Happy Anniversary, STL!

Yesterday marked the one-year anniversary of my move to STL. I've gotta say, it's been a good year, totally validating my decision to move here.

A few things I love about living in the city (because I also love to make lists):

* My friends, obviously. We've had spontaneous game nights, we've celebrated birthdays and babies, we've grown together through Bible Study, we've met up for breakfast club. We don't see each other every weekend, but it is so good to know that there's almost always someone I can call to meet me for dinner.

* THE FOOD. From Food Truck  Fridays to The Hill to tapas restaurants to the Mexican joint within walking distance from my house to amazing pizza to all the restaurants in charming old buildings to billy goat chips . . . I never tire of eating here. Which explains why I gained five pounds within a month. I'm proud to say I've mastered a balance of eating delicious food and staying healthy, though, and I've shed those five pounds plus another 17 . . .

* Which is kind of a point in itself. Living in the city, you encounter a lot more health-conscious people. It was annoying at first, because I felt like the most overweight person my age, but it quickly motivated me to actually get off my butt and quit being so complacent about my weight.

* All the old houses and the varied architecture. The gingerbread houses in South City are the best.

* The parks! Seriously, no matter where you live, you can walk to a park. Or at least bike to one. I'm pretty sure I spent the entire spring season floating on a cloud over Tower Grove Park with daisies in my hair.

* Forest Park deserves its own section, because there's the Zoo and the Science Center and the History Museum and the trails and the Boathouse and Post-Dispatch Lake where you can rent paddle boats and kayaks, and there's the World's Fair pavilion and there's even a few things I haven't done yet like SLAM and  the Muny and ice skating.

* I finally understand why people from St. Louis would complain about the Columbia Mall in college. Seriously, I've never dressed better (although not at all claiming to be fashionable).

* Cardinals games! I love being able to think, "We should go to the game," and actually do it that same day. No advance planning, no taking off work, no hotel room.

* There's something going on every single weekend. I find it impossible to be bored in this city. I've been to a  food-tasting festival in the streets of Maplewood, watched a concert under the Arch and bundled up for Christmas lights at the Zoo, just to name a few.

* City Museum, because where else is it acceptable for grown adults to climb through an obstacle course made from re-purposed building supplies?

* I've been exceptionally lucky here. Through the STL Social Media Club, I got to go to a restaurant opening, where they comped our entire meal (I'm contractually obligated to recommend everyone eat at Vida in the Galleria). A Board member's business was celebrating their anniversary with a street party, where food trucks were serving up free food. And after I dropped my business card in at Noodles & Company, they treated my entire office to a free tasting lunch. Um . . . all of those things had to do with food again. Oh well.

* And finally, no more long-distance relationship! For the first 1.5 years of dating, J and I only saw each other every-other weekend. Being able to see him almost every day has obviously strengthened our relationship and helped us move forward. Plus, now I get to see the dog every day, too.

I think it's safe to say that my love affair with this city is just beginning. And also, that St. Louis doesn't suck. 

PS, Sorry this post doesn't have photos. I tried. Blogger and Picasa are not my friends right now.

Thirty.

It’s been said a hundred times: Thirty seems SO OLD until you get here.

If I think about where my mom was at thirty, or even where I assumed I’d be, my life seems totally off track. I always figured I’d be married, be done having kids and totally have the hang of running a household. At 24, I was well on my way, and then I essentially decided to start over. I could easily be allowing myself to have a nervous breakdown today because of how far away from those goals I am now.

However, I refuse. I am not old. I am not even halfway done living. And while I may not be married, I may not even reach my new goal of done having kids by 35 and my house is a mess 90% of the time, I have so much that I didn’t even realize was important.

Getting off track has really forced me to figure out who I am. I’m more confident in myself than I have been since I was a kid. I have deeper, more meaningful friendships. I’m living in such a way that I won’t have to look back in two years with a heart full of regret. I’m constantly self-aware and looking for ways to improve. I’m eating healthier. I’m spending more time on my faith. I’m living in the city I love. I can finance multiple vacations in one year without going into debt. I’m more compassionate.

During our girls’ trip this summer, Erin pointed out that THIS is the time when good things are happening. Three of my friends have just gotten dream jobs. A few more are getting married, and I believe they will reap rewards from waiting a little longer past college. And yes, some of my friends have one or two kids and are flourishing as moms. I know it will happen for me.

Why on earth do we think we have to have it all figured out before we hit thirty? If your twenties are all about finding yourself, then your thirties are all about being your awesome self.

So to everyone who’s about to join me in the fourth decade of life (okay, typing that was a mistake, it sounds horrible), get ready. Thirty is not the new twenty. It’s better.

Note: Did I write this entire post in an effort to avoid that nervous  breakdown? Possibly. At least I know myself well enough to know I needed to.  

The Path of Most Resistance

Nobody said it was easy / No one ever said it would be this hard
-Coldplay

My first night in St. Louis included a 2 am wake-up call by tornado sirens. Huddled in my 5’10” basement, I watched as water seeped in and puddled on the floor. Tears welled up in my eyes. I hate tornadoes, and this was hard. Two hours later, I woke up again to the sound of hail hitting my already rattling windows.

A couple of days later, after my landlord finally installed my dryer, I was relieved to catch up on laundry. I had gotten all caught up before moving my first load to the new apartment, and after more than two weeks, I was out of everything. I ran down to pull out my towels and discovered … they hadn’t dried at all. My landlord came back and realized that the gas line wasn’t hooked up. The next time I used it, it was leaking gas. Over the next several uses, I learned that only one setting actually has heat, and it doesn’t shut off automatically. I should mention this all spanned about three weeks. To date, I haven’t gotten totally caught up. I don’t mind doing laundry, but this is hard.

When we tried to install my cabinet shelves, they didn’t all fit. The first time I used my dishwasher, it didn’t drain all the way. My antique lock broke, and I locked myself out overnight. My bathroom mirror was up so high, I could only see from my chin up. The first time I used my oven, it set off the smoke alarm. I loved the idea of a newly renovated apartment, but this was hard.

Once I learned to sleep through the rattling of my bedroom windows and the traffic on my street (which had appeared desolate when we first viewed the place), I was awakened by a whole new set of noises. Creaks, pops and groans seemed to echo through my house at random, all night. By the time I realized it was caused by the heating duct work of two apartments snaking across my basement ceiling, I had worked myself up to the point where I was lucky if I got five hours of uninterrupted sleep. Sleep had become stressful. Even knowing it was the heater, and that the noises were worst right after the heater turned off, every noise sounded like someone was in my back stairwell.

I sat on my bed and had Jeremie open and close both the front and the back door so I’d know what it sounded like. It sounded nothing like the noises at night. I slept about three hours that night. After waking up every hour the next night, I called Jeremie at 3:45 am, desperate for any distraction. He remarkably woke up, even though he’s the heaviest sleeper I know. Fifteen minutes into our phone call, someone tried to break into his house. I’m not even kidding. He heard two loud bangs on his front door, his dog went crazy, and he called the cops. Nothing else happened, but the next day we saw two muddy kick marks on his door.

I’ve wanted – so badly – for YEARS – to live in St. Louis. But man, this is freaking hard.

I finally said out loud what I’d been embarrassed to admit. When I lie in bed and hear those noises, even though I know it’s just the heater, my tired mind goes to ridiculous places. Here’s some example dialogue: I wonder why the last lady moved out of this apartment after 20 years. Maybe she died. Maybe she died in this apartment. Maybe she was murdered. Maybe that’s why my landlord renovated. Maybe she doesn’t like that I’m living here.

In case you’ve ever had thoughts like that, try telling them to someone else. Their reaction will help you realize how preposterous you sound. Those thoughts out of my head, my parents came to visit. They had several suggestions and ultimately loaned me a noisy fan. Finally, I’ve slept through a couple of nights now and I’m hoping I’m over it.

They say it’s not worth having if it’s easy. They say good things come to those who wait.

I could have chosen not to get a divorce. Say what you will about whether it was the right decision or not, but I definitely chose the hard way.

I could have skipped DivorceCare, but I wouldn’t have learned anything from my mistakes. I could have rushed into marriage with the first viable candidate and been past all of this a long time ago, but I would have ended up exactly where I started.

I could have stayed in Jeff City, but my life would have been stagnant. I could have looked at apartments in the suburbs, but that would have been giving in to fear. I could have moved in with Jeremie, sacrificing everything I’ve been trying to build within myself for the past two years. I chose the hard way.  

I believe that when you push yourself, you grow. When you choose the hard way, you learn more about yourself. When you deal with difficulty, you become more confident in your abilities.

When I started considering changing my life, I remember thinking that just thinking about it was hard. I had no idea what was ahead of me. I know I am changing. I am growing, and I am a different person than I was. I’m choosing to do things on my own. I’m making the life I want. Not because it is easy, but because it is hard.

Goodbye, JCMO!

With as much as I've complained about Jeff City, I've found myself pretty nostalgic the past couple of weeks. I've lived/worked here more than half of my life. I still think I'm meant for a bigger city, but there are a lot of things I'll miss. Yes, they're mostly food-related. So I like food. There are worse things.

- Arris' Pizza and now Arris' Bistro (on my brain because my parents treated me tonight)
- The chocolate chip cookies at Brick House Deli
- Katy Trail
- My parents
- The spiral-cut homemade chips at Lutz's BBQ
- Chim's Thai Kitchen (seriously the best Thai I've ever had)
- All the Cubies in Cubeland
- My three-minute commute to work
- Having a dishwasher at work
- El Jimador and marg nights with Katie Lynn
- Pizza and wine nights and long talks with Johanna
- Chipotle lunches with Rob
- Walks on the greenway
- My apartment: the ridiculously low rent, garage and 40 square-foot walk-in closet especially
- Being able to walk to Barnes & Noble, Old Navy and Pier 1
- My parents. Did I already mention that?
- Having only a "rush minute"
- The sunsets
- The tiny sailboats on Binder Lake
- Schaefer House
- The enthusiasm of Jays sports fans
- 4th of July
- Summit Lake Winery

I think Jeff City will always be the place where I grew the most. It's where I struggled to make friends and eventually evolved into a confident, happy teenager. It's where I rebelled and probably scared the crap out of my parents a few times. It's where I got my first job and my first REAL job. It's where I had my first date and my first kiss. It's where I first fell in love and first felt real heartbreak. It's where I learned to drive. It's where I danced in the Capitol fountains the night before moving away to college. It's where I got married. It's where I first lived alone. It's where I struggled to pull myself out of depression after the divorce. It's where I have felt safe. It's where I have felt at home.

In less than a week, my only possessions that reside in Jeff City will be a drawer full of Babysitters Club books and a few boxes of old schoolwork. And years and years worth of memories.

Goodbye, Jeff City. Thank you for loving me even when I didn't love you back.

Letter to No One

I had to drive to Branson the day before my birthday, alone.

I spent the whole trip replaying other road trips we took. It made me think of the times we laughed until we couldn’t see the road through our tears. But it also made me remember the times we fought and sat in silence for hours. Mostly, it just made me sad.

My heart still speeds up every time I see a red Chevy truck. What if it were you? Would you acknowledge my existence? Would you pretend not to see me? Would you use the opportunity to drive the dagger even deeper?   

I still think of you often. My aunt Glenda still asks about you. People will talk about you sometimes and I never know what to say. One of my World Games athletes still asks about Duke and Izzy every time he writes on my wall, even though I’ve told him several times that I don’t have them anymore. Their picture still sits on the shelf in my cube.

We spent Christmas in Spokane. I was there just over a year ago, but somehow, this time it felt like you were haunting me. You were my own Ghost of Christmas Past.

“No, dear brothers and sisters, I am still not all I should be, but I am focusing all my energies on this one thing:  Forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead.”   Philippians 3:13

“Be kind to each other, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, just as God through Christ has forgiven you.”   Ephesians 4:32

Sometimes we feel that if we can forgive, then we can forget.  Forgiveness is not really about forgetting (which is often impossible), but about surrendering your right to hurt another person back.  Forgiveness allows you to release the bitter desire for retribution and frees you from anger, hurt, and bitterness.  After someone has wronged you, time will either harden your heart, making you bitter and unyielding, or it will soften it, giving you a desire for healing and restoration.  Willingness to forgive is the only way to achieve these. 

Forgiveness is a hard thing to describe. I’ve forgiven you for all of the pain from the marriage and divorce. You say you’ve forgiven me, but it feels like all you’ve done is try your hardest to forget. I want to forgive, but I’m not free of the hurt that followed after the ink dried. I guess I don’t know exactly where I stand. There’s a fine line between forgiveness and letting you take advantage of me. At some point, I have to look out for myself, and I think I’ve reached that point.

I refuse to forget, but I AM looking forward to what lies ahead. I’m moving, all by myself. I think you’d be proud of me. 

I hate it when something happens that reminds me of you, but I can’t tell you about it. Maybe that hurts more than anything.

Recently, I read A Severe Mercy. The author and his wife come to God after being atheists. The wife comes a lot further than the author, who is still distracted by worldly things and more in love with her than with Jesus. She dies. After her death, he realizes that God was using her to speak to him. If she had lived, he never would have fully turned over his life. I know God doesn’t punish us, but I know that He uses situations to teach us powerful lessons. I had to be completely broken to get to where I am now. I still have a hard time believing that this was his plan for me, but He knew this was the path I’d take. He knew this was what it would take to bring me to him. The divorce was my own severe mercy. I hope you’ve found yours.

Note to anyone who’s not No One: I am at peace with my life. I’m not looking for sympathy. I find healing in writing, which is why I started this blog. I’m going to continue to be real on here, and sometimes that means I’m a little sad. I want this to serve as a true account of what it’s like to go through a divorce. I want people to know that the pain is deep, and it lasts long beyond what you could imagine. I want people to find God without having to go through this.

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.