Bravery

I've been locked away for a bit.

And, it's been hard and new.

Particularly, for this girl who takes pride in being a loud mouth, social media posting, crazy, runner/coffee drinker/mama yeller/f-bomb dropper--being locked in an office reading everything I can get my hands on while crafting a course syllabus has been illuminatingly trying and terrifying.

And finally, this afternoon, I caught a glimpse of light.

At 1:30pm, with a balmy 18 degrees, I put on my colorful running kicks, strapped my new Garmin and begged for the wind to take me five miles.  Somewhere between the wind blowing in my face, snot trickling down my lip and a lady stopping me about a lost dog;  I started shaping the theme and hope for my new year...bravery.

Like most, I'm intentional about what I want a new year to look like.  I typically name it, praying that by calling out the mantra, setting pen to paper and committing to new behaviors, that life will shift...in a good way.

A week into the new year, I'm realizing that authentic bravery doesn't necessarily come in flashy, public choices.  It finds itself in the daily grind...in the ways we show up, when no one is looking or even when no one cares about what we're doing and we're the only advocate in the room.

It manifests itself in the places where you don't know what you're doing.  I mean where you haven't got a fucking clue and you're just praying that if you make a move that the universe will usher your next one.

It finds itself in the mud and the muck.  You know, the details.  In carving out the plan....painstaking piece by piece, when you'd rather zone out to Netflix, Amazon Prime or eat chocolate--like a LOT of caramel, chocolate followed up by salty, fabulous chips and salsa, yes, Mama Hoots salsa and tortilla chips and then, wait, what's happening on Facebook?  What about Instagram?  And the tree outside?  Where is my neighbor going--didn't she just come home?  And why in all of holy fuck are my kids fighting again over the piano? AND, to that end, another hour has gone by and well, you cannot legitimately check a single item off of your to-do list.

Details.  Sacrifice.  Belief in the journey without any guarantee of success on the other side.  Integrity in the work.

Over Christmas break, my dad came to visit.  We don't usually get to have much one-on-one time, but in a stroke of luck and because my children are desperate to marry their devices, he and I spent a morning talking about everything under the sun.

He recently retired, like two months ago.  He gifted me a desk that he made, hauled it all the way from Dallas, set it up in my office and told me the following...don't be afraid to work, Kel.  It's the only thing you can really call your own.  Roll up your sleeves.  Get messy.  Don't stand on the sidelines waiting for the perfect set of circumstances or the accolades.  That's a bunch of bull shit.  Do it because it's the right thing to do and because your hands touched it.  It's wonderful that God gifted you with a brain but don't be a dip shit.  Put some God damn elbow grease into it and get the job done.  The best people I know work and they don't pass their shit off to other people.  Whatever you do, show up every day.  Make your mark, moment by moment, day by day.

He left and that's what I've been trying to do.  Show up.  Do the work.  And see where it takes me.


I've had quite a few moments that I've felt like this...

Kind of like, fuck me...what am I doing?

But other times, I think about vulnerability, courage, sacrifice, my dad and my students.

I'm excited, terrified, hopeful and I guess...brave.

Youer than You

This week in classrooms all over the land, children were celebrating the life and legacy of Theodor Seuss Geisel or the beloved, Dr. Seuss, that we all know.

On March 2nd, he would have turned 112 years old.

It's hard for me to imagine that gazads of years ago, he had the foresight, creativity and courage to write and illustrate stories of inclusivity, acceptance and individuality long before it was acceptable to honor those who are different from us.

My 5-year old daughter, Claire's preschool classroom took the entire week to celebrate reading a different Seuss masterpiece each day.  The inspiration of stories, prompted us to read one of our favorites at home..."Happy Birthday to You!"  As the bird of the story celebrates who he is, the narrator proclaims...

To which, my Claire inquired, "What does it mean to be youer than you?"  A bit tongue tied, I tried my best to describe that God only made one of each of us and that there are no other Claires on the earth even remotely resembling who she is.  And then I asked, "What does it mean to be Claire...the Claire that you are?"  She sat and thought for what felt like a really long time.  Resisting the urge to describe her, I waited.  Finally, she leaned into me and said, "I am a singer.  That's my gift.  I'm yellow.  I mean my skin and my hair are kinda yellow brown.  I am fun.  Like, I like to do this (she wiggled her eye brows up and down with a 'How you doin?' expression).  And, I'm a really kind sister and I love God."

This is exactly what it means to be youer than you, I encouraged.  You don't have to try to be something you're not.  You can be exactly who you are...in fact, be more of it in the world...sing more, grow more yellow, be kind to all you meet and keep loving your siblings and God.  In a nutshell, let the world get the best of you.

In the midst of the insanity that was Super Tuesday and another ridiculous round of the Republican debates...I resisted the urge to share my favorite Dr. Seuss quote with my sweet daughter...even if it is a tad modified from the original version.

But all the same, it's exactly how I feel about the youness of certain candidates...nonetheless, I suppose we're all entitled to be youer than you.

Core Fears

Usually by this point, post my Market-to-Market 76-mile relay race, I would have written a fun and semi-raunchy blog post documenting the experience.  And, I'm sure I will complete with pictures and descriptions of my crazy, amazing teammates.

But not until, I process what happened last week.

It rocked me and my family to the core.

Our neighbor discovered someone peering into our window.  Which launched police being called, motion detector lights being installed, talks with the kids about strangers and anxiety the likes that I haven't felt in a very long time emerging.

Do you have a nightmare or a worst case scenario...something that if God forbid it ever happened, you're certain that you'd never recover from?

Beyond a shadow of a doubt, it is the inability to protect my children.  I have dreams about how I would rescue all three of them if there was a fire or my exit strategy if we had an in-home invasion.  As a child of the John Joubert generation and later as an adult learning about the kidnapping of Elizabeth Smart, Jaycee Dugard and the three young girls that Ariel Castro held captive for years...there is a visceral part of me that wants to vomit and die thinking about the prospect of that kind of Hell being a reality for my children and my family.  I know that every parent feels the same.

And so when we experienced this violation, my first inclination was to pull the kids out of school, board up the windows, take on home schooling and never let them leave my sight.  Until my husband proclaimed, we absolutely will not live in fear.  We can take security precautions, but we will live our lives...that means that we'll mow our lawn, water our plants, play in our backyard, ride our bikes, talk to our neighbors, engage our mail carrier, laugh and live and so help me God if that rat bastard has any inclination to return, I'll strangle him with my bare hands...that sort of made me feel better.

And now, I have to wake up and remember that scary, hard things happen but we don't have to be paralyzed by them.  The mark of living is the choice to be resilient, to decide that there is too much good to be mired in the taste of the bad.

I will seek to be courageous, even though I feel afraid.  And will also remember, that at the end of the day, when it comes to my kids, I am a lioness.  Heaven help you if you try to put them in harms way. Because there is no question that I will fuck you up and make you wish that you'd never lied eyes on us.

See, I already feel better.

To Be Brave

I've always been fascinated by what it means to be brave.

Is it strength?  Is it stretching...beyond one's comfort zone into the unknown, the foreign, the uncharted terrain?  Is it simply showing up void of any expectation for outcome other than the moment at hand?  Is it bold?  Does brave scream or does it stand silently by the wayside bearing witness to the action before it? 

Last Saturday it was 17 degrees and fucking cold.  Like the kind of cold where you can both see your breath and simultaneously, catch it realizing that you've been out in the elements too long.

I didn't have much of a choice.  The previous two weeks had not leant themselves to the long run mileage I needed for my training schedule and so against my better judgment I went for 10 miles by myself.

Three miles in, I was feeling really good until I went to suck water from my Camelbak and all I got was air.  The water froze in the tubing and instantly I thought, "I can't do it."

But then, my favorite song came on and somehow, I just kept going.  Catching up to the trail at mile five, I started losing feeling in my face because the north wind was a nasty little bitch and by that point, I was too far away from home to stop and running was the only logical choice to get back to warmth faster.

And so, I kept running.  And as I periodically checked my Garmin, I discovered that the frigid fucking tundra of weather suited my speed well.  I was pacing much faster consistently.  I was shocked, literally and figuratively.

Somehow, I got home...stripped and dove into the hottest bath that you can imagine.  It was painful and blissful all in one breath.

And in that moment, I was brave...not because I was stupid and ran in ridiculous conditions, but because I pushed myself to discern my limits.  And on that day, despite the set backs, I had none.  I was free.

Since then, I've been mindful of what it means to push and what it means to be still...how it is that we seek the unknown and strive to rise when we think we cannot. 

The problem with bravery is that it is a tricky machine.  You want enough of it to launch you into places you've never been before, but not too much to have you believing that you can fly off buildings directly into inevitable demise.

The truth is...bravery is loud when it needs to be, but for me, it's quiet most of the time.  It's the whisper in my mind that drives the beat of my heart and the buzz in my being that creates a slow, growing motion propelling me toward that which I've never known before.  And in the end, I'm better for it.  Just one frozen step at a time.

Chutzpah and Humility

A few mornings ago I found myself at church leading a prayer for my women's circle.  It went something like this...

(big deep breath)

Dear God...thank you for today...the warmer temperatures, the sunshine and these women in this room right now.  Sometimes, there are not enough words to say thank you for all of the blessings, all of the beauty, all of the joy that fills our lives moment by moment...and sometimes, there are no words to describe the fear, the anxiety, the doubt that creeps in to steal those moments when we're afraid of where we've arrived or where we're going.  Help us to approach today and each day from a place of love, a place of grace, a place of openness.  Help us to confront the unknown and to leave fear at the door.

Later, I was in the kitchen cooking catching up on an episode of "On Being," a weekly radio show by Krista Tippett about what it means to be human and the kind of life that we want to live.  Its broadcast by American Public Media on five bajillion public radio stations across the country and is worth a listen over and over again (www.onbeing.org). 

Tippett interviewed panelists about what it means to rebel in these days and times.  One of her panelists said that it means to live one's life on purpose both with chutzpah and humility seeking to rise to your best self in service to others, even when...especially when...you are afraid and your action is unpopular in the eyes of many. This is what it means to not only have courage, but to use it, to rebel against that which is status quo for the greater good of the community.

I was sold and convicted instantly.  While the onions and garlic sauteed, I sat catatonically mesmerized by his words.  He went on to say that choosing to step into your best self requires you to own and to recognize that we don't live binary lives.  We're not either/or people.  We live in both.  We are bold and timid.  We are walking contradictions.  And so while on some days, our chutzpah abounds and we are fearless and frantic for change.  Other times, we are cowards, fearful, afraid, unsure and want more than anything to just be comfortable and safe.  All of this is what it means to be human.  To wrestle with knowing when we're rising to the challenge of being our best selves and when we're choosing to stay put because it's easier.

At church giving that prayer, I felt both hopeful and fearful, excited and afraid.  Every morning brings a new opportunity, but change takes work and what if it doesn't work and what if I fail and what if I waste my resources and others' along the way?

Tippett's panelist says, it's okay.  You'll rebel against your inner fear and go for it on some days and others will bring humility and retreat and a sense of not now, not in this moment.  That is what it means to be human. 

Stirring the saute pan, I decided for now, it's enough.  It's enough to be aware, to be engaged in both parts of me....that which wants to rise greeting that which wants to stay seated.  It's sort of a beautifully messy dance.

Ode to My Mother-In-Law

I have watched you my entire married life.

You are quiet, humble, patient, and the farthest thing from pretentious.

For all of your life, you have embodied what it means to be a survivor.

To rise up.

To not be mired in what is fair or unfair.

But to gracefully take life on it's terms and to make lemonade out of every hardship that has come your way.

You are not afraid to work.  To roll up your sleeves.  To get into the mud and the muck and to get the job the done.

And all of your hard work shows...in so many ways...but in two, in particular.

Your daughter and your son.

You have to be so proud.  For you have single-handedly raised two people who are changing the world, one smile, one kind act, one moment at a time.  And that is because of the foundation that you gave to them and the values that you imparted.

These past seven days have meant a great deal to me.  We shared coffee, meals, laughter, tears, my children, your grandchildren, memories, stories, hopes, disappointments, lessons, doubts, and ultimately, forged a deeper bond that says:  I know what you're going through.  I've been there.  I love you.  And you're not alone.

When the love of your life passed away this summer, I thought that the world would end.  But in true form, you quietly picked up the pieces, wiped away the tears and began to live life...because you knew deep in your heart that he would want you to.

And once again, I stood in admiration seeing a woman who is strong, who is brave, who chooses to embrace love instead of fear and who come what may, keeps putting one foot in front of the other with a smile on her face.

I love you.  I am grateful for you. And my children are extraordinarily blessed to have you as their Grandma Bonnie.

The Power of Vulnerability

I've always worn my heart on my sleeve.

Ask anyone who knows me and they'll tell you that 99.9% of the time, I'm willing to tell you just about anything that you want to know about me and most of it falls in the realm of the intimate or the personal.

I don't know why.  But I find it liberating to be the first one at a cocktail party or a gathering of friends to start spilling the "real" stuff...the brutal challenges of motherhood, the craziness that is marriage or the cons of wearing a thong...not necessarily in that order.

I've just never been very good about talking about the weather or fashion or organic eating or...well, you get the picture.

And so, it was with extreme gratitude and a huge shout of praise to God that I stood humbled and joy filled when five women said yes to participating in an advent event that I'm organizing for a women's circle at my parish.

In a dress rehearsal of sorts, they came and shared their personal journeys of faith in preparation for the event next week.  As each woman spoke and cracked the facade of control, perfection and mystique that we like to show the world...my eyes filled with tears, my heart swelled with love, and my faith magnified as I realized beyond a shadow of doubt that God is indeed alive and well among us.

If there's one life lesson that I want to impart to my children it is that the faster you let judgement, condemnation, and righteousness go in favor of compassion, kindness, and empathy... joy and abundance in the simple will abound.

We should all do ourselves a favor and be not afraid to be vulnerable with one another.  We have nothing to lose and everything collectively to gain. 

How Do You Walk Through the World?

Last night, I had the privilege of participating in The Literacy Center of the Midlands fundraiser, "The Spelling Bee."

In her opening comments, the executive director noted that over 77,000 people in the Omaha metro area are functionally illiterate.  And because they can't read, they are some of the most intelligent, creative, resourceful people she knows.

Driving down city streets, they know to turn left or right based on landmarks.  They figure out food labels in grocery stores, how to interpret bills in their mailboxes and how to apply for jobs even though many have no experience with online tools.

Seated at my table was a woman who is a student at the Literacy Center.  She shared her story and my soul was stirred.

At the age of 50+ years old, she's starting over again.  She wants something different, something better for her life.  She's doing what she said she should have been doing a long time ago...getting the skills she needs to navigate and thrive in the world.

And it's not easy.  It takes a willingness to be vulnerable, to fall on your face, to keep trying, and to trust that eventually these skills (that most of us take for granted) will emerge.

Her story and the entire event gave me extraordinary pause.

We all walk through the world...side by side...wanting the best lives for ourselves, for those we love.  We sacrifice, we hope, we try, we fail, we believe, we yearn for more.

But what was different in this woman was how she walked...she wasn't afraid of what it would take to learn, she was afraid of what she would become if she didn't make change in her life.

I want that.  I want to fear what will become of me if I don't do what I should do....instead....of how painful or hard or scary it will be to take on the task at hand.

We have so much to learn from one another.  I'm so grateful that I had the opportunity to walk alongside her for a little while last night.

Waiting on God...and a Bone Marrow Transplant

I was going to write about something different.

But I can't stop thinking about it.

My dad sent an email telling us that my 13-year old cousin who is suffering from Acute myeloid leukemia is not doing well.

Some of you may remember that I wrote a post about him back in the spring (see below).

Prayers Needed for My Cousin

At the time, we thought that he was a candidate for a bone marrow transplant and that the University of Nebraska Medical Center Lied Transplant Center would accept his case.

In the span of a few short months, his health became more fragile and so he is now in another state at a larger medical center fighting for a chance to receive a transplant...and each day brings a new twist to the roller coaster ride.

I called him last night.  His birthday is Sunday.  He's turning 14.  He asked for the fifth Harry Potter book and told me that he's doing okay.

"I know that God has a plan and I'm okay with that."

Through tears, I told him that we missed him and that we wished that he wasn't so far away.  I told him that he was courageous, an old soul, wise beyond his years, and that his faith was awe inspiring.

And now, I volley between anger and hope.  Anger in a God that would take a child.  And hope that he may be able to stay with us a little longer.

And a reminder that yet again, tomorrow is guaranteed to no one and that we must hold tight the ones we love.

Choosing Courage

Not long ago, I read a story to my children about courage.

The protagonist, a little boy named Max, tells his father that he wishes he could be brave and strong like him...but that all he feels is fear.  He's afraid of the dark.  Afraid of the boy who lives down the block.  Afraid of the monster in his closet.  Afraid, afraid.

His dad tells him, "Max, true bravery comes when you are most afraid and choose to face your fear anyway." 

I've been afraid a lot lately.  Afraid of dropping lots of balls that I have up in the air.  My jewelry business.  My running plan.  My family's needs.  Volunteer work.  You name it, I'm feeling vulnerable.

I signed up to run my first official race this Sunday.  It's a 5-mile trail run in the middle of January.  I know, what the hell was I thinking?  I have no idea what I'm getting myself into and the truth is I feel much like Max with all of these monsters under my bed.

Searching to face my fear head on...I'm working on honoring the fear, but choosing action anyway....harnessing my inner lioness.  Bring it.