Often when I am thinking about you and miss you on my runs or while driving the kids around ,
the song but the Supremes “some day we will be together” comes on Pandora.
It makes me happy.
I always tell the kids it’s a message from you
reminding us that some day …
some day we will all be together.
And that brings peace.
We will be together.
It came on Pandora while I was running this morning.
Brian invited me to another competition on my Apple Watch.
We have been on a roll at these week long competition,
but he’s kicking my butt.
So much that the kids were wondering if he had Benny wearing it for him. Haha.
We took a week off last week and it’s funny how something that small made me less motivated.
Over the past year I had a goal and commitment to you ,
that I would run or walk 3.29 miles a day.
I had held myself hostage in guilt and regret.
And thinking you deserved to be here with the kids and I didn’t deserve this.
That it was soMehow unfair for me to still get to run.
But running makes me sane.
You knew that better than anyone.
Nothing clears my head like a run.
I struggle with sitting and praying.
But on a run.
God is loud.
I often hear you and Gods voice as I push myself up a hill.
The same way you did when your lungs had a grapefruit sized fungus growing in them.
The way you walked up chesterfield ever single time. Never skipped it , my mom and I never skip it either now.
I now have learned to free myself from the guilt.
( well it’s a daily surrendering , but I’m better at it now )
Knowing that if there was anything you would wish for people to do ,
would be to live each day to the fullest.
In whatever way that looks .
Running , working , playing , cleaning out the
Garage or just watching a movie on a Friday night.
Even when you were confined to your chair.
You still played sudoku. Connect four with the kids.
Or ordered things off Amazon. You never quit living.
I’ve realized that competitions on my Apple Watch with Brian ( or any of my fellow Apple Watch friends :)
all the way, Lousiana was keeping me accountable to you and those 3.29 mile walks.
They are keeping me focused on living through the pain of grief.
No matter how painful or how slow they were.
I always finish stronger.
With a clearer mind.
My perspective changes
I am grateful for all the ways family and friends keep me accountable.
(There are weeks , us grief clubbers , need you ! and you have no idea the power of the little things you do keep me running through grief )
Nancy told me last night that Brian has a cold this week.
I realised that’s probably why I am winning sp far😂
I feel slightly bad about using that to my advantage
I have to keep surrendering.
I have to let go of all the regret and guilt.
I have to keep swimming.
For you, Snookie.
I have dreamed of you twice this week.
We spent last weekend with your mom and dad at Stone Mtn .
And I felt close to you being with them.
Maybe you felt that too.
But the dreams are a gift and at the same time a rude awakening of a full pot of coffee without you to share with.
But I’m learning to keep my mind on those 3.29 miles of movement.
I am learning To just drink the extra cup
Of coffee ( lord knows I need it with these three children )
I am learning to hold these dreams close.
In my heart.
Kowing that you and the moon are closer than I imagine.
And that some day , we will indeed be together again.
I read this devotion that came this morning.
Everything is indeed a gift.
This was my reminder to keep living
like I believe that.
Everything Is a Gift
Father Richard preaches about Jesus’ invitation to undeserved mercy, a worldview at odds with our entire economic system. Click here to read the Gospel passage (Matthew 20:1–16). Another familiar parable is the story of laborers who arrive at the last hour and get paid as much as the ones that began work at the first hour. Let’s be honest: None of us who are “worker-bees” appreciate this story. All of us would think that if we bore the burden of the day’s heat working than we would deserve more than someone else. Yet this passage makes it clear that the landowner promised them what was fair, they agreed to the deal, and he gave them the usual wage. We call this reaction a sense of entitlement. Many Americans have it, especially if we grew up rather comfortable. When we grow up comfortable, we think we deserve. We think we have a special right. We would be offended if we didn’t get our bonus or our raise. We all think we deserve just a bit more; this really creates a high degree of unhappiness and anger in our society. Of course, Jesus always turns everything on its head, ending with the punch line: “Those that you think are the last might well be first” (Matthew 20:16). We’d better be ready to be surprised. The way most of us measure things—especially if we are privileged and comfortable—demonstrates that we might in fact not love God at all, but just ourselves. There’s only one way to get us out of this meritocracy and entitlement. Once in our lives we have to experience undeserved love at a deep, gut level. Where we didn’t merit it, we weren’t worthy of it; in fact we were unworthy of it, and we got it anyway. That’s called mercy. Only the experience of divine mercy breaks down this entire way of counting. And that’s what we do—we’re all counters. We are! We think to ourselves, “You gave this much, so you deserve this much.” Every such expectation is a resentment waiting to happen. When we expect, we’re soon going to resent it when we don’t get what we think we deserve. So, what the Gospel says is “Stop expecting!” Entitlement is lethal for the soul. Everything is a gift—one hundred percent pure gift. The reason any of us woke up this morning had very little to do with us and everything to do with God. All twenty-four hours today are total gift. And so, the only real prayer is to say “Thank you!” and to keep saying it. When our prayer is constantly “Thank you,” and we know we deserve nothing, and that everything is a gift, we stop counting. Only when we stop counting and figuring out what we deserve, will we move from the world of merit into the wonderful world of grace. And in the world of grace, everything is free.