11 in '11

Well, we’ve reached mid-December, and I’ve blogged about maybe two of my trips this year. Instead of beat myself up about it, or pretend I actually have any illusions of actually writing an entire blog for any of my trips, I’m going to make a list. I like lists, so it’s a win-win.

My Top 11 Events from 2011 (in somewhat chronological order)

11. My New Year’s resolution was peace, love and happiness. I was still battling a lot of demons, so I enrolled myself in DivorceCare at The Crossing. I went in hoping for some closure. I may have come out with more questions than I started with, but at least I felt like I knew the right questions, finally. I made a lot of progress toward forgiving myself. And I think I have a really good grasp on what it takes to make marriage work, because it’s far too sad and cynical to think that I’d never get married again.

10. I traded in the late-March snowstorm in Missouri for sunny San Diego for the Team USA Training Camp. I blogged all about this here, but the highlights include riding around a gorgeous golf course in perfect weather, hanging out the back of a van on a bike trail and, of course, falling in love with the athletes who would represent the USA at World Games.

9. Kimmie, Erin and I set out on the first road trip of the year for Annaleigh’s bachelorette party. Erin got hit on by a 90-year-old man, I conquered my fear of driving across the Lake Ponchartrain bridge and we didn’t even get lost. Um, let’s see, what is printable about the actual party? Well, we ate a lot of good food. And we danced a LOT. And we laughed more than we danced. There was Lady Gaga and a beach bar and sunburns and street art and beads and champagne and frozen drinks. It was kind of everything you’d expect if you’ve met Annaleigh and ever been to New Orleans and/or a bachelorette party. (Except the only stripper in the hotel was actually trying to break into our room. We didn’t hire him. I promise.)

8. Erin, Eric, Jeremie and I set out for Alabama for Annaleigh’s wedding a few weeks later. We made the requisite stop at Lambert’s and then talked about nothing but Hunger Games until we gorged ourselves at the first seafood joint we could find. Then we arrived at the Craft house, which happens to be right out of a movie set: big white colonial right on Dog River surrounded by droopy trees. Annaleigh continued to prove that everything she’d ever told us was, in fact, true. We reunited with our Alabama BFFs and the girls headed to a nail salon, where we munched on chips and sipped beer. The rehearsal dinner was delicious and picturesque, and I got to ride on Bob’s boat back to the house. Then we all went to Meghan’s where we played beer pong and proved that Mobile is not better than The World. (Seriously, beer at the nail salon and beer pong the night before your wedding? There is NO ONE in the world like my Annaleigh. J) The morning of the wedding, we watched the coverage of William and Kate while we got our hair and makeup done. The 13 bridesmaids were all soft and lovely in their dresses, and Annaleigh made us all cry when she came out in her dress. The wedding went off as planned, I gave a compelling reading from Genesis 2, and Annaleigh got married – just like I always knew she would. The weather was perfect for the backyard reception, where the wedding party made the grandest of entries on a yacht. We ate delicious Southern comfort food (I’m thinking I should blame the 2011 brides for my inability to lose weight this year) and drank from mason jars. We danced harder than maybe I’ve ever danced in my life. We threw dynamite in the river. And then, when the reception was over, we walked downtown – Annaleigh still in her wedding dress – and danced some more.  

 

7. I made a ton of trips to St. Louis this year, but none were more memorable than for the nuptials of the city’s most-missed couple: Erin and Eric. They had inadvertently set their date on the day of rapture, so that almost ruined everything, but luckily that guy turned out to just be a kook. This ceremony goes down as the least-traditional wedding I’ve ever witnessed, and every detail screamed Erin, right down to the squashed penny on the program. Annaleigh officiated, and there were readings from both Hemingway and Where the Wild Things Are. Erin was stunning and so relaxed, and she never even had to grasp at her throat for air. If I thought my friends brought the party to the dance floor in Alabama, we were matched by the rest of Erin and Eric’s guests, including his adorable grandpa. It was one of the happiest, biggest celebrations I’ve been a part of.

 

 

6. In June, I headed to Baltimore to depart for Special Olympics World Games. I blogged about the entire experience on the SOMO website, so I’ll just share the outtakes here. After an excited Sendoff, we filled the international terminal at BWI, where games of Uno and beach ball broke out. TSA probably would have been horrified under any other circumstances. Once we finally boarded our two planes, it was a pretty uneventful flight to our refueling stop in Ireland. I think everyone stayed awake during the last leg of our trip, and nearly every announcement was met with an enthusiastic “USA! USA! USA!”

We arrived in the Isle of Rhodes, where the local law enforcement promptly confiscated our passports. We got them back the next day, but it was still a little unsettling. Michele and I set up in our suite, only to discover abundant issues with getting online. We finally got that situation mostly figured out, after basically rearranging all of the furniture. I’m sure the maids hated us. Other things about Rhodes: you can’t flush the toilet paper, we bought the wrong kind of electrical converters, there are no guardrails, pedestrians never have the right-of-way, a desert does not make for a good golf course, and it is a terrible idea to pack 600 Special Olympics athletes into a seaside discothèque. All part of international travel, I guess. But man, it was gorgeous.

After a few days of training, we took a 16-hour overnight boat ride to Athens. I am pretty sure by the time we got to the other side of the Aegean Sea, nearly everyone would have offered to shell out the extra $100 or so it would have cost to get a plane ticket instead!

The Opening Ceremony was incredible. There’s nothing on Earth like walking into a stadium full of people cheering for you, and seeing the athletes’ faces light up in awe was probably one of the most emotional moments of my life. It all felt like slow motion. The trip out of OC, however, was not so delightful, and I actually feared that someone would be trampled. If Greeks are one thing, organized is not it.

Back at the hotel the next morning, Michele and I were relieved to learn we had a driver and interpreter to split between the two of us. However, the hotel would not clear him to drive up to the front door, so we had to walk down the drive past the gate. It was hot, so we were ready to enjoy a nice mist from the sprinklers, when suddenly we realized … they were irrigating their lawn with recycled sewer water. You have never seen two PR ladies loaded down with cameras run across a parking lot so fast! After a long, exhausting run-around trying to get our media credentials, we were pretty much deflated, so our interpreter took us to a Greek fast-food place, where we had heavenly gyros. Eventually, they stopped caring about media credentials, which made that first day all the more frustrating. The rest of the time there, we at “cheese rolls” which are basically a buttered hoagie loaf with one long piece of cheese. If you were lucky, there was also a slice of meat. The bocce team started hoarding lunchmeat from their hotel to take to the venue. I resolved to never complain about a SOMO turkey sandwich again.

Needless to say, between the long hours, long commutes and sketchy internet connections, I wasn’t getting much sleep. Our room only included one bed and one cot, and I knew I’d be sleeping hard, so I took the cot. Which was fine, except for the occasional collapse that startled me awake. I was happy if I  got four hours, so I used the time in the van to catch a few extra minutes when I could. I became very good at falling asleep the moment the motor started, or, as I like to call it, carcolepsy. I worried that I was becoming so conditioned to this that I’d never be able to drive myself anywhere again, but luckily I reverted back.

Greek people really like to argue. Or converse loudly with angry faces and lots of exaggerated arm gestures. It stressed Michele and me out, but they kept saying it was normal. The craziest was one day when our driver, Dimitris, was trying to get us to the softball and cycling venue. We arrived at the gate and he was told he had to drop us off there (basically like two arena-sized parking lots away). I was on the phone with a reporter, and Michele insisted we could walk. Dimitris said no, then continued to argue with the gatekeeper. The gatekeeper slid the van door open, so we got out. Dimitris motioned for us to get back in, then made a phone call. Our interpreter, Andreas, screamed into view on his moped, then joined the loud talking with arm gestures. Michele tried insisting again that we could walk, to which Dimitris and Andreas both looked at us and shouted “NO!” Then a taxi showed up with a couple who were trying to get to the badminton venue for their son’s match. The taxi driver was also told he had to drop them off, so they got out. Andreas and Dimitris continued talking loudly and making wild arm gestures. Suddenly, the couple from the taxi got into our van, the door slammed shut, and we were moving. I was still on the phone with the reporter. I stared at Michele wide-eyed, trying to convey my thoughts (which were pretty much WTH?!). She shrugged and we made a wide loop around the parking lot on two wheels of the van before dropping off the couple from the taxi. I finished my call, and Dimitris dropped us off in front of the softball venue.

Okay, I’m taking up too much space here, so let me wrap this up. One of the best parts of the trip was on the plane ride home, finally descending, when a pillow fight broke out. Exhausted, cranky, ready to be home, and our athletes can’t pass up the chance to have fun. Despite all of the challenges, they reminded me that the trip was well worth it. I have a ton more pictures I could upload, but it's easier if you just click this link.

5. I had been wanting to go to NYC to visit Doug since he first moved there eight years ago. After his aneurism, it became even more important. And now that he has a posh apartment in Harlem, it was the perfect time. We visited art museums, shopped, drank wine and walked so much, I thought my feet would fall off. We saw the Statue of Liberty, Top of the Rock, Stone Street and the High Line. We went to Sister Act. I pretended I was a local and followed Doug and Roldan around a supermarket. Roldan cooked butter chicken and let us share his birthday gift certificate to one of the most elegant French restaurants in town. I’m sold on the city, and I’m determined to get back there at least every-other year. Oh, and I even managed to make the bus trip back to the airport all by myself.

4. Somehow, Kimmie and Ryan are the first of my friends to realize that the only way to get married is on a beach. Mary, Mark and I made the long journey down to Tybee Island with a quick overnight stop in Nashville so  Annaleigh and Shane could follow us. I had booked a four-bedroom house for the Marys, Leslies, Nancys and myself and Jeremie, but a few days before the trip we learned that it was under construction. I was pretty excited at the solution I negotiated: an upgraded house! When we arrived, we spent a good 10 minutes just wandering around and exclaiming “Wow!” Within a few minutes, we had spotted a pod of dolphins just off the back deck. Once the rest of our party found us, we headed to a popular restaurant, where, for some unfathomable reason, there are baby alligators that you can feed. I overcame my fear and posed for a few pictures, then swiftly walked to safer ground. We spent the morning of the wedding playing in the ocean, where baby Owen experienced saltwater for the first time. We showered and headed back to the beach for the wedding, which was so understated and beautiful, just like Kim. The food was delicious, again, and we overtook the dance floor, again. Jeremie had a meeting in Chicago with his new job, so he flew down and met us at the beach house right after the reception, where ¾ of the guests moved for an after-party. Sunday, the wedding party all piled their luggage into the house and we spent another afternoon on the beach. It was just like we had dreamed of in college – the first of many family beach vacations. In all, 17 of us sat down for dinner together and 15 of us slept there that night (even Julie’s boyfriend Rick came!). Once again, anyone who says that being in a sorority is like buying your friends has clearly not met my friends. We closed out the weekend with brunch at Mrs. Wilkes’ Dining Room in Savannah.

3. In October, I celebrated my birthday in three cities for 10 days. Andthen I learned that I would finally be able to move to St. Louis. And then the Cardinals won the World Series.

2. Thanksgiving marked my first official holiday with Jeremie. Upon arriving at his grandparents’ house in Kansas City, we were put to work, making a pumpkin cheesecake and deviled eggs. I was glad they found a couple of things that I was able to help with, since I am completely intimidated by their cooking! We celebrated the actual meal at Jeremie’s aunt’s house, where her boyfriend proposed! It was an eventful day, and fun to be a part of. That evening, we headed to the Plaza, where we watched Eric Stonestreet from Modern Family flip the switch to the famous lights. Friday, we picked up the kids and headed to Crown Center for ice skating. Then we did a little shopping before watching the Mayor’s Christmas tree lighting. Saturday, we did a little more shopping, then ate pizza and headed to see the Muppet Movie. We were proud to see that both kids enjoyed it.

1. All of that, and I’m still not done for the year. Friday, I will leave for Spokane, where the entire Steward clan will spend Christmas together. I’m sure it will hold its own set of stories, but I’ll save that for another time.

So, did I accomplish my resolution? Maybe not exactly. My bank account shrank from all the travel, and I may have a few more laugh lines around my eyes. But I would say I grew in friends, wisdom and happiness, and I can’t imagine much there’s more valuable than that.

*I realized when I got to the end that I had written the 11 in descending order, like No. 1 was going to be the best, but then I wrote them in chronological order. I considered switching them, but decided against it. Even if each event didn’t top the previous one, my year got better with each one.

Change is good

Remember when I said I’d wanted to live in St. Louis since I was a kid? Remember when I also said I don’t like change? This is, I suspect, the reason I’ve been alternating between euphoric excitement and all-out panic the past few weeks.

It’s also probably the reason I’ve started waking up in the middle of each night – sometimes sweating, sometimes certain there’s someone in my apartment, sometimes hanging onto a dream that I was cuddling with a puppy. Always annoyed.

The lack of continuous sleep plus the mounting items on my to-do lists scattered through my office, apartment and iPhone has me feeling like a college kid during finals week again. My stomach is in knots (or maybe that’s the four consecutive meals of pizza last weekend), I can barely focus, and there’s a strong urge to curl up in my bed and hide for a few days.

Honestly, the thought of everything I want being within reach is terrifying.

It’s pretty crazy to think back to where I was two years ago. I remember my last Facebook status of 2009 being something like: Good riddance, 2009. Things are still far from perfect, but 2011 has been one of the best years of my life. It took a lot of change to get here. I will get through this next set of changes, I will adjust, and hopefully it will be everything I’ve dreamed of. (Figuratively, not those dreams of people breaking into my apartment. Oh gosh, now I’m thinking about someone breaking into my new place in STL. Must stop.)

Change is good. Change is good. Change is good. I’m going to keep repeating that to myself every time I start to freak out.

Dream Come True

Last night, I dreamed I was at a coworker’s house. She does live in the country, but in my dream, her house backed up to a beautiful, golden field of wheat. The sun was shining as a worker groomed the field. Then a second person showed up and started setting up white chairs. Suddenly, my throat tightened up. I asked Megan what was going on. She informed me that there was going to be a wedding in her backyard, and that she was sorry. I ran across her porch, terrified. When I turned around, I saw my ex at the other end of Megan’s house, dressed in a tuxedo. I ran around the corner before he could see me, and ran into a few of my sorority sisters. What was going on? Why were they there? Why was everyone betraying me?

Then I was across a creek from the house. There was a child floating down the creek, and I was afraid that the child was not okay. Some men in tuxes – I’m guessing groomsmen – rushed toward the child. I turned back to the house and screamed. “Don’t you see this is not okay? Don’t you see this isn’t what’s supposed to happen?” A crowd of people in dresses and suits turned their back to me and moved toward an altar.

I have vivid dreams fairy often, especially around times when there are big changes coming up in my life. However, this is the first dream that has turned out to be true once I woke up. Well, not the child in the creek, and not the betrayal by Megan and my friends. But still, I could hardly believe it when I learned I had dreamed part of it correctly.

I know some people are tired of hearing about this. If that’s you, then I advise you to stop reading.

I know it’s hard to understand how this can still affect me so deeply, considering all the good things I have in my life right now. Believe me, I’m still excited about them. Somehow these two parts of my life – past and present – are not mutually exclusive.

I know I have to let go and move on. I’m trying.

I know that everyone has pain, and that the pain is supposed to get better over time. But in moments like this, it still feels fresh.

I know he’s not the man I married anymore. But that doesn’t make me miss him, or his family, or his friends any less. It doesn’t cool the burn of my memories.

I knew this was coming. I didn’t want to know when, because I couldn’t face it. And I’ll be honest; I was hoping it wouldn’t happen. Maybe that makes me a terrible person.

Every time I end up in this place, I feel like a failure all over again. I look back at the choices I’ve made and wish desperately that I could change them. When you get married, God makes two into one. When you get divorced, there’s no clean break, because you’re ripping two halves apart. Some experts say you can’t really get divorced in God’s eyes, but that you remain married anyway. Every time I think seriously about moving forward with someone else, part of me feels ashamed and dirty. I’ll never understand how he was able to get past all of this so quickly.

I know I should be clinging to God tonight. But I have to think there’s a reason this happened on a weekend when I’m alone. So if you don’t hear from me again for a couple of days, just know that I’m doing the best I can.

You Can Find Me In St. Louie

Things that are from St. Louis:
- Gateway Arch
- Nelly
- Toasted ravioli
- Ice cream cones
- Budweiser
- David Freese
- And, coming in January 2012, ME!

For as long as I can remember, I've wanted to live in St. Louis. As a kid growing up in Southeast Missouri, it was the home to Six Flags, the Magic House and the Cardinals. Once we moved to Jeff City, it was the midpoint on the way to visit relatives, where we would stop at shopping malls and go through the Krispy Kreme drive through so I could have donuts all week. I remember looking out the window as we drove through Lake Saint Louis, trying to decide which house I would buy someday. I went to college, and somehow I ended up in a group of friends primarily from St. Louis. It seems the city has always been calling my name.

Naturally, following my divorce, this seemed like a logical move. However, I wasn't ready for quite such a big change yet, so I moved back to Jeff City, where I could keep my job and be close to family. Earlier this year, with my lease's end approaching, I asked about working from our St. Louis office. Unfortunately, at the time, our office was full and they had just signed a five-year lease. Plus, there are some elements of my job that work best while based in the JC office. I had resigned myself to the fact that I'd have to leave, and I was job hunting pretty intensely.

It's a little weird to be working in a place you don't think you'll be for long, and the job search was pretty discouraging. I found myself a little bored and uninspired. I just wanted to get this figured out. Then, I received this Bible verse and explanation (thanks Katie Rae!):

When darkness overtakes the godly, light will come bursting in . . . Such people will not be overcome by evil circumstances . . . They do not fear bad news; they confidently trust the Lord to care for them. They are confident and fearless and can face their foes triumphantly." Psalm 112:4, 6-8

God wants to use you right where you are. His guidance isn’t just for your next big decision—he had a purpose in placing you where you are at this moment. Look at your current circumstances as a calling from God. Serve and obey him in the little things today. God has placed you here for "such a time as this."　

That made me stop and give thanks for my job. It's not that I ever wanted to leave; I just didn't think I had a choice anymore if I wanted to move my life forward. I grabbed onto my next big project, approached it with joy and was thrilled with my results.

Then, a few weeks ago, I overheard something about our St. Louis office building being bought out. I inquired, but it didn't change the parts of my job that need to stay in JC. Then, a week later, my team member and friend, Ashley, told our boss that she would be leaving at the end of the year to stay at home with her baby. Suddenly, I was scrambling to rearrange Ashley's and my job duties and writing a proposal that outlined how I would maintain a presence in the HQ office from afar. I turned in my proposal on Wednesday. It was accepted that Friday. Today, it all became official.

I won't start in the new St. Louis office until Jan. 16 because we'll have to hire and train Ashley's replacement, but it is so nice knowing what my next step is going to be. It is really crazy to see the way it all worked out. I knew God had a plan, but I had no idea it would come together so perfectly. It was truly an exercise in trusting Him and being patient.

So, it turns out there are two big St. Louis things to celebrate this week. If you care to join me, get up and SHAKE YA' TAILFEATHER! 

What's this? A new post?

They say to write a successful blog, you should post a few times a week. When I started this blog, my goal was to post once a week. I think it’s safe to say I’ll never get paid for this blog. And that’s okay.

I’ve thought about what I should write over and over. Between the crazy schedule I’ve been keeping, exhaustion, writer’s block, confusion and sometimes sadness, I just haven’t been able to figure out what direction to take. So today, I decided I’ll just sit down and write and see what comes out.

This summer has been crazy. I’ve been to Kansas City, Baltimore, Rhodes, Athens, Chicago, New York City and St. Louis. And next weekend I’m going to Georgia. I’ve learned that, while I absolutely LOVE travel, I also really enjoy time at home. My house becomes increasingly messier with every trip. My goals of cleaning out my closet and moving all my files over to my laptop so I can sell my desktop keep getting pushed back. Every time I have a weekend at home, I end up hiding under my favorite blanket on the couch with a glass of wine and some mindless program on the TV.

I guess the point here is that I’ve learned I need balance. I need to schedule more “nothing” weekends so that I can keep my life (and my apartment) nice and tidy. The other thing about being gone so much is that I’ve really dropped my spiritual pursuits. I had three books I was going to read, and I got about 20 pages into each one and gave up. My relationship with God has been pretty stagnant. I know he’s there and I talk to him daily, but I know I’m not living life in a way that will bring me any closer to him. I need that – I can literally feel myself struggling when I don’t put energy into that relationship.

Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight. – Proverbs 3:5-6

I came across that verse three times in one day this week. Think he’s trying to tell me something? As much as I want to rush my life forward, move to St. Louis, get married, start a family, etc., I know I need to wait, and his answers will reveal themselves. So I’m trying to be patient. It’s no coincidence that the song that keeps playing in my head (again, missing from playlist.com) is JJ Heller’s “Control.”

I mentioned earlier that I’ve had some pretty sad moments this summer. In one last effort to extend kindness and restore some semblance of friendship with my ex, I was asked never to contact him again. That hurts like I can’t even describe. It makes me feel like I’ve done something wrong, since this all came on with no explanation. And it makes it incredibly hard to continue to keep bitterness out of my heart. All I can do is pray for the strength to be kind, to let go, and to see that God’s opinion is the one that really matters.

Despite those sad moments, I’m struck with a realization: Maybe the reason I haven’t been blogging is that I have been mostly happy. Maybe I haven’t needed this narrative therapy as much as I used to. Maybe I’m moving on.

I’ll try to get back into a better pattern of blogging, if for no other reason than it helps me sharpen my writing skills. Here’s to hopefully happier topics.

Special Olympics World Games

I'll be taking a little detour from this blog for the next few weeks. I am attending the 2011 Special Olympics World Games in Greece as the Assistant Director of Communications. The trade-off on getting this amazing experience is that I will be giving an inside perspective for all the Missouri fans back home! I'll be one of Missouri's bloggers on the SOMO website. I imagine I'll be posting almost every day. If you'd like to follow me, check out my temporary blog home: https://somo.org/sslpage.aspx?pid=780. I'll be back here once I'm back in the US and rested up!

I need help.

And not just because I've been neglecting my poor little blog.

No, I need help because I've been fueling my depression with fast food. Which is obviously not good for the whole losing-the-divorce-weight thing. I need to learn to cook. I don't like cooking, so I need to start very small.

So here's where I'm asking for help. I have mastered the PB&J, the grilled cheese, even the fried egg sandwich. It's time to get out from between two slices of bread. What's your favorite, easy recipe? Your go-to, I've-got-15-minutes meal? Bonus points if it's so easy it will fit in a comment on this blog, but I'll take longer recipes by email: mandi.steward@yahoo.com.

Thanks in advance. And now I'm going to be a good blog-friend by catching up on about a month's worth of posts. :)

Another K.O.

Why does this keep happening? I had a good weekend. I'm tired of the grief creeping up and knocking me out.

I visited a, um, rather enthusiastic church in town a few months ago. They were starting a series called "Fight for the Family" or something, and chose a very literal illustration to get their point across: Jesus and Satan in a large boxing ring in the middle of the sanctuary. Smoke, lights, people dressed up as demons sneaking through the crowd -- it was all too much for me (and frankly, I think part of the reason Christians get made fun of sometimes). Anyway, the crowd was starting to get into it when one lady from the other side of the room screeched, "GET OUTTA HERE, SATAN!" The rest of the congregation cheered. I sank down in my seat and tried to hold in my giggles.

I'm glad there are people who are so passionate. And I'm glad there's a place for them to come together and worship. It's just not for me. However, maybe I need to learn some courage from her. Maybe when I feel this coming on, I should stand up and tell Satan who's boss. Let him know I'm not afraid of him.

------ Abrupt change of subject ------

I forgot to include some explanation in my last post. It's actually the reason I chose the "truths" theme. I've recently had several people ask me about sharing such raw emotion on here. It's not that I'm brave to be so open with this stuff. It's that it helps me heal. I read what I write, I cry, I read it again, and keep doing this until it doesn't hurt anymore. I guess the other part of it is that I just really don't want anyone else to go through this. If me being vulnerable can help even one person, then it's worth it, and it makes my pain feel a little more worthwhile.

Well, and then there's the selfish part where sometimes I need some words of encouragement, and knowing there are people praying for me is comforting.

Hard to find a song to fit with this post (I refuse to have "Let's Get Ready to Rumble" on my playlist, even if it was playing during the actual church service.). I couldn't add my first choice, so here's a link to it, and my favorite lyrics below:

Everything that attaches
Someday falls apart
When the plan collapses
It can break your heart

Like a southbound train
This is a song for leaving
Don't you know the pain
It's a part of the healing
-Brett Dennen, "Song for Leaving"

Truths

DivorceCare wrapped up this week. I know a few of us were wondering what we'll do with our Wednesday nights now. No one said it, but I for one am a little nervous about "graduating" from this program. I feel like I took a lot away from it, but it was so nice having a weekly reminder that I'm not alone, and a group of people to bounce things off of when I was having a tough time. So, I decided to take a look at my life today. I was actually a little surprised by some of the things I found.

The truth is, I will probably always have some regret regarding the end of my marriage. And it may always hurt to hear about his new life, and to know that he doesn't want anything to do with me.

The truth is, God forgives me. And this experience has brought me closer to Him than I've ever been. I can't keep dwelling on  this; I have to move on and forgive myself.

The truth is, I know way more about love and marriage now that I did when I was married. I was telling Leslie recently, they really should have couples go through pre-marital counseling with other couples, rather than with their pastor. At least I feel like I'll really be prepared next time.

The truth is, this time has allowed me to really figure out who I am. That sounds really cliche, but being alone has helped me discover new music, food, friendships and places. I never would have done so much exploring if I were still married. I've taken on a "yes" attitude: Yes, I'll try that; Yes, I'll go there. I've got nothing to lose, and I've already gained so much. I want to be full of life.

The truth is, I'm seeing someone. And he's pretty great. For now, I'm keeping the rest of that to myself, but I will say that I'm grateful that he is so patient and understanding. He knows everything I write about on here and is willing to talk me through the pain or give me space whenever I'm hurting. And he's willing to wait until I know I'm ready for each next step.

The truth is, alligators are real. And punching them in the nose will not prevent them from eating you. (A joke for my fellow guests of Annaleigh's wedding. More on that extravaganza later).

The truth is, life is pretty good right now. I'm blessed.

And I'll find strength in pain
And I will change my ways
I'll know my name as it's called again
-Mumford & Sons, "The Cave"

Independence Bucket List

Lately I've been thinking I should pursue acting. Seems I've picked up the skill of being able to cry on command: in my cube, in my car, while cleaning my bathtub, in the middle of Target, while listening to Duffy's Rockferry album ... But then this song, although it made me cry, it gave me hope, too. Whatever happens, this is not the end of my life. As hard as it can be, and as much as I don't want to, I'm moving forward.

So, in the spirit of hope and moving forward, I've finally compiled my independence bucket list. It's by no means complete; I'm sure I'll think of more things about five minutes after I hit "publish."

Here we go. Things I want to be able to do on my own:
- Be able to cook dinner for myself at least once a week. Pasta dishes where you boil the pasta and heat the sauce do not count. Neither does salad from a bag, or grilled cheese.
- Explore a foreign city all by myself
- Shed my divorce weight
- Change a tire
- Paint a room
- Take a self-defense course. It’s not so much that I want to take the course by myself, but I figured saying I want to be able to take down a guy with my elbow needed a little explanation.
- Sew on a button (pathetic, I know)
- Go to a movie theater alone
- Change a diaper (also pathetic)
- Cook meat on a barbecue grill (I'm scared I'll start a fire)
- Figure out the HTML in my newsletter at work
- Move to a new city

Further suggestions are welcome. I'm not giving myself any kind of deadline, but I promise to blog as I complete things.

Living with Regret

I've struggled all weekend to figure out what to say here. Bear with me, as this is probably going to come out stream-of-consciousness style.

I'll start with something positive: My blog has a new look, complete with playlist! It pretty well lines up to all my old posts, although I doubt anyone but me will ever go back to an old post and fire up the corresponding song (also, the supply of Christian music on playlist.com is woefully inadequate). I often think about what song would be playing if my life were a movie, and I truly believe music can be healing, so I'm glad to finally incorporate music into my blog.

Okay, here comes the hard stuff. I've written a little bit about regret. About the many things I wish I'd done differently in my marriage and my separation. About how much I wish I could go back and change things. And about how I'm struggling to find the "right" amount of regret - an amount that's not letting satan take over my heart, but that still keeps me in check to avoid making the same mistakes. I'm still struggling, and I don't really have any wise words to pull myself through right now.

There are several people in my life right now who are going through, filing for, or thinking about divorce. This is really hard stuff to say one-on-one, and I know how much I resisted any advice like this when I was in the middle of a separation, so I'm posting it here. If you're in that situation, I'm happy to talk to you about it more, or you can pretend you never read this. But I hope you'll really think about it.

Divorce seems like a way out. It seems like a means to an end when it comes to pain. It seems like a way to protect yourself. Let me assure you, the pain does not stop once the papers are signed. Not only does it take your heart a very, very long time to heal, but that person will still hold the power to hurt you, intentionally or not. At the moment, I'm convinced he will always have that power, but I'm open to the idea that maybe he won't.

Divorce doesn't just make all your problems go away. It takes two to ruin a marriage, and if you don't work on whatever parts you contributed, the odds overwhelmingly say you'll fail again. Yes, it takes two to change, too, but wouldn't you rather put all that energy into an existing, years-long relationship than start off a new relationship with work to do? Whatever challenges you encountered in your first marriage will almost certainly surface again in marriage 2, 3, 4, etc. The only way to avoid getting your heart broken again and again is to face the challenges and deal with them.

Just in case I haven't been perfectly clear: If I had it to do again, I would not have chosen divorce. I can't begin to describe the pain, the loneliness, the emptiness, the hopelessness. I am grateful for the lessons I've learned, but again, I could have learned those while investing in my marriage. I'm pretty convinced that the only thing that could have saved us is a Christian counselor. If you're in this situation and need help finding someone, please let me know. I fiercely don't want anyone else to have to go through this.

A helpful tidbit I've learned in DivorceCare: God doesn't put us in marriages to make us happy. He puts us in marriages to satisfy His plan. It's our job to be obedient and work through the challenges. I used to justify that God didn't want me to be unhappy. Did I really think He'd give me a life with no pain? Or that every challenge didn't have a purpose?

I found out yesterday that my ex is engaged. My regret boiled over, scalding me and relegating me to a spot on my couch under a blanket for a good 15 hours. By a cruel twist of Facebook, their photos ended up in my news feed. And of course I looked at them -- all of them (don't judge me, you know you would have looked too). Friends, if ever there were a photo of your dreams being shattered, it is your ex-spouse down on one knee in front of another woman. No amount of time, space or healing could have made that moment any less painful. I still know his engagement speech to me, and it kept ringing in my ears. I wondered if he said the same things to her. I have a lot of opinions on his new relationship, but a) this isn't the place for them, and b) I guess it's not my business.

Thank you to everyone who responded to my desperate text message. And I'm sorry to those I know I snapped at. If for nothing else than a reminder to myself, I'll try to summarize your kind words below:

- I'm working through the pain now. All the tears are healing me so that I can have a baggage-free relationship later.
- Trust in the LORD with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding. - Proverbs 3:5
- Happiness is the best revenge because nothing drives people crazier than seeing someone have a good (expletive deleted) life.
- Some people shut down and stop fighting. I am not one of those people.
- Trust me in your times of trouble, and I will rescue you, and you will give me glory. - Psalms 50:15
- The first song on my playlist (Sara Evans "A Little Bit Stronger")
- The nights are the worst. Just get to tomorrow. (Indeed, I couldn't fall asleep until about 4 am, and even then, it was filled with nightmares. But I think I'll be able to leave the house today.)

I think the hardest thing now is that I feel like I've lost the chance to tell him how much I've changed. True, he's been ignoring my emails and texts for months now, but that's a hard reality to deal with. I just hope he doesn't end up hurt again.

2011 World Tour: San Diego

Last week kicked off my Eight States + Greece in Six Months travel marathon. A bit of background about this trip: Special Olympics has World Games every two years, alternating between summer and winter sports (just like the "ordinary" Olympics). This year, World Summer Games takes place in Greece. Each state is governed separately and sends athletes based on a national quota. Those athletes become Team USA. Coaches from across the country can apply for a position, and there's a support team that runs the behind-the-scenes stuff. I am lucky to hold one of the two communications slots on the suppport team. Each World Games year, Team USA converges for a Training Camp, where all the athletes and coaches get to meet each other, train a little and identify any challenges before heading to the main event. This year, Training Camp was in San Diego. (Okay, so maybe that was a lot of background.)

I headed to St. Louis on Saturday for a bridal shower and bachelorette for my fabulous friend, Erin. Since they had rented out hotel rooms for the evening, I figured it made the most sense to crash there and figure out transportation to the airport in the morning. This was all good in theory, until I got up at 6 a.m. Sunday and panicked because air travel makes me a little nervous. On top of that, I was responsible for escorting two athletes to San Diego.

I rushed to get ready and flew down to the Metro station. I was plenty early for the 7:25 train, but I wanted some sort of confirmation I was on the right side of the tracks. Evidently, my face was screaming "CONFUSED!!!" A gentleman I had seen in the hotel lobby told me as much, and I asked if this train would take me to the airport. He said yes. I exhaled.

The train arrived; we boarded. The gentleman asked where I was from, and we engaged in small talk on and off for the next few minutes. Then he told me that actually, there's some construction, so I'd need to get off at Union Station, then take a bus to the CWE, then catch a different train to the airport. He said he'd be doing the same thing, but getting off a few stops before me, and that I was welcome to tag along. I gave him a grateful smile. What would I have done if I hadn't met this nice man?

Oh, crap. Did I seriously just agree to follow a complete stranger, who is riding public transportation at 7:30 on a Sunday morning, away from the only way I know how to get to the airport? Am I just going to follow him anywhere? What happens when we go off course and I want to turn around? Where is he going to take me? When will someone notice I'm missing? I pulled my huge duffel bag a little closer and gave him another smile, nervous this time. Then I cursed myself for being so trusting and gullible.

We got to the first transfer point, and I did hear the train operator say something about getting off for the airport, so I followed the guy off the train. He offered to help me with my bags up a giant flight of stairs, but I declined. "It's not heavy, just awkward," I said, as I struggled to breathe. We got on the bus. I relaxed my grip on my bag. We got off, just like he said we would. I relaxed a bit more. By the time I lugged my stuff down another flight of stairs to wait for the train that would, indeed, take me to the airport, I was sweating in 35-degree weather.

Confident that I was out of danger, I sat on the final train right in front of the guy and hoped he interpreted my uneasiness as general travel nerves. I chatted him up a bit more and learned that his wife had passed away a few years ago, he works the night shift at the parking lot of the hotel, and his car was currently broken down. He had wanted to go to college, but hadn't made it. He has trouble with directions. He is engaged to a lady from Brazil, whom he met on a Christian dating site. Ahhh, there it is, I thought. Thanks, God, for putting him in my life today. My heart literally leapt. I made sure to thank him profusely before he got off at his stop (another 10-minute walk from his house). I got his name, too, so I can write the hotel and let them know what an honest, helpful employee they have. A smile was plastered on my face by the time I met Brock, Lucas and their families at the airport terminal.

I can ride the Metro to the airport (with the help of a guy I wasn't sure I trusted).

The rest of the trip out to San Diego was uneventful. I've written an entire post already, so I'll just give a quick recap of each day of Training Camp.

Sunday

This was Lucas’s first airplane ride, so I was glad it was smooth. We connected with the rest of Missouri’s delegates in Kansas City before reboarding. The second leg was kind of long, but also pretty uneventful. Everyone was really excited and talkative at first, but by about an hour in, almost everyone was asleep.

We made it to the hotel, where the athletes jumped right in with Healthy Athletes TRAIN screening. Then it was time for dinner. The room was decorated beach-party style. We enjoyed guest speaker Rafer Johnson, who won a gold medal in the 1960 Olympics and helped start Special Olympics Southern California. The athletes all sat with their teams rather than their states, and they were encouraged to bond as Team USA. Several rounds of “USA! USA! USA!” helped ease that right along. Then it was time for the Torch Run, and our own Lucas got to run in with an officer from San Diego PD!

Monday

I must depart from the account of Training Camp to show you maybe the coolest thing California has to offer: a cart escalator. Okay, so apparently there's a Target in St. Louis that has one of these, but Michele and I stood there with our jaws hanging to our knees, then quickly both whipped out our cell phones for pictures. *Sigh.* I am such a Midwesterner.

Back to camp. I started off the day at cycling. They were at this cool venue called Fiesta Island, which is a big park for fishing/kayaking/cycling/walking/dogs. I spent most of my time in the back of the lead van, hanging out the open door and shooting pictures while I kept an eye on the five stronger cyclists to make sure they all stayed together. These guys are really good, and most of them have big personalities, which made them fun to be around. One guy repeatedly asked to see my socks. I have no idea why.

Next, I headed to the golf course. It’s actually right by the hotel where we stayed. I immediately found Mike and Jeff from Missouri – great to see familiar faces! I was able to get pictures of all the golfers without getting nailed by a golf ball (although I guess one guy nearly took me out) or kneeling in goose poop (all over one of the holes). One of the guys had been doing pretty well but not hitting the ball like he wanted. While I was watching, he finally got the hit he wanted … and landed in the bunker. He was happy anyway. 

Monday evening, we had a fashion show. It was really fun to see all the cool stuff Team USA will be wearing. The cyclists probably have the most professional looking outfits, but golf is by far the flashiest. Check out the Loudmouth pants Jeff was modeling! There were two beauty queens on hand to escort the athletes, which they loved (that's Brock on the far right).



Tuesday

I spent Tuesday all over the SDSU campus. It is absolutely gorgeous – palm trees, flowers, valley/hill views. I took a quick walking tour to familiarize myself with the layout, then headed to softball. Got a few pictures of them practicing catching, and then they wanted to take a break so told me to catch up with them after lunch at the batting cages. Next I headed to bocce but got there right as they were eating lunch. I hung out with them for a bit and listened to their nutrition session. They have an athlete who has lost 66 pounds! She is very well spoken on portion size.

After that, I went back to softball, but somehow managed to show up in the last 10 minutes of their practice again.  They let me get into the batting cage with them. I crouched down beside the coach, who was throwing up balls for them to swing at. It was actually kind of terrifying but produced great results. I wish I could have been there longer.

Tuesday night, everyone went to the SDSU baseball game. Because of traffic from a soccer game (Mexico vs. somebody … who watches soccer?!), we missed the first pitch. (Seriously, traffic was so bad that the skycam was covering it and it took up at least three minutes on the local news.)  However, Team USA made up more than half of the audience which was really cool to see. Pretty much every time they shot to the crowd on the jumbotron, it was some of our athletes dancing. I hope the baseball players could feel the love from our athletes. This athletic department has been amazing in sending out their teams to train with ours, so it’s nice to be able to support them as well. Below, proof that the two communications ladies did spend some time without a camera in front of their faces.



Wednesday

Wednesday, I had the car to myself, and I managed to navigate the California freeway with no incidents. Well, unless you count taking the wrong exit and then having to complete an entire cloverleaf to get back on track. I hear I'm not the only one who made that mistake, though. I swear, the roads are just confusing.

I spent most of the day at SDSU again, catching a few last photos to fill in what we were missing. The distance runners on the track team were competing in an Amazing Race-style scavenger hunt, so I tried to video that, except then I realized they are runners. So that lasted about five minutes, and then I frantically headed toward the last station to get some of the teams as they received their last clue.

Wednesday evening, we had a Greek-themed closing ceremony. Olympic softball player Amanda Freed spoke, and we got to see some pictures of the Isle of Rhodes, where we'll be spending Host Town before the Games. And then the dance. Oh, the dance. These athletes know how to let loose. Should you dare enter the dance floor, you'll be sucked in and forced to drop all inhibitions. It looks a little something like this:

Thursday
We had to meet in the lobby at 3:30 am to catch a bus for the airport. It looked a little something like this:

We made it to the airport, then to St. Louis, then to my car, then I somehow mustered enough energy to drive home. As soon as I dragged myself inside, though, I face-planted onto my couch. And didn't move. For three days.

Weeks like these remind me why I love my job so much. Seeing these athletes grow, make new friends and experience new things ... it just blows me away. They're worth every late night.

If you've read this far, you should follow Team USA on Facebook! http://www.facebook.com/SOTeamUSA

03.18.06

I had the misfortune of walking into Panera this week during Daffodil Days. And of course, the lady standing there selling them was the lady who sold me 500 daffodils five years ago. I rushed past her, eyes downcast, hoping she wouldn't recognize me or even ask if I'd purchase a daffodil. I was so successful, I managed to stuff the pain into the shell of my breadbowl and toss it in the trash when I was done.

They're still pretty.

Hard to think about where I was five years ago today. I wish I could go back and warn this girl how hard it would be. I wish I could tell her to rely on God, not her husband. I wish I could tell her that her marriage depends on it. I wish I could tell her everything's going to be okay, but only if she listens closely. I wish I could tell her all her dreams were about to come true. But that's not how it happened.

I can tell you why my marriage failed. I can paint a picture that takes all the blame off me. Maybe even makes me a cautionary tale. And since this is the internet, you'd most likely believe me. But that wouldn't be the truth.

The truth is, my marriage failed because I didn't trust and rely on God. I didn't put Him first. I tried to control my life on my own. I put all my worth in my husband's approval of me. I thought he could satisfy me. THIS is where I'm a cautionary tale.

I've learned a lot about God and love and marriage since getting divorced. Pretty sad that this is what it took to get me here, but at least I'm here. I've learned that your priorities are supposed to go: God, Husband, Children, Other Stuff. Pretty sure mine were something like: Husband, Job, Other Stuff, God. No wonder it failed. I placed so much importance and pressure on him, there was no way he could live up to it. I'm not going to say he's blameless - he did a lot of things wrong and caused a lot of pain, too. But if I had truly been turning to God with that pain, well, maybe things would be different now. Instead, every time he hurt me, I withdrew from him, until eventually the pain was so intense that I couldn't stand to be around him.

I was dead inside. I was numb. I was completely closed off. I just wanted the pain to stop, and since I still based all my feelings around my husband, I rationalized that cutting him off would cut off the pain, too. I take back my earlier statement - maybe I wish I could talk to THAT girl. I could teach her a thing or two about real pain.

Here's the thing: If you're married ... God did that on purpose. He meant for you to be married. To that person. If it's hard, that's on purpose, too. Nothing is too big for Him. If it's too big for you, give it to Him. Don't take it upon yourself to try to fix it. All He wants is for you to go to Him.

Did you know that 76 percent of second marriages fail? I will NOT be a part of that statistic.

Mandisa - "Stronger"
'Cause if He started this work in your life
He will be faithful to complete it
If only you believe it
He knows how much it hurts
And I'm sure that He's gonna help you get through this

Happy anniversary.

I Can Complete a 5k

I'll begin this post with an apology for not updating more often or getting this out sooner, along with a thank you for the support following my last post, which is how I feel like I always begin. With that out of the way, here's my 5k story.

My mom and I arrived at the Polar Bear Strut, got checked in and oogled our new event shirts. Then I found out that I was currently the top fundraiser, the prize for which was a small flatscreen TV. Good way to start the day.

Then we had to walk a LONG way up a BIG hill to the start line. Seemed a little counterproductive.

The race was off, and we held back to let all the runners out of our way. Part of the route went along a lane of Hwy 54, so that was pretty interesting.

Before we could even see the turnaround point, the guy in the lead passed us going back. Unbelievable.

There were some killer hills on this course -- seriously. I think the usual record for a 5k is somewhere around 18-19 minutes, and the record for this course is around 20 minutes. I am fully using that as a crutch, thankyouverymuch.

We entered the home stretch, and I noticed that the ladies behind us with their dog were creeping up on us. Then I realized their dog was a greyhound. So I decided we HAD to beat the greyhound. (Can't imagine it makes a difference if it was a mini-greyhound.)

Then my mom dropped her earmuffs. Crap! I picked them up for her and trotted forward, staying in front of the dog.

Then we reached what I thought was the finish line, and we were told we had to make a loop around the parking lot. Shoot. My mom slowed down, so I shared my new goal with her. I believe I detected an eye roll, but she picked up pace again.

Then we reached what I thought was the finish line, and we were told we had to loop around another part of the parking lot. Seriously? Torture.

But we made it. In under an hour - 53 minutes to be exact. And we beat the greyhound. :)

Turns out someone had walked up to registration with $100 more than me, so I lost that TV, but I still have the satisfaction of knowing I raised a good chunk of money for the athletes I love so much.

I was embarrassingly sore afterward, so I've gained a whole new level of admiration for runners. It felt great, though. Even better was knowing I CAN.

Click here for a picture of my mom and me at the beginning of the race.

Thank you again to everyone who donated to my cause!

Dear Lord,
Please take this pain away. It crushes me. I don't know what to do with it any more. I'm trying, I really am. I don't understand why I get my hopes up that he'll finally hear me. I don't know why I keep thinking he'll realize that it is possible to exist in each other's lives. I don't know why I keep hoping he'll acknowledge that we did have something - we were married. I don't know why it still feels like he has control over me. I don't know how to keep being nice when he gives me nothing in return. I can't sleep. I can't get anything done. I know this time is supposed to hurt and I know you have a plan, but please, help me let go.
Amen.

Setbacks

I've been learning a lot about control over the past several months. It seems every time I think I'm getting ahead of the pain, it catches back up with me. Every time I think I'm getting my life back together, God gives me a gentle push and reminds me this isn't happening on my schedule, but His.

The past two weekends in St. Louis have been great. When I stop and think about my group of college friends, I am always amazed at how we came to be. I am so, so lucky to still be close with these women. We celebrate together, we cry together, we struggle together, we laugh together. One of the "benefits" of my divorce is that I've grown closer with almost every one of them, and my love and respect for this group has grown immensely. It's enough to make me want to create a cheesy slideshow set to Bon Jovi music.

Then I come down off the high of the weekend's bridal shower, dinner with boyfriends and fiances, down time with Leslie and meeting baby Owen, and I realize that my body can only go for so many days without having a day off. And apparently that number of days is up. I wake up, again, to a sore throat. And I'm sure that, again, it will fade after a few hours, but I'm just sick of it, so I stay home. My mom says it's probably sinus drainage and scolds me for not resting one out of every seven days as intended.

A day off is such a great thing. I tend to take full advantage, not accomplishing much more than taking a shower. It's restorative. It gives my body a chance to catch up and brace for another busy week. However, inevitably that free time leads to dealing with the pain I've kept stuffed down, hoping I was done with it.

I finished The Art of Racing in the Rain today. I can't pass up a dog book, and this one has been on my list for a while. The book is great - I'd recommend it to any dog lover. It's written from the dog's perspective, which makes it especially endearing. But when I got to the last page, I found myself crying for all the wrong reasons. I miss my dogs. I haven't seen them since October, and I'm not certain I'll ever get to see them again. It seems silly to be so upset over dogs, but they were the first dogs that were truly mine. I raised them and fell in love with them and took care of them. You could say it's like I'm mourning their death, but that's not it at all. I know they're out there, and knowing that but not being able to see them is even harder.

And then my daily DivorceCare email was all about self-forgiveness. I am really struggling with this and have been for a while. I have so much regret inside me. I know there's nothing I can do to change what happened, and I know that God forgives for all my sins, but I can't seem to find the balance between forgiving and forgetting. I think I'm afraid that if I forgive myself and let all that junk go, I'll forget the lessons I've learned. I also keep wondering if it's really time to give up for good and move on. I know that dwelling on this is not good for me either, but I just can't seem to get past it.

So I had a couple of really tough hours today, and actually, my throat did not feel better. I guess I needed today for a more reasons than one.

Thankfully, donations came pouring in for my Polar Bear Strut (www.somo.org/mandisteward) right around the time of my freakout. Being able to focus on something good helped get me out of my funk. Not to mention made me feel very loved. I know God is taking care of me. And hopefully the times I have to struggle like I did today will continue to come further apart.

I want to complete a 5k (or, Why I love my job)

Eventually, I'll get around to compiling my list of Things I Want To Do (different from a bucket list since they all have to be about independence). While I'm working on that list, what's the most difficult thing you've ever done on your own? Any ideas for things that would help me with my independence project?

For now, I'm focused on one thing on my list: I want to complete a 5k. Notice I said complete, not run. I am not a runner - I actually hate running. However, I am a pretty good walker, and my family loves to take hikes, so a walking division seems like a good goal. Maybe someday I'll work up to running, but for now I just want to know I can survive the distance.

I've done the Polar Plunge a couple of times, but I've never done the Polar Bear Strut. It's a 5k the morning before the Plunge at Lake of the Ozarks, and it seemed like a logical choice. Since it's in the middle of winter and the course is really hilly, it makes the fact that I'm walking a little less lame. I'll be doing the Strut next Saturday, and I'm really excited to feel the sharp wind on my cheeks and take the cool air into my lungs. As much as I complain about working out, I do actually like the tingling feeling you get in your legs after a long walk, and there's something almost rebellious about exercising outside in the winter. Take that, Mother Nature.

However, most of all, I'm excited because I'm doing this for some of the most amazing people I've met over the past five years: the athletes of Special Olympics Missouri. I often have a really hard time describing why I have such a passion for my job and what the athletes have brought to my life. So tonight, I'll share a story of one of the moments that keep me hooked.

(Mood music to enhance your reading experience)

This past summer, we had Special Olympics National Games in Lincoln, Nebraska. It was an incredible week with so many powerful moments. There are a ton of memories that I'll treasure for years -- Team Missouri's fans were named the Super Fans of the Games; our softball team was so good that they were defaulted gold medals because there was literally no competition for them; our young flag football team overcame the odds to win the national title; and I watched dozens of my friends reach their personal bests, earn medals and make their families proud.

If I had to choose one moment that really exemplifies Special Olympics, it would be from one of our powerlifters, Nick. Nick is a little shy, but his face always lights up when someone talks to him. So in the few years I've known him, I've always made a point to say hi when I see him. We only had two powerlifters at National Games (our other one, Rob, is quite charismatic as well), so everyone knew them.

A little background: Powerlifting was held in a theater on campus. Both of our guys did the bench press and the dead lift. And then they're done. All their training comes down to two lifts. Luckily, in scoring they also get a combination score, so they have the chance for a total of three medals.

I didn't get a chance to watch Nick lift, so I couldn't miss his awards. The theater was packed with cheering fans, which is such a cool atmosphere that there's no way I can convey it here. All I can say is that Special Olympics fans are the best. Our athletes are treated like celebrities. Each time a heat of powerlifters got their medals, the crowd exploded into cheers, giving them praise and attention that no one could have imagined.

Nick's division was up pretty early. As they walked out, we could see that Nick was going to be placed at the gold medal, so Missouri fans were immediately on their feet. Luckily, his family had seats that were front and center. As soon as Nick stepped onto the stand, a huge smile broke out across his face. When the gold medal was placed around his neck, he threw his arms up into the air, victorious. He caught sight of his family and beamed even brighter. He looked out at the crowd, probably a bit overwhelmed for a split second.

And then.

Nick flexed his muscles. The crowd erupted. He struck a pose. The crowd howled. He struck another pose, and the entire audience was on their feet. Suddenly, the two other athletes on the stand figured out what was happening, and they simultaneously struck poses of their own. The three engaged in a full pose-off for a good two or three minutes before anyone could coax them off the awards stand. And the crowd loved it.

That, I thought, is what a champion looks like. That is the type of sports figure we should look up to. That is someone who deserved to milk that moment for all it was worth. That moment will be forever etched in my brain. Even now, my heart swells with pride and it makes me a little teary.

Nick ended up sweeping his division, winning all three gold medals. He was the talk of our dorm. It was early in the week, so everyone wanted to see the medals. Each night, our coaches would all gather in a conference room to run down the day's events. That night, we were in the middle of our meeting when we heard this clank-clank-clank from down the hall. We all knew what it was, so the room fell silent. Nick was about three steps past the window into the conference room when he realized we were all staring at him. He turned, almost in slow motion, and held up his three gold medals as this sly smile crept across his face. We all cheered, again.

It's hard for me to describe the way Special Olympics makes me feel, but I'll say this: it's addictive. I get to witness these moments of greatness. For just a second, the world stops for our athletes. They own it. To see this for a group of people who are often ignored, avoided or ridiculed is simply incredible. It's a happy place, a place where everyone is celebrated and accepted. And that includes me, too -- I won't pretend there aren't benefits for me. Our athletes are the stars, but a quick hug or a high five tells me that they're glad I'm there. When I see an athlete seek me out from across the room, I'm reminded that they want friendship more than almost anything. When they show me their medals, I feel like I've won, too.

If you've read this far, I'm hoping you might be willing to help me make more moments like this happen. Volunteers are the greatest resource of Special Olympics, so please let me know if you'd like to check it out for yourself. Or, if you'd like to contribute to my Polar Bear Strut, you can make a quick, secure donation at www.somo.org/mandisteward.

Nick, center, posing with the other athletes in his division

Nick showing off his loot

I spent my nights at National Games writing the team blog. If you'd like to read more about the week, click here.

And don't forget to send me some independence challenges!

I can make soup from scratch

We had a carry-in lunch last week, so I decided to try this soup my mom has made a couple of times. The last time she made it, she said it only took "a few minutes" and I foolishly believed her and decided to leave it until just before I left for work to prepare. Turns out a few minutes is more like an hour and a half for a novice chef like myself. In the end, it was pretty tasty. Below is a photo chronology of my adventure, and the recipe is at the bottom.

Chopping the onion with my new knife on my new cutting board.

I suddenly realized I didn't have a whisk, so I settled for the attachment from my mixer, which was not exactly comfortable.

And then I realized I forgot to check my catch-all drawer, where a real whisk was waiting.

Chopping baby carrots since I don't have a veggie grater.

Only I can manage to spill broccoli all over the counter and onto the floor when I cut open the bag. Shoot.

Starting to look yummy!

Shoot. Can someone please explain how I was supposed to get the hot mixture into the blender without spilling it all over my stove?

Love the puree setting!

Shoot. This is a huge part of why I rarely cook. And I'll be honest: This sat in my sink for about four days.

The finished product: pretty and delicious! AND I got it into the crockpot without spilling!

Because cooking is a major thing I need to work on in my independence project, this is probably the first of  many food excursions I'll include on here. For each one, I'll include the recipe at the bottom, along with my own rating system.

Total time: 1.5 hours
Shoot level (meaning number of times I said "shoot," more commonly known as degree of difficulty): 18
Worth it? Yes, but only if you have some great bread to go with it. And I still prefer the real thing from Panera in a bread bowl.

Panera Bread Broccoli Cheese Soup

½ medium onion chopped
5 Tbs butter melted
¼ cup all-purpose four
2 cups half and half
2 cups chicken broth
8 oz broccoli coarsely chopped
1 cup shredded carrots
Salt and pepper
2 cups grated sharp cheddar cheese
¼ tsp ground nutmeg

Saute onion in 1 Tbs melted butter, set aside.  Using a wire whisk combine the remaining 4 Tbs melted butter and the flour in a large pot over medium heat.  Cook stirring frequently for about 4 minutes.  Slowly add the half-and-half, continue stirring.  Add chicken broth, whisking all the time.  Simmer for 20 minutes.  Add the broccoli, carrots and sautéed onion.  Cook over low heat until the veggies are tender, about 20 minutes.  Add salt and pepper to taste.  By now the soup should be thickened.  Pour in batches into a blender and puree.  Return the puree to the pot and place over low heat.  Add the grated cheese and stir until well blended.  Stir in the nutmeg.  Serves 4.