Setbacks

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Mood music to enhance your reading experience)

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

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

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

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

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

And then.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nick showing off his loot

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

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

I can make soup from scratch

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

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

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

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

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

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

Starting to look yummy!

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

Love the puree setting!

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

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

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

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

Panera Bread Broccoli Cheese Soup

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

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

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.

I Can Set Up a Wireless Network (!!!)

Before I launch into today's post, I have to list a couple of things that I'm pretty proud of that got left off my original Things I Can Do list: I can kill a spider. This doesn't mean I like to or that I won't ask someone else to do it for me, but dang it, I can. Also, I can navigate they NYC subway system well enough to get from almost anywhere in Manhattan to the New York Presbyterian Hospital and back again. By myself.

Moving on ...

My big Christmas present this year (so big it had to be a joint present from my parents and myself) was a laptop. It came last week, and I already had my wireless router on hand and ready to set up. However, you know how sometimes you get in your head that you just can't do certain things, so much that you don't even want to try? Setting up wireless was one of those things that sounded about as do-able as walking into a cafe in Paris and ordering lunch. So I asked for help.

Three men, two Mediacom reps and several hours later, it was still not set up. I was ready to call the router a lemon and take it in for exchange today when I decided to give it one last shot. It still wasn't easy - I spent about an hour - but you know what? I did it. So no offense to my tech support team, but I'm sitting here on my couch typing this because I made it happen. It pays to push yourself to try something new. (I have a feeling God might be laughing a bit at the irony of the situation.)

I need to go get groceries and pick up a Redbox, but instead I'm reading my favorite blog, listening to the beautiful music that accompanies it and sipping chai from my favorite mug. Sometimes the little things are worth celebrating.

Thank you, once again, for the outpouring of love following my last entry. I know I've been neglecting all of your blogs and not updating this one as much as I'd like. No more excuses since I've solved that whole wireless problem. Up next: that New Year's Resolution, finally.

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

A Very Steward Christmas

(Working title: Stuck at an airport on Christmas Eve with nothing to do.)

‘Twas the night before Christmas

And Mark’s flight was late

Already a long day,

It was scheduled for eight.

We climbed in the Rav

Which was packed up with care

In hopes that the snow

Wouldn’t keep us from there.

The flakes were falling

And covered the trees

The setting was perfect

For sleds and for skis.

And Mom in her sweater

And Dad in his cap

I settled down in the backseat

For a two-hour nap.

When down in my tummy

Arose such a clatter,

My dad turned around

And asked what was the matter?

My stomach, I said,

And gave it a rub

Ok, said my dad,

Let’s stop for some grub.

When what, to our wondering eyes should appear

But a black SUV, with no lights in the rear!

My dad’s a good driver

So lively and quick

He avoided a crash,

Even though it was slick.

He whistled and honked and called them a name

Turn on your lights! Watch where you’re going! We could have been killed!

Imagine if that had happened

Before our tummies were filled!

At that very moment

We looked to the sky

And noticed the snow

Had now passed us by.

So up to the truck stop

To Wendy’s we went

In true Steward fashion,

Eight dollars we spent.

Back on the road

We flew down the interstate

To meet Mark at the airport,

We couldn’t be late.

And then, in an instant

We saw KCI.

We parked for twelve dollars

And went on inside.

Not a vendor was open

Though the terminal we scoured

So we found a big lounge

And sat for two hours.

We waited and waited

And waited some more

When suddenly he appeared –

We were at the wrong door!

He was dressed in all blue

In a sweater and jeans

We raced down to greet him

Oh what a scene!

A bundle of clothes

He had slung on his back

His suitcase he rolled

We wouldn’t need the luggage rack.

His eyes, how they twinkled,

His dimples so merry!

His cheeks were like roses,

His nose like a cherry!

He was cheerful and smiling

A right jolly young elf

I laughed when I saw him

In spite of myself.

With one sweep of his arm

He hugged me so cozy

The rest of the passengers

Looked at us, nosy.

We sprang to the car

To Jeff City! We cried.

We didn’t make it home by midnight

Though steadfastly we tried.

Per family tradition

We each opened one gift

An ornament for me, coffee beans for him

‘Tis the season, our spirits did lift.

Our family together

An occasion so dear

But wait just a second

Doug is not here!

Our eyelids so heavy

The night was still creeping

We’ll call him in the morning

He’s probably sleeping.

We pulled in my driveway

And they drove out of sight

Merry Christmas to all

And to all a good night!