Tuesday, July 30, 2013


"That girl dances to the beat of a different drummer".  He said it nonchalantly as we walked along the street, watching our three daughters skip ahead of us.

"What makes you say that", I ask him, "the rubber goulashes in 90 degree heat, or the fact that she came home from Sunday School today with the word "Revenge" written on the front of the card she made?"

Monday, July 22, 2013

The First Time I Breathed Ocean Air

The last time I breathed ocean air
was like the first time I breathed ocean air

hands outstretched in freedom's shawl
with waves that drown words that bleed

Enormity engulfs my beating heart and
with it gives purpose, renewal, depth

Be brave it tells me!  Live like you have
nothing to lose, and care for others like

you have beauty to share. Take these five
stones and remember that there is One

who gives life and steady feet to those in
soft sand. And One who uses crashing waves

to make rough spots smooth.  Remember,
it tells me!  Don't forget what you know is true.

Breathe deep this ocean air like the first time
you breathed ocean air.

And dance.  Dance sweet in the salty waves.

Wednesday, July 3, 2013

Main Street Mile 2013

Once again, we signed the kids up for Main Street Mile...or rather, we were tied to a chair and made to do so!  The kids love this race.  There is no coercing or begging.  No pleading.  These gals decide every year to run in 90+ temps amongst strangers dressed in fur (AKA mascots), sweat dripping down their faces, lungs working overtime to recover gasped breath.

Why, you ask?

Ice cream.

Yes, I did say ice cream.  I'd like to say these girls are dedicated to improving their lifelong cardiovascular health, or that they really believe in helping further research and a cure for testicular cancer, but that is just not the case.  We're talking the under 11 year-old-sect here.  They have their lifetime to worry about worthy causes.;o)

But in becoming a part of something big, outside their own realm of influence, these girls just might grow up to be caring individuals who want to give a small amount to do something tangible to help further medicine.  They just might want to take care of their bodies and enjoy the feeling of pushing your body, your lungs further than it went yesterday.

So every year we run after the ice cream truck and we sweat and we laugh at the furry mascots racing year-after-year, having become a beloved tradition among bystanders.

Will the cow win again this year? 

And will we run faster than last year?

Will I get orange or a chocolate ice cream this year? (yes, we ponder important questions in this fam!)

A family affair, we all get to run. Or, in the case of our trusty bystanders Aunt Bucky and Nanette, some get to watch and cheer and take pictures.  This year, papa ran with Liv.  Holland ran with Brian.  I got to run with Reese.  What a privilege that was....her first race.  I expected Reese to be laughing and giggling and smiling.  But I should have known better.  Anyone who knows Reese knows the girl is serious about her snacks and she is always "hungy".

Papa, chasing Liv.

Daddy and Holland.

Mom with the very serious Reese.

The whole race she was chanting, "Let's get ice-cream.  Let's get ice-cream!"  And even when she stopped briefly due to "this running is making my mouth feel thirsty!", she insisted that we keep running so that we could, "go get ice cream!"

There were no smiles.  No laughing.  Only serious love for ice-cream.  And when asked why she said she'd like to go back and run the race again, she said, "because of the ice cream and those blue ribbons!" 

Until next time, Main Street Mile...thanks for the fun, the thrill, the ice cream.


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