So You Think You Can Run?

After a hiatus which lasted, oh, just about 4 years, I have finally worked myself back up to running a strong 3 miles.

Let's define strong as not easily winded with legs that do not fold like a cheap card table upon reaching the finish.

Let's not define strong as fast.

It was March of 2000 when I learned I was pregnant for the first time. That week, I went out running at the slough behind Newport Coffeehouse and ran 3 miles in 26.14.

26.14.

I kept that time on my watch for YEARS.

In the years prior to that time, I pulled in a 29:00 and a 28:00, but had never run as fast as a 26:00.

It has never happened again.

Following Harper's birth I ran a half-marathon for which I trained hard. I will always remember the 10 miles I put in before the race. I remember running up to Northwestern from our condo on Monroe, and thinking, "Did I really just run that far"? I remember the run back along the lakefront and stopping at the showers outside the beach to cool off before finishing the last bit of the course. Upon turning onto Monroe, I could see Harper and George waiting for me outside the condo, cheering me in. It felt great.

The race, however, was a different story. I may have felt good during that 10 miler, but something went terribly wrong on the actual race day. It was hot. There was absolutely no shade on the course. I began to get a blister. I pulled in a time of 2:30. Still, not bad for a first half marathon, but slower than I had planned.

Zane was born, and it was running that helped me get back into shape. With the help of a dear friend, I worked back up to training for a second half marathon. This one came in at a 2:20. Following this, I relayed the Baltimore Marathon to celebrate my sister's 40th birthday. I had a 5 mile leg, which I ran at 10:40/mile.

That was 2005.

Haven't run a lick since.

That is, until I moved here.

I live in a prime location for running. Out my door, down to the end of the street, up River Road, and back to my street is 3 miles. There are gobs of runners going past my door on any given morning. Seriously, as I sat typing on Saturday morning, runner after runner after runner, took their turn on the slight incline that is my block.

I hadn't run all week, due to the fact that I am a terrible morning person. A trait I have always abhorred and have tried time and time again to conquer. Thankfully, today was cool, so I headed out around in the afternoon.

It was one of those glorious runs that only runners understand. The ones where you feel euphoric, as if you could go on forever. Some call it the "runner's high". My breathing was great. My legs felt loose and relaxed, as well as incredibly strong (that's what a 3 story house with a basement will do to you). I wondered if I should push myself a bit more, or just continue to keep it leisurely.

I didn't even feel winded after those 3 miles.

No, I didn't run particularly fast.

I did run steady.

I really do believe that, barring serious injury, anyone can run.

It's not about speed. It's about stability. Mental toughness. A desire to persevere and follow-through. It's about making it to the finish line.

Remember that story about that turtle and rabbit? It seems to me as if stability, mental toughness, perseverance, and follow through were all winners in that story.

I want to have endurance. I want to feel strong and empowered at the finish - not depleted and worn down. I want to feel that "high", as if I could run for hours and not grow weary.

So too in life.

So, do you think you can run?

First Communion

Two Sunday's ago, Harper and I had the joy of worshipping together in the back pew of our church. Usually, this is difficult, as our sanctuary is very large, and sitting in the back doesn't offer a great visual for children - or adults for that matter. But, we came late, and thus, that's what was available.

She had her worship journal with her, and as has been the habit for several weeks now, we settled into our tradition of writing questions and answers back and forth regarding faith and the service.

This week, however, the written conversation took a big turn as we began a dialogue about sin and why Jesus had to die.

Without sharing the exact contents of this discussion, as it is her journal after all, it became clear to me that Harper does indeed have a fundamental belief in Jesus as the Son of God. Savior. As Lord? Well, I believe this belief only grows with time - the act of following Him completely with heart, soul, mind, and strength - one's whole being.

So, as communion was served that morning, Harper became frustrated when the plate wasn't offered to her.

In what can only be described as a stage whisper she said, "Mom! I believe! I believe!"

She was emphatic.

At that moment I realized that I could not see inside her heart. I could not be the judge of this statement, for we had just completed pages of Q&A about God's love for her and the ultimate sacrifice made by Jesus in order that she may spend eternity with God in heaven. I had even shared with her how the act of communion was a symbol of Jesus giving his body and blood for her.

Thus, I summoned over an elder and friend, Ray Carmichael, and shared in whispers that this would be Harper's first time taking communion.

"Harper, this is the body of Christ. Broken for you."

I helped her to answer with, "Thanks be to God."

As the juice was passed, I made sure that it was offered to my daughter.

At first, I was saddened that George was missing this very important step in Harper's spiritual development, and yet I also knew that he wouldn't have wanted us to pass up the moment just because he wasn't present.

I realize that this is just the beginning for Harper. Having taken enough courses in seminary to now be of the belief that there isn't necessarily a "sinner's prayer" or just one "moment of belief", I know that this act of faith is a first step down a long road of her faith journey.

I am thankful that God allowed me to share this special moment with her, for I too have a memory of my first communion. It is certainly not as special. What do I remember? My partner (as I took my first communion in the Catholic Church dressed as a bride and partnered with a boy in a tux) going the wrong way after taking the Host.

He blew the blocking.

And that's my memory.

Hopefully, Harper will have a different memory of her first communion. No dress. No veil. No partner. Just Jesus. And her. And Mom. Back pew.

Together.

Thank you, kind Sir!

I'm currently in a really good place.

Sure, the purge is helping. No doubt.

I'm more active.

My mind is clear.

Clarity is a great substitute for fuzziness.

I feel good. Like James Brown good.

And on Tuesday, I was just blessed. Simply put. Blessed. By random acts of kindness. Yeah, yeah, the kind that Oprah has probably gone on and on about because of some book.

I don't think we're wired for kindness.

We're wired to receive it.

But, I'll go out on a limb and say that we're not quite wired to give it. We do, of course. But more often than not, at least in my case, I tend to think about myself before I think about others. It's hard to look that truth in the face. I challenge you to stare it down.

Anyway, back to Tuesday. It's as if it was, "Show Joline a little kindness day".

On the way out of Great Harvest, which is just chock full of kindness by way of free bread slices, I ran into the father of a former student who is now, gasp, a senior at Northwestern. How can my students be graduating from college? That's another story.

Anyway, we spoke and caught up as we walked to Starbucks so I could grab some tea, and Zane some chocolate milk.

Well, this gentleman just wouldn't dream of my picking up the tab for my drinks. He purchased my tea and Zane's drink and then we walked back to our cars. It was such a "chance" meeting, as he doesn't live in Evanston, but was just down for the day visiting his daughter.

Very sweet.

I visit a great market on Dempster every week, as I just can't stand the enormity that is the Jewel or Dominicks - although I do shop there, I tend to prefer the smaller market. So Tuesday, as I was putting Zane in the car, a lovely older couple came over to the car, saw me loading all the bags and Zane into the car, and said,

"You've got your hands full. Is this your cart? Let us return it for you. You do so much."

It's the little things.

But wait! The blessings continued. Even if the next one is sure to kill me.

Out of the blue while I was making lunch, I hear the most glorious little voice, and turn to look into the most glorious blue eyes,

"Mommy, you are beautiful."

Pause.

"Are you going to cry now?"

Um, yep.

Finishing First

Harper finished her first season on a softball team by playing Aunt Liz's position: First Base.

After a few incidents of leaving the field when she missed a ball while playing other positions, the coaches did so right by my little lady, by placing her on First Base for the last game of the season. Their goal this entire season was to develop Harper's self confidence. Always encouraging, always there to give a high five or whisper words of motivation, these parents/coaches knew that showing Harper she could handle First Base was the way to end this all important season.

We had previous discussions with Harper about good sportsmanship, not abandoning one's team, overcoming obstacles (ah, what a common theme as of late), and trying her best after the game where she flew off the field in a rage upon missing catches at Third Base, so ending the season on First Base was a huge accomplishment.

Harper would now like to try tennis.

TRY.

It's humbling when a Mom realizes that she can learn a thing or two from her daughter.

TRY.

"Mom, we are so proud of you" is the sign that I came home to find on the dining room mirror after my trip to Dallas. It's still hanging there.

TRY.

I'm proud of you too girl!

Alpha One Taxi: When You Absolutely, Positively, Have To Be There In 25 Minutes

Thanks to our mechanic!

Thanks for holding on to our car for 9 whopping weeks in order to overhaul the transmission and replace our engine. Thanks for then realizing that you hadn't ordered the correct engine for our car. And thanks for making us sweat while removing our engine to repair the head gaskets as we waited anxiously to find out if the engine was even damaged. Thanks for the news that the engine was fine and for keeping the car for yet another weekend so that you could "drive it Saturday to make sure all was well". Thanks.

Thanks for being the main reason that we came so close to missing Justin's first and only Illinois concert date on Corbin Bleu's tour due to OUR CAR BREAKING DOWN IN LOMBARD.

It was God who made sure that we didn't lose ALL THE TRANSMISSION FLUID while on busy 294 and whatever exit we took that was full of construction, toll booths, and traffic. Our true and non-sarcastic thanks and praise go only to the Lord, who must have pushed our car past all that heavy traffic to the entrance of a Popeye's Chicken before I smelled the problem, felt the problem, and then experienced fuming anger as I realized that the car wasn't moving another inch.

George pushed the car into a parking space. Hood up. Transmission fluid everywhere. Transmission fluid seeping out of the car.

My heart broke. Broke. I heard myself whimper, "Is it over?"

George replied with a confident, "No!"

I exited the car and immediately called Justin, who I couldn't reach, (duh), as he was prepping to go on stage in 45 minutes.

We tried to hold it together for the kids. We called people to pray. We tried to keep the goal in mind: getting to the concert. I spotted a Midas Muffler and told George to run there as I thought they would have a listing for Taxi's.

Alpha One Taxi and Livery Inc. (630-549-3009), whose advertisement states, "We are there when you need us", came our rescue as I shared with Andreas, the owner and our driver, why getting to the Dupage County Fair by 7:00 was of the utmost importance. He hauled like any good taxi driver, even going through store parking lots when the traffic was backed up due to a freight train that decided to push my boiling point. He charged my cell phone for me during the ride, which I promptly forgot in his van. He drove BACK to our parked car after the concert to give us the cell phone AND called a towing company which he knew took AAA and credit cards.

Only AAA had already scheduled a towing company which took credit cards. Or so we thought. Surprise! While AAA insured us the company took credit, this was not the case, and thus, the tow truck driver had to take George to the ATM before dropping off the car. Elvis of Esco's Towing was really great. Guatemalan and a Christian. So George and he had a great discussion about coffee, Jesus, and Justin on the ride home. Elvis now wants me to coach his kids. Oh, Elvis. How about some Mary Kay instead?

So, thanks to our mechanic for a great night!

Yes, I got to see Justin. He was fantastic. Sure, we had to lug our car seats into the venue, barely had a moment to take it all in, missed talking to Justin at the "meet and greet" afterwards because we were figuring out the next leg of our trip, (with Justin's Dad, Avi, leading the way in rounding up New Trier kids to get us wherever we needed to go) and, thus, I didn't even see Justin standing 10 feet away from me signing t-shirts and cd's, but we were there.

We were there with his family, all his friends, and new fan's. Thank God that all of Glencoe, and almost every kid I'd ever coached was is attendance, as we needed them at that moment, just as they've needed me over the years. Marcie, Justin's mom, loaded us up with a t-shirt and 4 CD's. Another Mom bought the kids glow necklaces. The McDonough's drove us back to the car and then took me and the kids home. I even met the Artistic Director of Writer's Theater in Glencoe who gave me his card and told me to call him for tickets to A Lion in Winter, which just happens to be one of George's favorite plays.

But the best part was when I opened Justin's CD to read the liner notes:

Joline, 13 years! I can't begin to express what you mean to me, and I wouldn't be who I am on stage or off without your years of direction.

And then, the floodgates opened. Every emotion I'd been holding in throughout the evening burst open. It was then that I realized that while I had physically attended the concert, a piece of me had missed it.

We spoke around midnight. I could hear excitement and fun in the background. The gist went something like this.

"Joline! Where were you! I didn't see you!"

"You didn't get my message, did you? You were brilliant!"

I told him what had happened.

"Are you ok? Did Harper and Zane like it? Oh no, my cell phone is dying. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Ok. Have fun!"

That's ok if he doesn't. He sounded like he was having an incredible time. It was just good to talk to him and insure him that I was indeed there. I wouldn't have missed it. I couldn't have missed it. I will relish in the fact that while my brain was tied up in the events of the evening, I was still in attendance, row H, watching 13 years of coaching sing and dance across a stage in front of adoring fans.

$22 cab fare and a well deserved $10 tip. $3.00 pretzel. $3.00 corndog. $4.00 for root beers. $6.00 for ice cream. $10.00 Corbin Blue "dogtag" necklace for Harper. $3.00 tip (and a Justin Stein CD) to Andreas for returning with my phone. $70 tow.

Seeing Justin in his ultimate element.

Priceless.

Well, If Your Pastor Suggests It . . .

This caption is a bit misleading. We tried something a little different tonight, which, in the future, could actually entice the kids to hit the hay with a bit less of a struggle. I wouldn't necessarily call it stupid, as the idea was actually shared with us by our Pastor who also used this trick with his kids when they were younger. And I certainly wouldn't call him stupid.

Ok, now that we've gotten that out of the way . . . the part where I announce that I don't think my Pastor is stupid . . . we can get on with it.

Tonight, we implemented PAJAMA RIDE!

What is it you ask? Ha! That was the same thing the kids were yelling through their giggles as we rushed them into the car, shoeless and in their pajamas, after startling them out of their bedrooms at 9:30 tonight while making a New Year's racket with wooden spoons on stainless steel saucepans as we joyfully hooted and hollered, "Wake up! It's PAJAMA RIDE time. Everyone out of bed! Get in the car! WHOOOOO!"

Zane popped up in his crib, beaming, as George entered his room, "Daddy! You are waking me up? What are we doing?"

Harper flew open her door and just stared at us with those huge eyes of hers while her mouth hung open in disbelief.

After all the enthusiasm of rushing them down the stairs and outside to the car, we had to pause while the genius that I returned inside to locate the car key . . . but after this little stumble, all went smoothly.

Come on, it was our first time. We're still working out the kinks.

They laughed through their questions as to where we were going, and why we were out so late, and what PAJAMA RIDE was. We just kept yelling, "It's PAJAMA TIME! WHOOOOOOO!"

And then we pulled up to McDonald's, ordered them vanilla shakes and small fries, and became the best parents on the planet for at least 30 minutes.

Harper responded with her usual, "This is crazy! You two are crazy heads! This is awesome!"

Zane just kept saying that he wanted to always have PAJAMA RIDE time, which seems about right as the kid would live in pajamas if he could. Seriously, pajamas are his very favorite choice of clothing. Today alone he wore three different pairs.

Upon returning home, Harper and I sat on her bed, sharing fries, while taking turns asking each other secret questions. The particulars of those questions and answers will remain between me and my girl. Sorry.

As I tucked her in, we kissed and hugged and then she threw herself into my lap. Actually threw herself into my lap for a bear hug. She then asked when we would have our next PAJAMA RIDE.

"Harps, you will never know. It could happen in 10 minutes for all you know. But, you'll never know if you don't go to bed. That's the key to unlocking the surprise."

D*&^! I AM GOOD!

So, thanks, Pastor Dave. And feel free to send more stupid parenting tricks our way. For if a PAJAMA RIDE falls into the category of a stupid parenting trick, then I say, "Stupid is as stupid does."

I'm with you, Dave.

Oh, and you should know that we also like what you teach us about Jesus.

And that most certainly isn't stupid. In fact, I happen to think that Jesus had a really fun time on the PAJAMA RIDE. Although it wasn't His first. He's been on these before, with your family.

We'll be honored to carry on the tradition.

Unblocked

It's July 16th.

On July 1, I lost it and banned the kids from television.

On July 2, I was worried that I'd completely lost my mind. I knew I had made the right call, but I was plenty nervous about holding my ground. I called my parents to tell them of the ban, as they were on their way here for 5 days. They were completely supportive. We were so busy during their visit that we didn't need the television.

It's now July 16th and I couldn't be more pleased with the decision.

It took two weeks of reprogramming, but Harper and Zane are now hitting their chores without complaining. Sure, there is a bit of a whine, but it hardly resembles the former tantrums that erupted when Harper, specifically, was asked to straighten her room. In fact, yesterday, when I asked her to clean her room, she disappeared. Upon checking up on her, I found hanging in her clean bedroom.

"Um, Harper, don't you think you are forgetting something", I teased.

"Mom. I put my clothes in the hamper and straightened my books and bed."

"Yes, but your forgot to complain about it."

She cracked a giggle, but I think she was secretly irritated with my humor.

Oh, and did I mentioned that Zane hasn't asked for television even once? Not once.

Harper is a different story, but we've made an agreement that she can earn television for special movie nights or 30 minutes of Hannah Montana or That's So Raven, (which, I, um, love), here and there.

So, proudly, I announce, that since July 1, Harper and Zane have only watched one episode of Hannah, one of Raven, and earned "The Wizard of Oz". And this was a sacrifice on Harper's part as she wanted to watch "Jump In", (she's in a boxing phase), but chose to go with Zane's choice since I had a client upstairs and he was so very loudly expressing his disappointment over the possibility of watching Corbin Bleu again. (Let's just mention right here, that the kids may get the opportunity to meet him next week when Justin opens for him in concert!) Compare this to the 1.5 hrs they used to watch daily, and we're all celebrating this accomplishment and are definitely reaping the benefits.

For example, Zane built the most awesome structures tonight with his blocks while Harper read us a chapter of a Magic Treehouse book. In the middle of the chapter she stopped and screamed, "Oh! This is just so exciting!" Zane, listened as he built robots and, get this, the Stone Table from The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe, which he then cleverly "split" when "As-a-lan" (as he pronounces the lion) rose from the dead.

All of this came after a visit to the pool, which we were able to take in before the thunderstorm hit. Harper met up with Maya, Zane with Maya's brother Alex, me with their mom, who I really enjoy, and George with the kids. He's amazing. He deserves a post. Very soon.

We've been more active. The kids have taken to having more responsibility, even going above and beyond their lists at times, for which I reward with precious parking meter money. And most importantly, their responses to us have been so much more positive.

We'll keep it up. We'll save the television for family movie nights, or when Justin finally makes his debut on the Disney Channel. But until then, I'll continue my fascinating conversations with Zane about what gifts Father Christmas brought Peter, Susan, and Lucy and why Edmund didn't receive one, and will attempt to keep my little softball throwing, rugby playin', tennis ball hittin', gymnastic tumblin', swimmer, well fed through all her summer activities.

And sure, I'll also hop on the couch and laugh with her during That's So Raven. After all, if we just run this joint like Jamestown, "If you don't contribute, you don't get television", we should be solid.

Right Field

From "Right Field" by Peter Paul and Mary
(Italicized comments are mine. All mine.)



Off in the distance, the game's dragging on,
Because in this league, the pitcher just keeps on going until the batter manages to hit the ball.

There's strikes on the batter, some runners are on,
No strikes allowed in this league, but yes, runner's have managed to get on base.

I don't know the inning, I've forgotten the score.
Third inning. There are only three. No score-keeping. But . . . we are crushing them.

The whole team is yelling and I don't know what for,
Harper is too busy playing "Opposite Day" with Lucy and telling her that she smells, which isn't true, but rather the opposite of the truth, as it is Opposite Day. Get it? So she can't even hear the yelling from the stands.

Suddenly everyone's looking at me,
Yep.

My mind has been wandering, what could it be?
Well, considering that Harper's focus med's wore off about 2 hours ago, it's no wonder that she's out there dancing and groovin' in right field.

They point to the sky and I look up above,
In this case, we point to the ground, and she squats down.

And the baseball falls into my glove!
Harper shuffles a bit to land the ball in her glove!

And there you have it. The one, true, error-free play of the Orange Tiger's season. Made by Harper.

And while it wasn't a pop fly to Right Field, it did indeed make a course straight for Harper, and she responded by fielding it with ease. Crouched low, she caught the grounder, and then hurled it to First. Batter was out at First.

The crowd went wild.

Basically, because up until yesterday, we'd yet to see a "play" of any kind.

This was quite a different game than Harper's last when upon missing a few catches at Third Base she stormed off the field refusing to return.

After a long talk about sportsmanship, teamwork, and not abandoning one's teammates, we told Harper that she was not allowed to just pick and choose which portions of the game she would play, and thus, if she abandoned her team again in a fit of frustration, she would sit out the batting order.

Or, she could play the entire game and we would celebrate with Steak and Shake.

Guess which choice won.

And may I also add, that upon getting out a First, (deja vu from two games ago when Harper was tagged out 3 times in a row due to batting line drives directly to First Base . . . and consequently losing it after each one), Harper left the field without incident, glancing over at us to make sure we were watching her cool as a cucumber reaction as she returned the dugout.

Awesome game.

Awesome growth.

Awesome girl.

Nudge, Nudge

How must I show responsibility in my family?
Does my lack of acting responsibly affect those in my family?
Does God call me to model responsibility?

My need to reflect upon this word and my relationship with responsibility is due, in part, to a situation that occured this morning when Zane woke up. Out of the crib he climbed and immediately turned and yelled in my face, "Mommy! Clean up my room!"

Um, I don't think so.

However, as much as I wanted to tell him to put a lid on it, I secretly wondered if I had somehow played a role in his behavior. After all, my room is a complete mess most of the time, and yet, I am always asking my children to clean up. And it's not as if I have assigned specific chores for Zane (other than helping to put the toys away downstairs), nor have I had the mental or physical fortitude to tackle the idea of family chores over the past few months. The mere thought of implementing a new "plan" or "routine" just fatigues me.

And yet, this does him no good. It does no good to say "Clean up!" when I'm not modeling the behavior myself, and it does no good to avoid putting some schedule in place to help facilitate a daily habit of responsibilities for all the members of this family.

Matthew 25:21 says
“The master was full of praise. ‘Well done, my good and faithful servant. You have been faithful in handling this small amount, so now I will give you many more responsibilities. Let’s celebrate together! (NLT)

While I've not worked all of this out in my head or heart yet, I do know that one of the ways I feel compelled to pray for my family is in the area of our faithfulness in handling "small amounts" (or "few things" in the NIV, NAS). God has given us so many wonderful "small amounts" and He's given us the tools to use them wisely. Have we?

I've come to the conclusion that perhaps we can not get out of this overwhelming pit where we are constantly trying to play catch up in our home because we are indeed NOT being faithful in the small amounts that God asks us to tend to every day. This doesn't mean that I am leaning towards a legalistic or rigid plan of attack. I am leaning towards finding the CELEBRATION that God speak of in this verse. Where's the party????? How do we develop a spirit of sanctuary and celebration in our home?

I believe, that until we dig out (as right now the small amounts are in piles all over the place) and actually handle and take responsibility for the small daily things, we will not experience a CELEBRATION. And for sure, we won't be given any larger responsibilities that could benefit our family.

This is just the beginning of a prayerful thought process based upon some nudgings I've been getting from the Lord.

Ah, I love a good nudge. Don't you?