There is more...

Well I finished. My official time was 1:57:52. Two full minutes under goal time. There is more of a story to it and if I cared enough I would maybe spend the time it needs to write it like an adventure. I cried at the finish line and the last five minutes of the race are burned into my memory forever, some day that first race will prove to have taught me something and when it's valuable I will tell the story.

But for now there is something more important. My God and what it feels like to me to walk away from him. Months ago I found myself in what I later recanted as an undue fear. I spent many months of my summer and early fall sucking the life out of most moments, feeling everything deeply, laughing loudly, crying hard and depositing everything into my heart and mind as a time in my life like I have not known. I lived for the moment, confidant to stay there and enjoy it as it came. As dark came earlier in my days, a familiar and evil poison began to fill the hallways in my home and in my heart. I closed my ears and the eyes of my heart. Transitioning into a new job where my skin must get thicker and thicker everyday I find every excuse to block out my heart and my mind from the sweet, small voice of the one who offers me REAL life.

I find an uncaring discontentment amidst what can only be called peace in most areas of my life. Nothing makes me happy, fear creeps in places where it does not belong, areas of anger and depression creep up in the most inconvenient places and choke out the joy and the life of my days.

Where someone that I love has named their current journey rebellion, I don't know what to call mine other than defeat. I find fear in the ways that He no longer offers contentment and joy. He does not bring smiles or raise hands. I struggle to find ways to make myself beneficial, worth-while, beautiful without Him but I come up empty. I struggle; without Him I can't love and you can't love me. Without Him, I really have nothing left.

Why would I want to live like this? I don't think I do anymore. This morning I could not sleep so I finally pulled myself out of bed an hour before the alarm and did my morning routine leaving me with plenty of time to sit in front of the fire and read with a cup of coffee. Not that I'm reading anything that will effect eternity but it was better in my mind than facebook. I decided I'd try to make some small change so I turned the radio on and away from the radio station it's found itself on lately. I curled into my corner with the dog and tried reading. But I couldn't' fully commit my mind to the words, it kept straying to the music, the words, the comfort of songs I've known, heard, sang, cried, laughed, danced to for the past 25 years. I was aware of a very real pain creeping in the underside of my stomach as I let His worship wash over me. Where I could've given over to it, allowed myself to crumple in a pile or tears and sobs and begging and repenting and rending, I didn't. I stopped for a while, I put my book down and came here to try to get it all out. I don't know if I won't give over to it because I know that I have to be to work soon and having to redo my makeup and outfit and clean up after myself would be impossible, I don't know if I held back because I really am livingg in the rebellion that I see, I don't know if I won't give myself over to Him because I'm scared that I've walked to far and His love can't reach me. I don't know why I couldn't give myself over to Him today but I suppose that feeling His touch in my heart and the distraction is was to trying to read, the pain in knowing and admitting that I've walked away from the fold of His heart, I suppose that would be the first small ray of heat to the frost that has chilled my heart.

I have known this place before. In 2007 I found myself in a place of apathy in my relationship with Him. I knew if something did not change the frost would turn to ice and I would never break free. If something didn't shake me in 2007, I knew my life would never change. For me, in 2007 it was YWAM and leaving and having to find myself and my own journey. (On which and of which I failed miserably). I will be honest when I say I don't want to do something like that again, I don't want to leave, nor do I honestly believe it's something God would call me to again. (But lets me honest, I'm not really in a listening and doing mood am I?) I've struggled a lot this year in how I view life and relationships. I went from being and allowing myself to be affected by everyone I am in relationship with and thinking that was how life was meant to be lived out; intense and with a lot of emotion. Bouncy, bubbly, busy I ran from thing to thing to thing to keep my mind busy and my heart from experiencing my dissatisfaction and pain with where I find myself on this side of 25. At some point in the summer I hit a wall or a turning point or some major change and found myself adopting the principal that life is all one big game, to survive play smart and play hard but play and be in control. I pulled myself out of most friendships that I had and had worked hard to maintain to take time to invest in the ones that I was absolutely sure about, I took time to transition well into a new job, a new season, an attempt at dealing with the pain of school and debt, long distance relationships and major changes in long and accepted ways of life for me. I have spent time re-prioritizing my time, my relationships, the things in life that I deem important. I have spent countless hours, days and sleepless nights trying to restrain, regain, and control my heart and mind and the things that effect it. I've tried my hand at making my own decisions and trying new things. I don't know what is going to change 2010 the way that 2007 was changed. I don't know if it's fair for me to struggle again, so soon.

But for me, to feel Him, even in the pain, the arrogance, the rebellion, the fear, the apathy for Him to meet me there this morning...It was something. I don't know what it was. It was a candle flicker in a long, dark tunnel right now. It was a flicker that maybe there is hope. That maybe He will meet me in the muck and disappointment of this life and replace it with something...else.

Sometimes the only prayer that I've been able to prayer lately is that He would protect the little ones, that I would have the strength to walk this with these kids, that He would protect your heart and your mind, that He would meet you where you are, that He would protect our relationship as we each walk our own dark season. But today, this morning I pray that He would give me the strength to see that the Spring is coming. (Which is ironic because in the analogy, our Spring would actually be winter since I'm a snow...never mind.) I pray that moments like this morning would continue to intrude my life and my plans until I find myself full surrendered in His arms again. I'm leaving the radio on even after I leave for work. The dog will like it and I want His name pouring into all the rooms of this home. I'm not sure what I can do, how to walk this out but I'm still pretty dang sure of what His name can do.

And maybe tomorrow I will get another flicker.

Night before...

In less then 12 hours I hope to be done with it. If I can hit my goal time I will be done with this race in 12 hours from now.

I'm nervous. Thoughts like what if I don't have it in me, what if I don't have what it takes, what if the desire to quit overrides the desire to finish?

I think I got most nervous when I went downtown to pick up my packet. Seeing my name on a bib that says "10 mile". It looks so big written down. I also to glimpse the finishers medal. So much of me is fighting for that medal. I've never had won. I've never won anything. The fear and not quite understand truly how much pain I will be in, in only a few hours are still outweighed right now by the desire to have that medal around my neck. To show up at the parade and show my little niece what her Auntie has done.

I want to do this thing. I really, really, really want to finish this. In under two hours. :)

6 days and counting...

Today is Monday, Saturday I race.

I signed up for a facebook app that will update my fcebook as I cross each mile marker so my family, friends and fans can follow my progress through the miles. Read: I added a pointless piece of crap to my facebook page so for a few minutes of my day I can believe that someone out there cares whether or not I finish this thing.

I just told my Mom I am taking her to Disney World for Christmas. Well not for Christmas, for the Disney Princess Half Marathon  in Feburary. There is no going back now, I'm going to run a marathon in my 26th year!!

I say publically that I don't care whether or not anyone is at the finish, at this point in my training and my week I just want the thing to be over. I just want to be done training, done fantasizing, done with this thing. I'm scared, I'm wondering now if I really have what it takes to finish this thing. I have not lost any weight, in fact I think I might be doing the oppisite, is it possible that while I've been working out like a crazy person I've actually been gaining weight and that my face looks puffy?

I'ts convienrent for my training that I'm hurting tonight. That silly kind of hurt that you would never admit to publically because it would just reveal how pathetic you are. That kind of hurt. That makes you cry when you are alone in your car but swear your ok when someone texts you? The kind of hurt that makes you listen to smutty rap music and run hard and fast, happy that the weights are your ankles are cutting holes into your feet? Yea, I'm there tonight. Aware that I'm fully PMS-ing but still aware that your heart stings for good reason? I run harder on those nights. I care less about how much it hurts. I wonder if I can hold onto that until Saturday? If that can be enough to push me 10 miles...

I bought new running shoes. They are my dream shoes in the wrong color. I love them.

Do I care?

I have been away from the blog for a few days. I've also been away from my neurotic ways of working and eating. I've still been at the gym busting ass but I have started to feel the effects. I'm trying in my ignorant ways to keep myself at the pace I'm going but not allow the pains and old injuries to turn into something that actually stops me from doing what I need to do.

Finish that race in under 2 hours.

I'm starting to get scared that might not happen. I'm wondering if my pace is upping quick enough, if my mileage is upping soon enough. If I care enough.

I was out of town with the Jr. Highers this week. Staying in the moment and investing in kids that do life better than me. I love those kids. I love talking to them because I actually believe what I say sometimes. It's been what feels like a lifetime since the last time I was here, a lot has happened in that time and I feel like I have been there now. Like I've been into the throne room of Christ, I've seen His face and felt His touch. And I'm so convinced that it was real that I have something to give them. I have the scent of Him on me sometimes.

I went to a friends softball game last night. Got a little goofy and liked an excuse to keep myself in the moment and not worry about the things that surround me. I find myself holding my breath still, waiting for my life.

I started daydreaming about the finish line today. I was driving to my Mom's and started thinking about what it would feel like to see it in my sights, to summon the strength to break into that last sprint, to look over and see Izze, Jenny, my Mom cheering me on. I was not scared today, I'm not scared that I won't make it, I'm not scared that odds are none of those ladies will be at the finish line, I'm not scared that the clock is going to say 2.20 when I'm coming in. I'm scared because I really didn't care if that is reality. I was scared because I don't know if I care anymore.

No going back now.

This morning I registered for the race...

This afternoon I don't know how smart of an idea that is. My morning workout went as well as I expected it to. Another 3 miles straight which was another small success. (This morning thou I did sweat and as much as I tried could not barter the adult part of myself out of a shower).

My workday was evidence enough that my afternoon at the gym was going to be interesting. Twice I had to break a preschooler. (I will take him on a "motor break" when he starts getting overly antsy in class and is nearing the verge of losing control of his body). Typically I drag him along through the halls (our school is built in a circle making this perfect) always a few steps ahead so that he has to keep a pretty good pace to keep up with me, thus tiring him out and sending him back to class a little calmer. Well today by our second lap around the school he was dragging me. My legs are tight and my knees are begging me to quit.

I had a ministry meeting in-between work and workout so my body got a lot of time to sit and do nothing while I was stuck in traffic on the highway. This is the first time I've headed to the gym hungry. I've kept my diet incredibly restricted and regulated this week. Counting out portions and employing more measuring cups and plastic baggies then I care to admit to. I should have known I was in trouble when I was still daydreaming about food as I walked into the gym. By the time I was changed and ready to hit the treadmill again my muscles had morphed into red hot fire pokers ripping through my legs. My shoulders and back ache. And so out of hunger, physical pain and mental exhaustion I let myself quit at a half mile. I got on a bike and pulled out 4 miles in 20 minutes and headed to the grocery store.

Part of my brain is telling me it was a smart choice. I limped out of the gym and wouldn't bend my left knee because of the pain in my thighs. (Which is actually quite a sight. As I've gotten older we've begun to realize that I'm pretty bow legged. I actually wear through shoes really awkwardly because I walk with my feet pointed outward (a drastic difference from my sister whose completely pigeon toed) and walk on the outside of my heels. When I realize it I will occasionally make a conscious choice to walk with my feet uncomfortably straight because I think it looks dainty and lady like. Snowboard boots and flip flops look ok turned outward but ballerina flats and heels look out of place when they stick out sideways.  Anyways at twenty five my knees have turned outward and point to the sides. It's not crippling and most of the time it's only the people spend lots of time with me or ironically children who seem to notice. So it's quite funny to watch me when I'm in that much pain that I will keep my knee clenched straight instead of bending it to walk normally. I will step down straight as if my foot is connected to my hip but my knee will swing so far out that it extends even farther out then my hip and shoulder. I must look like such a goon). I came home, showered and prepared my small group lesson for tomorrow nights ministry with the 8th grade girls.

I'm telling myself that my 4 mile bike is counting for a rest day and I will try again tomorrow. I'll be wearing a new Twins shirt that got left behind by someone who decided to sneak into my car while I was at work and leave it there. It's got the fancy American League Central Division Champions logo on it and was left with a note that said, "Sorry about your loss." So I will wear it tomorrow for game one to spit whoever it is that left it there as one last dig at my White Sox this year.

I'm registered. I have sixty four George Washington resembling reasons not quit and with my measly paycheck this month that is reason enough. Part of me is scared, today was day three and I allowed myself to quit. What's going to stop me from quitting during the race? How am I ever going to hit 10?The pain was too much to push through today and I wused out.

When we send kids home because they can't stay in school my co-worker always sends them out with, "Ok buddy, we'll try again tomorrow."

"Ok Mandi, we'll try again tomorrow."

Training Day 1

The training portion of day one is done and here are my newest discoveries.

1. Two-A-Days suck!
2. When I can conquer my head, I can conquer anything.

I woke up this morning having spent far too much of my night battling my brain for sleep. I'm on prescription meds to put me out every night. I've been on them for over two years and my body now realizing it's own physical addiction some night attempts to fight the drugs and stay up as late as it pleases and wake up as often as it wants. Last night was one of those nights.

I woke up with one of those empty kinds of headaches. Where your head feels like a cave and the only thing in it is a echoing kind of pain. I forced myself into something that resembles proper running attire and headed for the gym. On the drive over I forced down half a peanut butter sandwich with flax and two Advil. Remembering someone's advice that if you down a bottle of water first thing in the morning it jump starts your metabolism, I tried that too.

I struggled through two miles on the treadmill. I mean I really struggled, I walked for at least the first ten minutes and then dragged my sorry butt into a 13.45min/mile pace. I was tired but convinced at some point during the day I was going to appreciate what I was putting myself through. My youngest sister spent the last week with my iPod in Vegas so I tried keeping my head still enough to read the ticker on CNN without noise and force myself not to quit on my last half mile.

I kept looking at my watch battling against myself whether I was going to pick up the pace so I would have time to shower and get in a quick Bible study at Caribou when I stopped to get my $1 Special Monday morning coffee. (Hey, if we're going to put my body through boot camp this month, may as well see if I can train my Spirit into some consistency too.)I decided to barter away the shower for the slower pace. (I wasn't going to sweat anyways).

Work went by as normal as a Monday morning in an Elementary School can go. A preschooler who thought he was a gorilla, a Kindergartner whose scared of gorillas, a 3rd grader who broke up a fight by head-butting the assailant, and a 5th grader who stopped speaking and will only do school work on the hallway floor. I love my job. Even an old co-worker who is still near and dear to my heart noticed I am less stressed and walk with an air of confidence when I pass her in the halls. But I will be honest, by the end of the afternoon I am typically looking forward to the bell. But around 2 this afternoon I was dreading the end of the day because it meant another work out. At least this morning I had my day to look forward to; Coffee, a quiet moment with Beth Moore and the book of Daniel, the never-ending adventures with the kids and a tin of Altoids I keep hidden in my desk drawer. This afternoon I knew I had to the up milage, my right knee was biting back and I didn't even have anything good planned for dinner.

I forced myself into a quick change in the gym and headed back out unto the same treadmill as this morning. I quickened my pace right away, hoping the faster I went the sooner it would get over. I should be honest, I've done close to 20 official 5k races. My best recorded race time is 31.34. But I have never ran 3 miles straight without slowing down to walk. (Whether to catch my breath, reestablish my pace, or rub out a cramp). I have never run 3 straight miles until tonight that is. Again without an iPod and with a touch more resolve than this morning I started. I trained my eyes to stare at TV number 7 which was playing Judge Judy and didn't allow myself to look anywhere else but down at the treadmill once every set of commercials. I allowed my brain to focus on my favorite daydream when it was able but after mile one for most of the run my brain would just go blank.

My upper body went through it's typical aches and pains. The sharp shooting pain in my collar bones and upper chest as the muscles realize my pumping arms won't be stopping anytime soon. My right knee creaks for the first bit and the toes in my left foot slam against the tops of my shoes forcing me to curl them inward until they cramp when I can release them and my toes are too numb to care that the toe nails will be gone by the end of the week.

I realized near the end of mile one that I had not stopped. It started to take more control to keep my mind focused and the temptation to look away from Judge Judy became greater. Half way through mile two it became really hard to keep going. My brain had realized I was going to make it without stopping to walk or slowing down at all. In fact by mile two I had sped up to race goal pace. When I allowed my brain a moment to celebrate my impending achievement I instantly set myself up against it. It was taking all of my mental energy not to quit and this was only 3 miles, that's only a little over a quarter of what I have to run. And the familiar demons of failure and doom started to spread their stink in the corners of my mind. Somewhere I found the courage to start repeating to myself, "You don't think about how far you have to go, you think about how far you have come. You don't think about how far you have to go, you think about how far you have come." Until I could train my brain back into fuzziness and my eyes back unto the screen. I refused to let the humidity or the sticky, sweat to trigger asthma and forcibly kept my breath slow, calm, controlled.

When I was sure I had hit three miles I was quick to shut the treadmill off and head to the locker rooms. It spun for a while but by the time I got in the car and started noshing my post workout cup of Kashi I'd gotten the world to stand back right side up in my eyes. Sweat dripped down my face and into my eyes as I drove to my Mom's to see my sister and retrieve my iPod. And a grin curled up around the corners of my mouth. I was tempted to text a few of my friends to share my great achievement and then I realized how little it must seem in the light of all of life. I ran 3 miles, big deal. But something about my little secret achievement makes me keep smiling. I ran 3 miles!

Did it have to do with the embarrassing two-miler this morning, or the specific times I forced myself to eat peanut butter or almonds? Maybe, Probably. Was it related to the fact that I literally battled tears while I forced myself back into the gym? That I hated myself so much for making me do it that I was going to show my disciplined side? My greatest pout, my success? Maybe. No, thirty six some odd minutes to run three miles is not my crowning achievement by any means, it's not fast, it's not skill and it's for sure not what I'm aiming for. But it's three miles, it's three miles.  All I know is that today was a success and on the first day, that was all I needed.

In a few minutes I'm heading with my "big sister" to our friend's softball games which will put us home well after 11. I'd like to see my body try fighting sleep tonight.

And tomorrow, we'll do it all over again!

10 in 10.

DO OVER! I'm starting over.

The blog at least. Pretend you don't know me. Or maybe you don't. Start reading now. From now on I plan on being this amazing writer with an even more amazing life that will  keep you glued to your screen and find yourself distracted at work hoping and wishing for my next entry. Maybe now would be a good time to start reading.

Or maybe not. I'm find myself on the tail end of 25 and when I look around me, as much as I love my life and the people and things that surround me, I cannot help but see and feel failure in every area of life that I am.

Its hard for me to say that. To admit to it, or to find people or places in life where I can. I am in a place both in my job and my ministry in which I have and instill immense value in other peoples life. I have what I know to be an invaluable gift to see the best in people. (Particularly the people that are under the age of 18). I spend my days investing in the best of us and teaching and learning and journeying with people who deserve success. I can see doctors and lawyers and basketball players and CEO's in kids written off with ADHD, Autism, EBD and just plain naughty. I can see 8th grade girls walking in the freedom and beauty of Christ where the rest of the world sees the lost and the broken and the young. The immature and the unwilling. When I think of my "sisters"; Jen, Jess and Abbi, my niece Isabelle, when I view their present circumstances, when I dream about their futures I can see what I only can describe as beautiful. Success is too small of a word. They can, they are, they will.

But when I look at me I can't. I can see it in everyone else. In the people I love, the beautiful, wonderful, people I live my life with. The people God has entrusted into my hands. Even the people I don't love, the people who don't smell good, the ones you don't want to scoop into your arms and cuddle and love. Even there for the sheer fact that justice must exist and that this life owes them another shot, even those lives I can see hope. I love to see hope in. I love to fight for.

But me. I'm a different story. When I look at me I see,

Finances so f-ed that I have long since accepted the fact that I will never be on the other side of debt. I have understood that the choices I made as a child, as a teenager with my money will follow me into adulthood, will follow me for the rest of my life. I have spent the last many years learning how to cling on for dear life by a finger hold or two. Sometimes it comes to the point where all I am clinging on by is one last finger. I'm a good person, I was a good kid. I just got a letter that the people who are suing me have defaulted the lawsuit on me. I don't know what the means but I know it means I'm in trouble. I know it means that a little bit wasn't good enough and that trying to hide it all and figure it all out on my own didn't work this time. I know it means that karma has come right around to bite me and running away from the scary things won't work anymore.

I've not so publicly taken the semester off. When I do actually come to the point of being able to say that out loud it will be because I need time to help myself transition into a new job. (Which is mostly true). But the truest part about it is, It's a last ditch effort to not fail out of my private Christian school at my 4th attempt at getting through school with my BA. Not my Masters or my PH.D my bachelors.

I'm single. Which is something that scares me. It didn't used to, but now it does. One of my best friends told me this morning I need to learn how to take care of myself before I bring someone else into the mix. Which I know is true, I know it's especially true in her mind in light of the conversations she's walked into with me in the last few weeks. But I think at 25, (on the tail end of 25) your supposed to know how to take care of yourself. There are a lot of things that we think we're supposed to have figured out that we never will and I'm ok with that part of being human but there are a lot of things I think I'm supposed to know by now, that I don't. Or if I know them, I don't do them. Or I don't do them well. Any of the above choices is failure in my mind.

I've unexpectedly found myself on an Autumn time journey of self discovery  but I'm not sure I like what I'm finding but I'm pretty sure no one else does. I think I'm not as great a friend as I give myself credit for. I'm quieter then I thought I was. (Well sometimes). The things that I used to be incredibly sensitive about don't bother me as much anymore, but new things do. And instead of tears it seems my new default emotion is anger. While I have found myself managing to get through life by a few fingers gripping this side of the mountain, it seems the only finger still holding on is my middle one.

And so I'm running.

I don't know whether I'm running to keep my head above water. I don't know if I'm running because I could drown if I don't, and I'm really scared of what drowning looks like today. I don't know if I'm running because I'm stressed, because I'm scared, because I'm sad, or because this is a socially acceptable way to keep on running away. I don't really know why I'm running yet, but I'm willing to find out.

I guess for October, I'm willing to explore. I'm guess I willing to find out at least on the run, who I am, why I'm running, or what I'm running for.

So I'm running.

And I start tomorrow. I'm running a 10 mile race on Halloween weekend and I start training tomorrow. October 4th. I should probably tell you, I haven't been to the gym since August.

It's crazy and trust me I know by no means is this the typical (or honestly healthy) way to train for a run. But it excites me. If there is anyone who would want to do something crazy like this it would be me. If there is anyone who could choose the intense control and disciple it's going to take to survive this thing I can. If there is anyone who needs a goal, as simple and shallow as a race may be, it's me. If there is anyone who needs something to work for, something you can see and feel and touch to remind me I'm still human it's me. If there is anyone who needs something to strive for, to work for, to be proud of it's me. I need to know there is something out there that I don't fail at.

And so I'm running, and I'm writing about it.

A happy home smells like bleach and pine sol.

Years ago I would watch my Mom sweat, cry and bleed over our kitchen floors. Later in life (before we lived together) I knew to pick my words carefully if Jenny's old house smelt like cleaner.

I never understood why the women in my life that I looked up to cleaned to release stress. Doesn't cleaning just stress you out? Dang, Mom it sure stressed your kids out!

And then I moved in here. Jenny's first home post-divorce. The home we would day dream about getting when times were really bad, the house I would fantasize about over seas when I didn't know whether or not I had the strength to make it through one more day.

This is the first time I have taken ownership over a home. I know it's not technically mine, it's Jen's. But I was here from day one. I was here when she first started getting floor plans, when we would talk about the best lay out for the 2 of us, the dog, getting groceries, coming in soaked from swimming and snowboarding. We have created this home. We've created an idea, a spirit, a community. This is the first time I have known a consistent home.

And I am never more happy then when it smells like bleach and pine sol. (Ok I like when it smells like Donna Karen Cashmere Mist but that's besides the point). Tonight I've ripped this place apart and bleached out crevasses that have not seen the light of day in months.

Tonight I've begun to understand the release in cleaning. The way stress melts away with dust. I'm battling for my home on so many fronts as I battle the dirt and the dust.

End of Summer

This afternoon I was offered a new job. A job I interviewed for on Friday. A job I wanted. I really wanted. A job I think I might look forward to being a part of everyday. A job that brings out the strengths in who I am. A job that allows me grow. It is the one of the most exciting and scary things I have ever done. I've been working in my current position basically since I was 16 years old. I'm 25 now. I have built relationships with my families and with my staff. I have grown to know this and only this. I have been trained and learned how to do what I do and do it well and now...I'm walking away from it and walking into something new and different. Something that puts me in the trenches everyday and yet I am excited. I am the girl who hates change. I HATE it. I run from change or the idea of change. (I literally cannot stand the fact that someone is renting out our loft). But this change, even after originally posting for another job I was nervous to the point of shaking that I would ever consider leaving the job I have now. I posted for this job as an after thought. I almost didn't because I was in the middle of some good conversation with my best friend but quickly posted for it online. After the interview I wanted it, and I wanted it bad and suddenly I was not scared of the change but hoping for it. Praying for it. Today something in my head and heart said I would know by the end of the night and shortly after getting work I got the call. It's like I'm something. Not like I'm "something" but there is something about me that they want. I'm good at something and they can see it and they want to use it. And I'm excited for that.

Tonight Mom experimented with pizza on the grill. Good thing it was a free pizza because it totally flopped. Izze and Abbi came home in good moods and it was nice to hang out like the old days. My sisters sent me and Izze upstairs to play in her room and hooked Mom on the "Real Housewives of New Jersey." It was a glimpse back, a welcome glance.

We're down to the 11 day mark. Bits called today after my excited text about the new job. It was good to talk to her briefly and day dream about vacation outloud. Izze and I walk around the house like we're in a secret club, we're going out of town and no one else is. I think we're driving everyone nuts.

Friday Aug 27th-Aug 29th Chicago Vacation with Bitsy, Jenny and Izze.
Aug 30th-Sept 1st Minneapolis Vacation for Bitsy
Sept 1st-2nd Back to Chicago w/ Jenny, Bitsy and Matt
Sept 2nd-3rd Detroit w/ Jenny and Matt
Sept 3rd-4th Wisconsin Dells w/Jenny and Matt
Sept 4th-5th Tomahawk Wisconsin  w/Jenny and Matt


Jen is gone on her family vacation now. A house boat WAY up north. So I've got the little man all week. Everyone makes fun of what a baby dog he is but Jen has been gone a little less than 48 hours and he has only left my side if I have forced him to by leaving for work. If I am in the house he is touching me and barks at anything that moves near me. I am and always have been convinced this little monster could makes things very difficult for anyone trying to hurt me.

Will I be glad when it is over?

I wonder if by Sunday night anything will be different. Will it be easier to breath? Will it be easier to read the Word? Will it be easier to stand up straight, hold my hands up in worship?

Do I actually believe that once one task at hand is completed that the Enemy will relent on his attack and we will breath easier, walk through life lighter?

I would like to believe we could but I don't  think we will. I don't think the temptation to think like the world, act like the world, fit in with the world, listen to the world will abate just because things are "completed." Quite honestly I don't think that Sunday evening is completion date.

Today I have been busy. If I was not attempting to beat my body into quiet submission through sweat, I was attempting to quite my mind and heart in the stillness of His throne room. The enemy watched me go apparently because he has not let up since. Physically my ankle has gone to crap in a moment, forcing my normal afternoon routine in a less demanding one. Spiritually, mentally, emotionally things that I have trained myself not to believe, not to think about have become my evening obsession.

Thoughts about my weight and body image have been downed with Nalgene after Nalgene of water.
Mistruths about my worth have been doodled, crossed out and rewritten in my journal. Poured over and reread, cried over and obsessed. Words from one I know loves me misconstrued into attacks in my head, and held unto in my heart like a precious jewel. My precious pain jewel.

Why do I do these things? Why do I hold unto pain as if it is a reward? When I am attacked by the enemy I grab unto whatever is hurting me and I cling to it, I literally obsess over it until most often I am physically sick. This is disgusting, this is sin!

I am a daughter, a object of pride, and a beloved bride of the Most High King of Heaven. My worth is uncountable in the eyes of the King. And so is yours! When Jesus sees me He longs for the day when He can come get me and hold me in His arms. He is proud of every moment I give Him glory. His heart leaps when I run to Him. He longs to offer ointment for my wounds and peace for my worried mind.

My King sees me, He hears me, He is faithful, He is love. I am HIS! and I AM ENOUGH!