I’m not really a runner. But maybe I could be?

I’ve gone through different phases in terms of my own physical health and dedication to exercise – everything from an all-out commitment not to gain weight during college and a resulting devotion to 1.5 hour daily workouts, to a healthier 3-5 times a week workout routine, to very sporadic attempts to make time to work out as the mom of four children, to a recognition and acceptance of the fact that I just was doing nothing at all.

Matt, however, has been exercising consistently since his completion of a cardiac rehab program after his heart attack. Over Christmas, while we were in Wisconsin visiting family (and thus had built-in childcare!), I went out for a couple brisk walks/runs with him, and I started thinking about maybe trying to get back in shape. I’m not in horrible shape, but I’m not physically fit, either. I’m not very strong, and I’d get winded running just a couple minutes. I’m 36 now, and it’s not going to get easier to get into good physical condition as I get older, and I want to take care of my body well. Plus, I’ve seen through these last few months of horseback riding that I actually really enjoy pushing myself and accomplishing goals.

I started thinking about running a 5K. I’ve never in my life run a race. I’m not sure whether I’ve ever run 3 miles at once, and if I have, it would have been about 18 years ago as a freshman in college. For some people, a 5K would be an easy run – but for me it would be a goal that would stretch me. I wasn’t sure that I could do it – I’m still not sure that I can. But I do a lot better with concrete, measurable goals – “work toward running a 5K” versus “get in shape.”

And so I talked to a friend about doing it with me, and we signed up to run a 5K in March. I talked to my best friend from high school – a marathon runner but also a realistic mom of three – about her recommendations, and downloaded the C25K app. And the first week of January, I started running!

Matt and I used some of the money from a painting sale he made to upgrade his Apple watch and buy one for me. I feel incredibly pretentious and elitist walking around with my expensive watch – but also, I’m enjoying the ability to track my workouts and share fitness info with Matt and my brother and sister-in-law and friends.

I got about a week into my routine of running in our neighborhood – and the next weekend we got 14 inches of snow! I was pretty sure my ability to run in 14 inches of snow (sometimes plowed, sometimes not) was negligible, so I joined a gym.

This morning I started week 3 of my C25K program (still running at the gym, due to the snow and ice on the ground, but hoping to get back to outdoor runs soon!). I’m pretty committed – but also scared. What if I can’t do it? What if I’m some sort of anomaly for whom this famous couch-to-5K program has insufficient time or recognition of my lack of physical fitness to prepare to run a 5K, and I just can’t do it? (And now, what if I tell everyone I’m going to do this and then can’t?).

My current biggest challenge – in addition to my general out-of-shape-ness – is my knees. When I started running in college, I quickly developed runner’s knee – which made sense, because I am me and lack moderation in all things, so overnight I went from never running to running 20 minutes a day every day. The couch-to-5K program is much more moderate and healthy…and yet my knees (my right knee in particular) are not appreciating it. I’ve spent some time looking up some stretches and have started stretching before and after my runs and icing my knee – but if any of you runners have advice or recommendations for me so that I can help my knee hold up through these runs, I’d appreciate it!

Assuming that I can keep my knee healthy and that I am not the one person out there for whom the couch-to-5K program will not work, I hope to be accomplishing another goal and running a 5K in about 2 months. Who knows? Maybe someday I’ll actually be a runner.

Fifteen Years

Fifteen years. It’s been fifteen years since we said I do.

We were babies (almost literally – I can’t believe we got married when I was 20). We had no idea how much we didn’t know.

And as I look back on these fifteen years of glory, my instinct is to go to the “high points,” the mountaintop experiences and accomplishments. We’ve had plenty of those. We’ve traveled the world together.

(And the small joys – ohmygoodness, I laugh every time I see the forehead hickey you gave yourself!)

We’ve brought two babies into this world.

And we’ve added two more to our family through adoption.

Our 15 years of marriage have been filled with incredible joy.

And yet…I’ve had that line from Hallelujah running through my head – “love is not a victory march; it’s a cold and it’s a broken hallelujah.”

We’ve had our fair share of cold and broken hallelujahs too.

We’ve done counseling and Zoloft. We’ve had our fights. I’ve dropped to my knees and cried out to God in tearful prayers of brokenness and desperation. We’ve looked death in the face (I just can’t bring myself to post the pictures here right now, but, readers, you can scroll back through these posts if you haven’t seen them already).

I don’t know what the next 15 years hold for us. A part of me is terrified to find out.

And yet – I trust that no matter what happens, we are a team, united together ’til death do us part.

When we start to drift away, I trust that we’ll turn back toward one another, over and over and over again.

I’m thankful for many years of knowing you, of doing life with you, of reading good books and having great conversations, of being real and genuine and vulnerable, of hurting each other and making amends, of hard work, of loving and serving, of triumphs and celebrations, of victory marches and broken hallelujahs. And I pray that we’ll have many more to come.

In Which Miranda Becomes a Vegetarian

One of my greatest joys in parenthood is watching my children develop interests and passions of their own. All four of our children have what our pediatrician refers to as “big personalities,” so there is no shortage of passion here. Even if we tried to direct it, I’m not sure we could, and each time it bursts forth from one child or another, I feel like I’ve just gotten to unwrap another Christmas gift. I get a real glimpse at where my child’s heart is, and the wonder and awe that this child whom I have the privilege of shepherding through life has his or her own unique convictions and excitements and passions – and that I have a front row seat to witnessing them – is glorious.

One of Miranda’s latest passions is vegetarianism. As a family, we have been almost entirely pescetarian since shortly after Matt’s heart attack. For several months now, though, Miranda has been entirely vegetarian. She was never really a huge fan of fish, anyway, and while the rest of us have always made occasional brief forays into the carnivorous culture in which we exist (primarily related to social gatherings), Miranda abstains from meat entirely.

I remember very clearly sitting on the couch one morning, doing our history reading, and looking at pictures of Vikings carrying in animal carcasses in preparation for a feast. The meat-to-be looked so very…animal-like. I believe that was the moment that solidified it all in her mind with finality. She would not be consuming meat.

Since then, our conversations about vegetarianism generally go something like this:

  • Miranda: I will not eat meat! It is mean to kill animals for food and eat them!
  • Me: I respect that conviction, and we’ll honor that. You don’t have to eat meat.
  • Miranda: No one should eat meat! If anyone eats meat, they should be killed!
  • Me: So…you think it’s evil to kill animals?
  • Miranda: Yes!
  • Me: So evil that anyone who eats an animal should be killed?
  • Miranda: Yes!
  • Me: Doesn’t that seem a bit ironic to you?
  • Miranda: No. Why would that be ironic?
  • Me: Well, you’re advocating for killing people, because you’re protesting that they are killing animals. If you value the lives of animals, do you think maybe we should also value the lives of people?
  • Miranda, looking at me as if that proposal is the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard: No.

There you have it, my friends. Miranda Grace, the ultimate intensifier, has spoken. She is a vegetarian, and the rest of us are supposed to follow her lead – or else.

Either that, or I need to keep working with her on developing some sense of moderation and respect for others’ convictions and the ethical gray areas of life 😉

Spring Break Excitement…Or Not

You may be wondering what a family of six that is saving money for a fun summer trip (as well as continuing to rebuild the emergency savings account that was wiped out with the last adoption!) chooses to do for spring break. It turns out…not much. Well, that’s not exactly true. We’ve been doing a lot – it’s just that none of it is particularly exciting.

In fact, with the exception of a blissful 36 hours in which everyone in our home was fever-free, we have had at least one sick child every day for the last 11 days. We’ve had runny noses, coughs, and fevers, and yesterday we added a confirmed ear infection to the litany of afflictions. The downside of having a lot of children is that illnesses can slowly make their way through them, one at a time, rendering at least portions of the family home-bound for long periods of time. We’re thankful it’s not worse, but this is getting pretty old!

In a way, it’s been nice that the weather has been so yucky – 40s, maybe 50, cloudy, rainy, and muddy. At least we haven’t felt like we’re missing out on much! Even though this week is Matt’s spring break, the kids and I are plugging away at school. We may as well do school now, when weather is yucky and everyone feels bad, so we have more time to enjoy the fun, warm, sunny days when they arrive.

dinner table school

We also have a number of medical needs in our family, and poor Matt is at my mercy this week, as I’ve scheduled as many appointments and meetings as possible to try to avoid having to drag all 4 children to everything. So far we’ve tackled an eye doctor appointment for one child, a meeting about access to our church’s children’s programs for one of our kids, an unexpected pediatrician appointment to confirm the ear infection, a cardiology appointment for Matt, and we tried to do an endocrinology appointment for two of our kids…but, for the first time (which actually might be impressive, given the number of appointments we have? or maybe it’s still just depressing) I had the day wrong, and they told us our appointment is actually tomorrow. Sigh. Tonight I’ll meet with another adoptive mom to talk some adoption stuff, and tomorrow we’ll do the actual endocrinology appointment and hit a physical therapy appointment. It’s all stuff that needs to be done…but it’s not exactly Disneyworld 😉

I am thankful that we live in an era in which medical care is readily available. I’m thankful for our high quality health insurance that allows us to pursue that care without worry. It has not escaped my notice that not everyone has that right. My child who woke up with an ear infection doesn’t have to suffer longer than necessary. And since we need to take care of all of these specialist appointments, it is so nice to be able to do it during a week when Matt is around. This is part of what life with a medically complex child and others affected by various medical issues is all about. We knock out the appointments, do some school around them all, and try to get in some bits of family fun, as well <3

I hope your spring break is more exciting than ours – but also that if you are a family who has weeks like this, filled with a never-ending stream of appointments, that you can see the grace in the ability to do that, too.

This Is Us, Traumaversaries, and the Long View

February is a tough month around here. We’re coming up on the second anniversary of an incredibly traumatic week in our family’s life.

That week began with an early Sunday morning phone call from Matt’s mom telling us that his sister Denya had passed away completely unexpectedly. After we got the call, we went to church. I don’t know why we went to church. Trauma responses are not rational.

And 3 short days later, I called 9-1-1 from an upstate New York hotel room as our kids and I witnessed Matt suffer cardiac arrest. We spent the next week in the hospital (here you can read parts two, three, four, and five if you hadn’t already), leaving our kids – with no advance preparation – in the care of grandparents and aunts and uncles for the week. After discharge we spent another week at Matt’s mom’s house before a friend flew out to help us drive home to Missouri, where we began our journey toward recovery and health.

As we have approached these anniversaries, I’ve been feeling it. It’s a true traumaversary for me – an anniversary of trauma that affects you so deeply that your body itself remembers it. I’m more emotional. I fought back tears as a woman at the grocery store accused me of taking her spot in line. I’m more on edge with my kids. I’m more easily irritated with Matt. The strain of other normal interpersonal interactions feels greater.

And into this context of our lives steps the tv show This Is Us. Featuring a white family that adopts a black child, it is quite popular among my adoptive mom friends, and Matt and I began watching it last year. It is, quite simply, phenomenal. Of course, it resonates with us in particular because of the nature of our family and its similarities to the tv show family. Matt and I have adopted two of our children trans-racially, and we have a number of children all close in age to one another. But it goes beyond that – the show explores family dynamics, personal choices, and how we all live in a way that resonates with viewers deeply.

The show hops between different time periods in the family’s life, and we’ve known since season one that Jack, the father in the family, was going to die while the children were in high school. Season two has focused on the lead up to his death and its effects on each of the children in their now-adult lives. And a week and a half ago, he died. In fact, he suffered a cardiac arrest (after inhaling too much smoke in a house fire). When told, his wife’s immediate response was to take a bite of the candy bar she was holding (trauma responses are not rational). And then she had to go and tell their children.

I sobbed.

I sobbed through the entire episode, and I sobbed through the next one, in which they plan and attend his funeral, scatter his ashes, and begin to figure out life without Jack.

It all hit pretty close to home. I’ve envisioned all of those scenarios. My brother-in-law and nieces lived them out two years ago – and are still living them out today. Things could have gone very differently for us on that night two years ago. And now we live on borrowed time. Matt’s health is generally good now, and we hope for many more years together. Of course, only God knows the number of days any of us have left, but we know that ours may be fewer than most, and we think about what that may mean for us.

And in This Is Us, we see what it means for every character. Their experience with trauma affects them forever. It colors their lives. It does not need to define their entire lives, but it never goes away.

I remember sharing with a friend, before we brought Madeleine CaiQun home from China, that we’d need to parent her differently than we might parent a biological child because of her experiences with trauma in the first few years of her life. This friend asked, “So how long will it take before she gets beyond that and you can just treat her like normal?”

The answer? Never.

And this is the long view. We never “get over” our experiences with trauma. We move through them. We learn to live with them. We learn how they affect us. We learn how we can manage their effects. We learn what truths speak to us when the effects of our trauma rear their ugly heads. We learn what sort of supports we need.

I am seeing that I need to dial back my expectations for myself, for Matt, and for our kids during this month. I need to watch for my desire for control and counteract it by working to hold all things loosely. I need to practice loving well, even when I feel like retreating.

And I need to take these insights and apply them to the ways in which I parent my kids. My first three kiddos share my traumaversary. My two kiddos from China have experienced a number of huge traumas in their lives. All of these experiences shape who they are, how they respond to stress, and how they live their lives. I can recognize that even I, as an adult, am not fully in control of my emotions and the ways in which I respond to the additional stress I feel at these sensitive times. How much more difficult it must be for them, as kids, to deal with hard stuff! I can choose to recognize that and parent out of compassion and kindness, rather than rigidity and selfishness.

Watching the Olympic figure skating competition last night and seeing Patrick Chan skate to “Hallelujah,” I was reminded of the truth and beauty in the words:

And love is not a victory march

It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah

I needed that reminder heading into this week.