close.)  While I sat there, I had a little battle going on in my head and heart.  It was a terribly hard choice.  I struggled with what others thought of me, I struggled with disappointment with myself and I struggled with being up against something that my kids were going to do without me.  But the reality was that I would be foolish if I continued on.  I had to have a little perspective change up there on the side of that mountain.  From my perch on that rock, I could see the span of the valley and I decided that I would have to enjoy just what I was able to do and not kick myself for my limitations.  When my head felt re-attached to my body again, we headed back down the slope while the rest of the party marched on.  It was a little weird to let Aaron & Norah continue, but I was sure they were in good hands and their enthusiasm had not waned a bit ... a good indicator for me that they could go the distance.

Now, as you know, the path up the mountain is hard work, but the path back down is hard on your body ... specifically your knees and ankles.  I am so glad that I didn't over-tax my body on the way up, because the trip down was all I could really do.  Brett had Lydia still on his back, so he went on ahead and paused periodically for us to catch up.  Meanwhile, Ashley and I "baby-stepped" down the hill.  Little baby-steps down the slope, little baby steps over the boulder, little baby steps over the ravine ... I think I we would have made Dr. Leo Marvin from "What About Bob?" proud!  I was blessed with a few little precious snapshots with Ashley that I would have missed if I was over-taxed (or being flown out in a helicopter! ha, ha!)  Here are a few of her sweet words, "I can see the whole planet from up here!", "You're a good hiker, Mommy, just like me." and "Daddy's the best hiker 'cause he has long legs."  I am grateful for all the time I got to hold little Ashley's hand and hear her child-like commentary on the hike down, "I think God painted these rocks pink ... I like pink."

When we finally landed on the flat ground again (at 11:11 am), we set Lydia loose to run a bit and explore with Ashley.  Just about then, my cell phone rang and it was one of our party letting us know that they had reached the top and were headed to the summit.  Aaron and Norah were doing great and plugging along with the pack.  We decided to head into town to go potty and get gas and then we would meet the group back at the trail head for lunch.  I started to feel a little regret ... nobody likes to be a party-pooper ... but there was nothing to do now but wait.  At about 12:30 we saw our party, little ants in a line, moving slowly back down the trail.  It was a slow trek back down the mountain, but they were making steady progress.  Brett headed back up the hill to meet up with them and make sure our kids were still doing well (see ... I knew he could have done the whole hike!) while we girls moseyed to the bottom of the slope to "Hail the Conquering Heroes"!

There is something powerful and amazing to watch your kids accomplish something big, something you aren't able to do.  It was hard no to be a bit teary eyed watching them come galloping down the hill (their knees were giving out, too) and to see their huge, proud smiles on their faces!  They had done it and they had done it well. The adults looked bushed, but they were still smiling and had great things to say about the kids persevering and pushing themselves.  I loved hearing the banter back and forth from them all as then recounted exciting parts of the trip:  the rattlesnake, the path blocked by the boulder they had to climb and the fantastic view from the summit.

We all made it back to the vehicles, but the adventure wasn't over yet.  If it had just been us Kellums hiking, it would have been a PB&J lunch in the car and then head home.  But, that wasn't our friends' plans.  We headed over to a vineyard in Palisade that had a big grassy area and picnic tables.  Our friends had packed an amazing spread including home-grown tomatoes and fresh, sliced mozzerella; hummus and veggies and fresh sandwich makings.  We topped it off with some celebratory wine and a sweet time of adult conversation ... while the kids ran around playing tag.  Where do that get that energy?!?!

So as I said before, we got more than we bargained for ... but in a good way!  I got to come up against my limitations and come to terms with the fact that there are some things I cannot do.  I got to swallow my pride and make a tough choice.  I still got a great view of the Grand Valley (Ashley's whole planet!). I enjoyed some quality time with my girls and I came face to face with Brett's love (again) as he chose to serve me.  I also got to see my kids step up and step out in the face of a big challenge ... and come back down the mountain a few inches taller.  I had the joy of a yummy lunch and fun conversation.  I had the wonderful experience of a hard day's work and the feeling of "ahhh" at the end.

Mt. Garfield

And I have the gift of reliving all this again every time we drive I-70 and look up at Mt. Garfield looming over the highway ... reliving the time my kids climbed to the top ... and I didn't, but I didn't throw up, either! :)