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.  

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.

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.

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.

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"

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

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!

Peace, Love & Happiness: A New Year's Resolution

I've often thought that if I were a teenager in the 70s, I would have been a hippie. I've always loved these three elements woven together and the idea that they can solve all the world's problems. Last year, my resolution was simply: To be happy. And there were definitely moments in which I succeeded. By the end of the year, I had a good grip on what it takes to make me happy. But I've also realized that you can't just "be happy." You have to constantly evaluate your life and the things in it and work on yourself and create happiness. You can't just have peace, love and happiness -- you have to work for them. So that's my 2011 resolution.

(If you'll indulge me, please listen to the corresponding songs as you read each section. I still haven't figured out how to get a playlist imbedded in here.)

Peace: Iron & Wine, "The Trapeze Swinger"
Although this one is first, it is possibly the hardest one for me. I'm not trying to solve world peace or anything, but just to find inner peace. To be at peace with what has happened in my life and where I am now. To forgive others. To forgive myself. To not be so upset over things I cannot control. To be more calm. To be patient for my life to be the way I want, and to understand that what I want isn't necessarily what I need or what I'll get. To spend more time talking to God, and perhaps more importantly, listening to Him.

My brother has been encouraging me to try yoga, and there's now a Yoga magazine lying on my coffee table, so I suppose that's a good starting place. It seems appropriate that this song selection comes from him as well. Please don't read anything into the slideshow that plays from the YouTube link - I just think it's an incredibly peaceful song. And I could be misinterpreting it, but it seems like the theme of the song is being at peace with life.

Love: JJ Heller, "What Love Really Means"
I want to love. Not just in the romantic sense, although it would be great if I could sort that all out this year. What I mean is that I want to love the way God loves. I've heard the term "God is love" so many times that it seems a bit trite. However, I recently heard a sermon that gave it some fresh meaning. God is love - think about that literally. When you feel love toward a friend, that's God moving through you. When you feel love for a family member, that's God. When you see a story on tv that touches your heart and you feel love, that's God. One of the most beautiful gifts God gives us is the ability to love, and it's also a direct interaction with Him! God loves us in spite of the times we ignore Him, defy Him or hurt Him. I want to love that way.

I've already used this to shift some of my energy. I took on some extra duties about a year ago that require me to deal directly with the people who raise money on our website. For the first several months, I was incredibly irritable. I didn't have time to deal with these people, and on top of that, I thought, they should have been able to figure out most of this stuff on their own. I was probably not very friendly with some of them. I would leave work angry. I would get so frustrated I'd sit in my cube and cry. I can't change the fact that they're calling or that they couldn't figure it out on their own. But what I can change is my reaction. Instead of being frustrated, I'm grateful that they're using our website to raise money. Instead of having a short temper, I force myself to smile and simply ask how I can help them. Instead of being irritated with them, I love them. What a difference this has made - suddenly, the people I'm talking to are also nicer! It's easier to solve their problems. Somehow the rest of my work is getting done in spite of the time I have to spend on the phone.

Happiness: Florence + The Machine, "Dog Days Are Over" 
I love the first line of this song: Happiness hit her like a train on a track. I first heard this song on the previews for Eat, Pray, Love. Since I'd already read the book, I immediately connected with the song and thought, "I want my life to sound like that." There were a lot of moments in 2010 where I found myself smiling all the way down to my heart for no reason, just happy - it truly did hit me like a train. While peace may be the goal I have the hardest time describing or figuring out how to work toward, I think happiness is the most elusive. I've also found pain and sorrow coming out of nowhere on an otherwise pleasant evening. I think what I've learned is that you have to let the hard times come, because they're inevitable. But if you can surround yourself with the things that make you happy, if you can focus on being happy, the hard times will come fewer and farther between. And when they do come, they'll be easier to work though.

I think I've mentioned Kelle Hampton's blog in about half of my posts here, and I've never even met her. Our lives aren't even very similar. However, she's got this great outlook on life: Live bigger, love better, enjoy the small things. She shared this story in a post about a month ago:

There is an ancient Native American story about an old Cherokee who told his grandson about the battle that goes on within us. "My son," he told him, "Inside every one of us dwells two wolves, one evil, one good. The evil one is angry and jealous, full of regret and arrogance, greed and sorrow, guilt and self-pity. The other is good. He is kind and loving, full of hope and peace, joy and compassion."

The young boy thought about it for a moment. "Which wolf wins?" he asked his grandfather.

The old Cherokee smiled and simply replied, "...the one you feed."

Kelle has inspired me to feed my good wolf. I know I'm where I'm supposed to be right now. I can't change anything that's happened in the past. But if I focus on peace, love and happiness, I can change my attitude. And maybe I can change where I'll be a year from now. And maybe I'll be closer to that life I want. Even if I'm not ... it will feel so much better.

Divorce is an Open Wound

This is not the blog post I thought I’d be writing today. I’ve got my New Year’s Resolution all packaged up in my brain, but as I laid in bed last night struggling to fall asleep, this came together, and I was afraid if I waited to write it, it would slip away. As long as I publish my resolution by the end of the month, it still counts, right?

I’ve heard people say that going through a divorce is like getting in a car wreck every day for a year. That’s pretty accurate, especially when you’re in the negotiation phase. But once you get past that, the pain becomes . . . different. More raw. The shock sets in. It’s over. He’s gone. People around you continue to go about their business, and you’re still stuck in this in-between place. Not yet over it, but feeling like you should be. Wanting to move on, but feeling ashamed to do so.

Divorce becomes an open wound. You can cover it up with a new apartment, a new car, etc., but it’s big and messy and uneven, so there are always little bits exposed, waiting for the world to creep up and dig in. And if you don’t change the dressing often, a flap will get loose and something will yank on it, hard, and bring you to tears.

It will happen when you hear a certain jingle from a familiar commercial.

Or when you see someone walking their German shepherd.

Or when his 30th birthday passes without a single word.

Or when you find out your friend is pregnant. You’ll be happy for her, truly, but then you’ll go home to your apartment and realize just how alone you are. And how the dreams you had for yourself have been put on indefinite hold.

It will happen when you realize it’s not just a few Keith Urban songs you can’t listen to, but his voice, because the very sound of it takes you to a passenger seat with the windows down, holding hands and singing at the top of your lungs.   

Or when he unfriends you on Facebook.

Sometimes it will be a little prick. Sometimes the pain will paralyze you. Sometimes you’ll just briefly flinch before regaining composure. Other times you’ll sleep all night on the couch, because the thought of getting into bed by yourself would just add insult to injury.

But the thing is . . . wounds eventually scab over. They’re still delicate, but a protective barrier forms to keep the world out. You can choose to pick at it; to be upset when he doesn’t return an email or when you listen to a painful song on repeat, or when you're feeling sorry for yourself as you call cookie dough and wine "dinner." Or you can choose to live. You can go to Christmas parties and baby showers and game nights. You can spend hours talking with friends over hot wings or cheese dip or sushi. You can find a new workout class (no matter how much you detest it). You can join a Bible study and immerse yourself in His word. You can surround yourself with people who encourage you to be the best version of yourself.

After a while, when you peek under the bandage at the scab, ready to pull a piece off, you’ll notice that a scar has formed. It’s still tender to the touch, and sure, if you scratched hard enough, you could still inflict pain. And you’ll wonder if that scar is all people are going to see when they look at you. But the fact is, that scar is part of you. In time, that part of your skin will be tougher than the rest. As cliché as this sounds (and if I had told myself this a year ago, I probably would have rolled my eyes) It. Will. Make. You. Stronger.

Sometimes it’s hard to see God’s purpose. I still don’t understand it, but I know how much I’ve grown over the past year. I’m calmer. I’m more joyful. I’m more in love with life. I have Him, and all of you, to thank for that. You have prayed for me, fought for me and loved me. You have guarded my wound. I could not be more grateful, and most of you will never even know what a difference you’ve made.

Thank you, Leslie, for sending me this song.

You are more than the choices that you've made
You are more than the sum of your past mistakes
You are more than the problems you create
You've been remade

If you can't be with the one you love, love yourself.

It's been a bittersweet few weeks. I've made some adjustments in my life (specifically to my Facebook settings) to hopefully prevent the almost weekly cry-my-eyes-out session I'd been experiencing. It has helped, and I have been strong about it, but it's also left me feeling pretty depleted. Rejection, letting go, accepting the end ... these are not things I do well.

However, there's also been some really good. Bible study is continuing to change my heart. I've been celebrating babies and friends and making progress at work. I can't say I've specifically done anything on my independence list, but I've been getting better at relying on God to love me and take me where I'm supposed to be. Again, I'm seeing that this is the path to happiness - not through any other person. I'm making my own happiness.

So, because this week I'm loving myself, it's time to celebrate Things I Can Do:
- Fly across the country
- Bake brownies from scratch
- Buy a car
- Try a new church by myself
- Decorate an apartment
- Take a picture of myself (thus the profile photo)
- Sing the states alphabetically
- Build an online fundraiser on our website (believe me, this is huge)
- Throw a baby shower
- Balance my checkbook
- Go to the gym alone
- Climb a (small) cliff
- Plan and run a ceremony for 4,000 people
- Drive for four hours (probably longer, but I haven't tried)
- Join a sorority - this was way outside my comfort zone at the time
- Jump in freezing water in the middle of February
- Ask for a table for one at a restaurant
- Score a lease on an amazing apartment

Finally, I'll close out this post with a lyric from "Heart of Life" by John Mayer. I am not a huge fan of his personally, but these words really hit home:

Pain throws your heart to the ground
Love turns the whole thing around
No, it wont all go the way it should
But I know the heart of life is good

And an extra shout-out to my circle of friends for defending the silver lining. :)

Time for some happy

First of all, I have to thank everyone who sent me an encouraging note after my last post. I needed those, and they help more than I can describe. I am so blessed to have so many wonderful people in my life.

Since my last entry was a downer, I decided it's time to compile:

Things That Always Make Me Happy

• Puppies
• Babies, especially Audrey, Emery and Adalie
• My living room
• My ringtone
• The color green, and ...
• Eco-friendly, recycle-y things
• My silver Lia Sophia hoop earrings, because they dress up any outfit
• Stone Hill Concord red wine
• My new car
• Kelle Hampton's blog
• New episodes of Mad Men and Glee
• Watching Special Olympics athletes compete
• My brothers
• Guacamole
• Jimmy Fallon's Dance Your Hat and Gloves Off game
• Snail mail
• Cartoon monkeys
• Trips to Pier 1 and/or NY&Co.
• Catching my parents holding hands
• Decorating for fall
• This commercial (you may find it obnoxious, but I giggle every time)
• On that note, any commercial that is especially clever or silly or features really pretty music
• Monday night Bible study
• Mizzou BFF
• Blankets
• Losing myself in a new book
• Muppets/Sesame Street revivals
• Seeing something I've created in final form (usually this is printed pieces at work)
• Finding new songs and artists on my Pandora station
• Getting a new album of photos printed
• Stories of acceptance and inclusion
• Tastefully Simple's Oh My! Chai

So there. A long, but still incomplete list of things I can go to the next time I'm feeling down. Just in time for Thanksgiving, I'm hoping to count my blessings more often and spend time with the things that make me happy. As I heard recently, happiness is external; joy is internal. If I can manage to bring more happy around, surely I'll be more joyful.

What makes you happy?