Thankful Thursdays 6/9/2011 better late than never

435 Dale Chihuly exhibit

436 art museums in general
437 hilarious texts from friends while shopping for bachelorette items

438 spending an evening with great friends

439 sobriety for people I care about
440 having the time to help Arwen with last minute wedding details
441 a day at the beach with a friend

442 physical and emotional healing for members of my family
443 talking on the phone with people who make me laugh
444 inspiring books
445 Special Olympics
446 dinner with my cousin

447 friends with whom I can have a good, edifying conversations
448 good times celebrating Arwen's upcoming wedding

449 meeting people in real life that I have known on facebook for a long time
450 running
451 Boston during the Stanley Cup

452 canolis from Mike's

453 meeting former student athletes who have gone on to do amazing and important things with their lives
454 a moment to remember people who are no longer with us, who meant a lot to my family when they were here

455 ice cream from the dairy bar
456 the town crier

457 walking the streets of Portsmouth knowing not much has changed in hundreds of years

458 Red Sox ice cream

459 the Wildcat

Thankful Thursdays 6/2/2011

413 Swimming with the niece and nephew

414 watching the niece and nephew open birthday presents

415 having things in common with people I didn't think I have much in common with
416 early morning peaceful run around a little lake
417 the niece murmuring in her sleep, HILARIOUS
418 perspective
419 sushi many days this week
420 a great day with my cousin and her family
421 that my uncle is doing so well after a really terrible health crisis this year
422 ice cream from Sully's
423 dunkin donuts coffee
424 the lense on my phone that take alien photos

425 being on vacation
426 totally random side trips

427 spaghetti with the fam
428 spraining my ankle while running at my aunties, happens every time
429 hanging out with nana
430 seeing Nana interact with people where she lives
431 endless rocks
432 flying monkeys
433 my cousin sounding so upbeat on the phone, can't wait to see him
434 that my brother and his family are fine after tornadoes whipped through their town

Thankful Thursdays 5/27/2011

391 Friends who want to camp out
392 falling asleep to the sound of cicadas
393 finding another awesome place to watch the sunset
394 kindergarteners
395 coworkers who care about each other enough that they get emotional at going away parties
396 an awesome Sunday night concert at church
397 answered prayers after a really long time
398 packing
399 finishing up everything at work that needs to be done before vacation
400 heading out of town before the storms rolled in
401 generous people who let me stay overnight while they are away
402 neighbors who stop by to check on me
403 awkward moments with single guys in their mid 20s
404 time alone with the Lord while driving
405 West Virginia mountains
406 West Virginia rest areas
407 hanging out with a friend in Philly
408 Pei Wei
409 Rita's Water ice

410 target
411 double coupons
412 great gas mileage

She Wanted a Truck

Back in the fall of 2000 my parents were in the United States visiting, I was a sophmore in college, and it was determined that it was time for me to purchase my first car.
What I really wanted was a purple Toyota Tacoma.
I had a list of reasons why the truck would be an awesome vehicle for me.

What my parents determined was best for me was a Ford Contour, I could choose either red or white.
They had a list of reasons why the four door car thing would be a good fit.

They being the people in control of my bank account, the one I was forced to put 50% of my allowance (a whole 10 SR, or about $3) every week into for all of my growing up, had the final say.

A red Ford Contour is what I drove back to campus in.

That red Ford Contour was a great car, and I drove it for a long time. Eleven whole years actually.

I drove it an innumerable number of times up north to Rumney in college.

My mom, brother, and I road tripped in the Ford Contour to look at colleges for him and visit DC and NYC the summer before 9/11. My brother and I got lost on the wrong side of the Potomac while trying to park it after dropping Mom off at the Holocaust museum, then we valet parked it in a sketch parking garage and didn't tell Mom. It was hard to explain when we had to ask a guy for our keys afterward.

I took lots of trips to retreats, the mountains, and beach in college with her.

My younger brother borrowed her many times his freshman, my senior year of college, returning her with signs that said things like "Go immediately to the gas station, I've been driving with the empty light on for about 25 miles."

After my college graduation we road tripped it out to Michigan. The trusty Ford Contour got me through grad school with little more needs than an occasional oil change. And of course gas to get me back and forth to work.

At the end of grad school we road tripped again, out to Minnesota to visit my cousins. It was just me and Connie through northern Michigan.

I got my first ticket in her. One for speeding my 2nd year of grad school. And one for following to closely on my way back from Minnesota.

Then at the end of June of that summer we road tripped it down to Kentucky for my new big girl job.

In Kentucky Connie started to require a little more maintenance. First she needed a new timing belt.

Then the air conditioning wasn't working.

She started acting funny. But she still got great gas mileage. And she was completely paid for. I kept driving her. People started to make fun of Connie, she was getting old and wrinkly really.

Then came the eggings.

Occasionally over the years there were times when I would think "it really would be nice if I had a truck, like all the times I moved in and out of dorms and apartments when my parents were 7 timezones away.

Or when I was going on camping trips with friends and we had gear. Or when I bought a new tv with my roommate and we were trying to shove it in a little four door car and had to take it out of the box to make it fit.

Here she is were we parked her before the infamous LBL hiking adventure

But for the most part Connie served me well, and I drove the life out of her.

So after the eggings stopped, it was determined that a new vehicle was in store for me.

I took two last road trips in Connie, one to meet my Mom in Fort Wayne, IN, and one to meet my parents in Branson, MO. Both times I was concerned that she would be able to make it through the trip without breaking down. She did, just barely. It was time for her to retire.

This time, I wasn't relenting, I was getting a truck, maybe not a purple one, but a truck none the less. After doing a little research, I determined that I had been right all along. In fact the Toyota tacoma gets about the same gas mileage as my dear contour got.

I talked it through with my dad, and he was all for it.

Mom on the other hand had a lot of concerns. I'm still not really sure why exactly. My favorite one was that if I got married and had kids, I wouldn't be able to haul them around with a truck. Jokes on her because my truck actually has a special hook thing for car seats which straps it to the frame, safer than buckling it into a minivan. And um, I haven't used it, because, well, I'm not married, and I don't have kids. But if that ever changes, don't worry, I'm ready, or at least my vehicle is.

Anyway, since I got my truck I have done a lot of hauling.

And each time I feel the need to take photos. I don't know why.

This is the first time I hauled stuff. Water and Gatorade for work. Made the task much easier.

This was on a recent trip to meet my mom, and transfer some furniture of my grandmother's including a table and chairs, as well as some china. This wasn't the final packing job, but you get the idea.

Here is the back of my truck filled with wood after the recent storm.

The truck, which doesn't have a name yet, I'm thinking Beloved, is about to take it's maiden voyage long road trip. We are headed all the way up to Rumney (with many stops along the way) and then we are bringing back my grandmother's dresser. Yup, definitely couldn't do that with Connie.

Thankful Thursdays 5/19/2011

376 jock jams blaring in the weight room
377 low key weekend reading good books
378 getting to know some people at church a bit better
379 kindergarten Sunday school
380 impromptu dinner with friends
381 a lovely evening walk
382 catching up with Christi
383 insightful conversations
384 speaking and hearing truth in love
385 summer hours
386 camping trip planning
387 a good run (I know I say this a lot)
388 the bridesmaid dress finally coming
389 the bridesmaid dress only needing hemming and not major alterations
390 free firewood

Thankful Thursdays 5/12/2011

355 Amazing weather for the conference track meet
356 watching an athlete who worked really hard to come back from an injury succeed
357 old friends in town visiting
358 a good nap after a long day
359 cooking out with coworkers after a long weekend of work

360 good conversation
361 campfire

362 s'mores
363 Mexican strawberry marshmellows
364 enough open space to see the stars
365 celebrating our student athletes
366 seeing seniors who were once freshman getting ready to graduate
367 hauling wood in my truck

368 being able to help out my co-worker and my neighbor at the same time
369 farm eggs

370 higher yardage than I've done in years
371 a really fast run
372 talking with a former student athlete about career plans
373 consistent time in God's Word
374 being paired to teach Sunday school with someone I've been wanting to get to know better
375 a lunch break at Pedlar's Mall, everyone needs an occasionally lunch break trip there

Why I Love to SWIM!

I've heard the story so many times that sometimes I actually think I remember it happening. My older brother was on swim team and I as the younger sister wanted to do everything he did. My dad was helping out with his age group, and so every afternoon, I went to the pool with my dad and brother and played while some 8th or 9th graders watched me. I kept telling my parents that I wanted to be on the team. Finally one day they told me I could join the team when I could swim the length of the pool. What my parents didn't realize was that I could almost do it already.

Most of my childhood memories involve the pool, whether it be swim practice, candy bar relays on Wednesday nights, meets on Thursdays, or just hanging around during intersession, my friends and I were always at the pool.

I remember the first time I ever did a flip turn, I was about 5 or 6, it was in the fall and a cold night. We only had outdoor pools. I was swimming with the older kids because there weren't many younger kids who swam in the fall. I had been trying and trying for several days and finally, I did it, I remember Mr Boudreau getting so excited, and some of the older kids too. I was so proud of myself.

Swimming was something I was pretty successful at.

I remember in the second grade we were doing a drill called block busters when I dove in, my thumb got caught in someone else's suit straps, and it was dislocated. I remember that it didn't really hurt, it just looked really weird. My brother road his bike two blocks home to get my dad, who raced in the suburban to get me, and take me to the emergency room. I remember the ambulance ride to Dhahran because they couldn't reduce it in RT. I remember siting in my swimsuit freezing and begging for a fiberglass cast, so I could still swim.

Two weeks later I was granted my wish, a fiberglass cast it was, and patiently my mom used an air compressor and hair dryer to dry it out every night after practice.

My mom loves to tell the story of the day I was swimming at the national meet, I had already swam in the regionals and qualified for nationals, cast and all. I was up on the starting blocks and some lady in the stands said "look at that poor girl, her parents are making her swim with a cast on."
My mom replied "Don't kid yourself, if I had it my way she would not be up there, and I would not be spending every evening trying to dry that thing out."

At the end of the spring season, we always had the "fun meet" where we did all sorts of fun relays.

I think we were trying to hop down the pool and try to keep the hat dry.

The older kids had to push a watermelon covered in Crisco down the pool

I know that there are some horrible coaches in this world, I have seen some in action, but for the most part, I was blessed with some awesome swim coaches who encouraged me to push myself. They spent countless hours working on timing sheets for meets, setting up for meets, coaching us as we swam. I am so grateful for all the time and energy they expended on me and my teammates.

During the 1st Gulf War, otherwise known as Desert Storm, swimming was actually the only thing that was a constant in my brothers and my life.

By the time I was in about the 7th or 8th grade we occasionally did doubles, swimming in the morning before school, and again in the evening.

When I went off to boarding school and everything was new and different and I was on my own as a 15 year-old, again, swimming was my constant.


In high school doubles weren't really occasional anymore and I am pretty sure that there were times when I wasn't actually awake.

And yes it's true, that after a lot of daring and joking from my high school coach, I did in fact shave my head.

It grew back, and I can now cross that off my bucket list.

After high school I decided to take a break from swimming. What I thought would be a short year or two break turned into ten, and then last spring I started swimming again with a local triathlon club.

And I was reminded of the peace I experience as I put my head down and go, back and forth, back and forth. One of the things I really love about swimming is that I get to spend time alone in my thoughts. Swimming is relatively mindless for me, I don't have to pay attention to much. There is no one yelling my name, or asking for this or that, or trying to talk to me about something. Or if they are, I can't hear them.

Everybody

Needs

To be alone

in their thoughts

sometimes

He Arose!

I was reading a blog post by Ann Voskamp about tomb-centered Christianity and I was struck with this thought, am I living my life in light of His death for my sin, or am I living life in light of the empty tomb?

And what exactly does it mean to live life in light of Jesus, who victoriously conquered death?
I mean what does that look like?

Does it mean that we run around all happy and bubbly all the time?
The reality is that life is hard sometimes. It's not all happy and bubbly all the time. Even though I a living a redeemed life, it's still hard sometimes. There are still heart breaking things that each of us walk through.

Just ask my friends Mike and Becka they have walked through really hard times, and are still walking through really hard times. I'm pretty sure that there are days they don't feel like lifting their hands to the heavens and praising God.
I'm sure that they are not dancing around like this.


At times I want to, and maybe I do dance around like that. And what a cool thing, and so many shoes for people in need.

But as we walk through the everyday humdrum, and the heartaches and hard times, I don't know about you, but I'm not dancing my shoes off.

Recently I read a book by Mary Beth Chapman, called Choosing to See, I'll let her explain it herself.


I have been reading through the Gospels over the last several months. I am in the book of Luke right now. I have been struck in a new way with the reality of the resurrection. Sometimes I hear stories so many times that they become mundane to me, I've heard the Easter story yearly, for my entire life. It has been refreshing as I have read through the 4 accounts recorded in scripture to not so much focus on the crucifixion, but instead to focus on the resurrection. Don't get me wrong, the crucifixion is clearly an important and integral part of the story, but so is the part about the Risen Lord.

So what I am wrestling with is this: what does it mean and look like to live life in light of the empty tomb?

Thankful Thursdays 5/5/2011

Some thanks on Cinco De Mayo

327 a productive day
328 power being restored

329 my air filter that helps me breath (and doesn't run without power)
330 a clean fridge

331 memories of our houseboy Maurti, who was basically part of our family for most of my childhood
332 a swim with the swim bike runners
333 getting to prepare a video for our graduating seniors
334 not loosing all of the food that was in my freezer during the power outage
335 Arwen's wedding invite in the mail
336 a great night of movie watching with friends
337 last official workouts of the semester, YAY summer is right around the corner!
338 a word of encouragement from a friend
339 conviction
340 grace
341 countdown to vacation
342 a raining Sunday in bed reading
343 celebrating our seniors
344 sunny days
345 comfortable running shoes
346 fresh mango
347 laughter
348 Brady in the mud
349 time alone in God's Word
350 iced coffee creation at home
351 a peaceful evening run
352 vacation plans coming together
353 a good chat with a down the street neighbor
354 long yardage days.

Save The Males

There is this one scene in the movie Bridget Jones Diary, after she has been arrested for carrying a large stash of drugs for a friend's boyfriend, that makes me laugh. Bridget Jones is sitting in jail, surrounded by whole bunch of Thai women.

One of the them asks her why she is so sad, the following dialogue ensues

What is wrong?

Bridget: Mark Darcy definitely...
...doesn't love me anymore.

Thai girls: Ohhh.

Bridget:You see the trouble is it was me who chucked him.

Thai girl 1: He treat you bad?

Bridget: Yeah, actually, he did.

Thai girl 1: My boyfriend treat me bad too.

Thai girl 2:- Me too.
Thai girl 3: Mine as well

Bridget: Then you know all about it. You think you've found the right man, but then there's so much wrong with him and he finds there's so much wrong with you and it all just falls apart.

Thai girl 1:Don't tell me. My boyfriend, he seem really nice. Then he start to hit me. Make me work on street.

Thai girl 2:My boyfriend, he say he love me but he do no work, and make me work 20 hour a day. Then he make me take heroin drug.

Thai girl 3: What about you, Bijjit? What your bad boyfriend do?

Bridget: Well, er,...he really didn't stick up for me at this lawyers' supper,... and, um, then he would fold his... Oh, same sort of thing, really.

It's as if all of a sudden the light bulb goes off in her head and Bridget realizes that her "bad boyfriend" wasn't such a bad guy after all.

I think I need to preface what I am about to say next with a disclaimer. There are some men in this world that truly have problems, who are unhealthy people, who abuse women in a variety of different ways. This is not the kind of men I am talking about.

I think sometimes we are all guilty of similar behavior. We sit around complaining about various and assorted men in our lives.

I've been in groups of single women, where we sit around and bash the single men we know. We come up with a variety of reasons they are terrible. I have at times participated, I am not proud of this fact.
We say things like...
"They are selfish"
"They send mixed signals"
"They don't dress well"
"They are loud and pesky"
"They are to quiet..."

I have been in groups of married women who do the same thing.
"My husband works too much"
"My husband doesn't make enough money"
"He doesn't tell me nice things the moment he walks in the door everyday"
"He hasn't gotten to the end of my 73 item to do list this weekend"
"His mom is annoying..."

What I've come to realize is that the man bashing really says more about the women complaining than it does about the men.

What it says about the women, is that they are choosing to view the men in their lives based on the men's ability to fulfill ALL of their needs, which ultimately is impossible for them to do. It also says that the women are choosing not to see the men as God's creations, His precious children.

Sometimes I feel like we women can't make up our minds. Recently I was having a conversation with some friends about what it means to be a gentleman. I found it interesting, because so many single women I know say all the time "where are all the gentlemen?" But then the moment a guy holds the door open, or offers to carry something, we say things like "what, does he think I am weak? Does he think I can't do it myself?"

Partly this is a regional phenomenon. Moving to Kentucky from the North and Northeast has radically changed my view on this. I remember when I first moved here, having to get used to allowing men to open the door for me. Now, when I am visiting the Northeast, I find myself standing there, with a group of people behind me, watching for the door to magically open. I am so used to not opening doors when there are men around, even if they are strangers, that it creates a quite comical scene when I am in places like New Hampshire.

Ultimately my point is this. There are a lot of great men out there, who love the Lord. There are a lot of married men that love their families, who are trying hard to follow Him, provide for their families, lead their families. There are a lot of single guys who are doing their best to be good brothers in Christ to the single women in their lives.

I think sometimes we women need to pray for them instead of complain about them, and cut them a little slack.