My room looks almost exactly the same as it did when I was ten years old. Posters have gone up and come down, but the wallpaper has remained. Pictures of family and friends have been added and moved around, but the photo board is still there. And my ever growing collection of books is a little bigger and a bit dustier, but my eyes can still find their way to the section of my shelf where my sixth grade summer reading books sit.
I know this isn't a forever thing. Eventually, this room, like the years that are represented here, will be a memory. But for now, I sit on my bed with my eyes closed. This is my first time home this summer. I can hear the sound of the neighbor mowing the lawn, kids playing down the street, and I am transported back to a time gone by. I am a kid on summer break. My world, once again, is swim team and writing camp, pool days, evenings at the drive-in, cookouts and sleepovers, family vacations at the lake, hide and seek with the neighbors around the cul-de-sac, and my parents calling us in for dinner.
I can hear the sound of my siblings and cousins giggling and splashing in the pool at my grandparents house, the smell of burgers on the grill, my uncle announcing the food is ready. We take turns standing at the screen door until our bathing suits are no longer dripping and we can make our way inside to change for dinner. And of course, there were the kinds of squabbles that come with having a family as close as ours, with cousins all around the same age. Mostly, though, I remember the joy.
I hear the key turn in the front door and open my eyes. This room is no longer mine the way it used to be. I've become a visitor, here only for a short while, in town for a family wedding. Last night I spent time catching up with my cousins and earlier today I had lunch with my mom, aunts, uncle, and grandparents.
We all wear the years a little differently. There is a little more wisdom, a few more wrinkles, more life experience, and a deeper knowledge of loss and grief that come with lives lived fully. Each of us is an owner of our own story, but uniquely part of each other's. And as we sit around the table, I still see the same joy that I knew in my childhood. A little softer, a little more worn, but still as present as ever. The kind that comes with the wisdom of knowing tomorrow isn't promised the way this moment here and now is.
I am thankful now in a way I didn't know how to be back then. I spend a little extra time remembering yesterday and today, moments I somehow already feel nostalgic about...
Have a Happy Friday and a wonderful weekend! Love y'all!
Xo,
Lauren
Friday, July 14, 2017
Friday, June 23, 2017
Goat Yoga
I had this whole serious, reflective, “I’m turning 30 soon,” blog post planned for today. And while I will post it eventually. I’m squirreling. And this is why...
I saw something on Facebook before I went to bed about Goat Yoga and I spent way too many hours in the middle of the night, thinking about it and trying to figure out if it’s a real thing or not. I literally just started a bucket list so that I could put this on it.
I don’t really understand the concept. The teacher’s there, you’re there, the goats are there, the teacher’s doing yoga, you’re doing yoga, the goats are…? The little practical person living inside my brain wants to reply to that thought with, “no Lauren, the goats are not doing yoga,” but the non practical person occupying the other part of my brain has learned never to make those kinds of assumptions.
And so I wondered...
My limited experience with goats is not enough information for me to decide whether or not a goat is capable of downward facing dog. I mean, if a dog can do it…the implication is there, right? Not to mention, in my month long journey of becoming a yoga genius (see previous post), I’ve learned that a lot of poses are named after animals… meaning we’re mimicking them… meaning they did it first. Meaning it’s absolutely plausible that goats know how to do yoga.
Do you see?? Do you see how this could consume my thoughts for hours on end? Fear not, I did the research so you don’t have to.
Turns out Goat Yoga is sweeping the nation. Well, it’s at least sweeping the goat friendly areas of the nation. This latest fitness craze originated in Oregon. Though, I've read conflicting reports that Michigan is also trying to stake an origin claim.
And people are serious about their goat yoga, my friends. That farm in Oregon, where it supposedly all began, has a 1,200 person waiting list!
It's been described as a great way to take yoga back out into nature, combining all the finest of what she has to offer. It evokes joy and laughter from the participants and provides an all around enjoyable time.
Folks, this lovely part of the nation that I feel so fortunate to live in, is one of the goat friendly ones. And there just so happens to be a farm not too far away that's participating in this latest craze.
You know where this is going, right?
I enrolled in the next available class. I get to experience this nation sweeping phenomenon next week. I promise to report back, possibly with pictures. So, stay tuned. I have a feeling this yoga experience is going to be the Greatest Of All Time.
Comment below and let me know if you'd try it!
Xo,
Lauren
I saw something on Facebook before I went to bed about Goat Yoga and I spent way too many hours in the middle of the night, thinking about it and trying to figure out if it’s a real thing or not. I literally just started a bucket list so that I could put this on it.
I don’t really understand the concept. The teacher’s there, you’re there, the goats are there, the teacher’s doing yoga, you’re doing yoga, the goats are…? The little practical person living inside my brain wants to reply to that thought with, “no Lauren, the goats are not doing yoga,” but the non practical person occupying the other part of my brain has learned never to make those kinds of assumptions.
And so I wondered...
My limited experience with goats is not enough information for me to decide whether or not a goat is capable of downward facing dog. I mean, if a dog can do it…the implication is there, right? Not to mention, in my month long journey of becoming a yoga genius (see previous post), I’ve learned that a lot of poses are named after animals… meaning we’re mimicking them… meaning they did it first. Meaning it’s absolutely plausible that goats know how to do yoga.
Do you see?? Do you see how this could consume my thoughts for hours on end? Fear not, I did the research so you don’t have to.
And people are serious about their goat yoga, my friends. That farm in Oregon, where it supposedly all began, has a 1,200 person waiting list!
Folks, this lovely part of the nation that I feel so fortunate to live in, is one of the goat friendly ones. And there just so happens to be a farm not too far away that's participating in this latest craze.
You know where this is going, right?
I enrolled in the next available class. I get to experience this nation sweeping phenomenon next week. I promise to report back, possibly with pictures. So, stay tuned. I have a feeling this yoga experience is going to be the Greatest Of All Time.
Comment below and let me know if you'd try it!
Xo,
Lauren
P.S. I really hope this is a beginner's class.
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(Subscribe below with your email to receive future updates!)
Friday, June 16, 2017
Time for New
I'm currently in the middle of turning over a new leaf. But man, is it a heavy leaf. In short, I'm spring cleaning my life. It started with wanting to clean/declutter my apartment, then turned into wanting to begin a workout routine, but deciding more than working out, I need a whole lifestyle revamp when it comes to my health. And I also need to focus more on committing to writing every day... and getting my business going. Oh yeah, I'm starting a business. We have lots to catch up on :)
I wouldn't normally share this sort of thing until I knew what the outcome was going to be, but I like the idea of putting it out there and having this sort of abstract accountability. It's also a way for me to track my progress.
As for the decluttering... I've started reading, The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up by Marie Kondo. It's no joke. I'm going to be parting with a whole lot of "stuff" over the next little while... but that's the point. In the little I've done so far, I already feel like a weight's been lifted. I can't wait to get to work on the rest of my apartment. I have this friend who never owns more than she can't sell in a day and buy a ticket halfway around the world for some adventure or another. While I don't think I'll go that far, I am beginning to see the appeal.
I've also begun attempting yoga over the last several weeks. I can't really say that I do yoga yet, because ... well if you saw me you'd understand, but I have been noticing a few improvements. I'd also heard somewhere a long the way that hula hooping could be a good work out and good for core strengthening, which would in turn potentially help me with yoga.
Cue hula hoop purchase.
I had a bit of a rough go of it yesterday. The hoop is heavy duty and I haven't quite mastered it. The result was some bruising on my shins. That alone wouldn't have been so bad, but while using resistance bands after the hoop disaster, one snapped back and hit me right in the face. It was a comedy of errors y'all. I seriously wish you could've seen me. Needless to say, I went back to the good old reliable treadmill. BUT I am not giving up. At 29 years old, I am determined to master the hoop.
There's about a 7% chance all this new is my way of procrastinating my writing projects. I'm SO good at that, but I think I'll go with it being a new leaf because I'm also making space to focus solely on my writing. I have a few irons in that proverbial fire and it just feels like it's time. Time to go for it. Time to stop stalling because I'm afraid of putting my work out into the universe. It's been half a year since I read my work in front of a public audience in Nashville and while that was a huge step in the right direction for me. I took a few steps back over the last several months.
I know 2016 was kind of the year everyone was ready to see come to a close, but the first few months of 2017 were pretty heavy for a lot of people I know. There's been death, heartache, pain, uphill battles, and personal challenges.
I'm learning more than ever this year, that nothing is a guarantee. My perception of people's lives is only that. And just because you've suffered once, doesn't mean some kind of quota's been filled and you won't suffer again. I truly thought I would have learned that by now.
My word this year is "surrender." I felt God whisper that word to me sometime between the end of last year and the beginning of this one. I thought I knew what it meant, what I had to work on, but I keep finding new meaning in the word, in the practice. I've come to realize I've let myself dwell too long in that place of negativity and darkness. I do well in that place and I don't know why. Some of my best writing comes from that place. For me sadness has always been the easy thing. It's happy that's been hard. And that's what I'm working on surrendering to God right now.
So that's why the new leaf. The reset. The over sharing. I'm ready to do things differently. To start living differently. To go after life in a way I never have before. And it's new and it's scary and there are moments I'm going to get my feelings hurt and the resistance band of life might come back to smack me in the face. But it's worth it. Because right after I actually got hit in the face yesterday... once I got over the shock... I laughed. I laughed loud and for a long time. And that's the balance I need to find... that balance between pain and joy.
Happy weekend, friends. I hope yours is filled with joy and laughter, enough to balance whatever hardships you're facing right now.
Xo,
Lauren
I wouldn't normally share this sort of thing until I knew what the outcome was going to be, but I like the idea of putting it out there and having this sort of abstract accountability. It's also a way for me to track my progress.
As for the decluttering... I've started reading, The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up by Marie Kondo. It's no joke. I'm going to be parting with a whole lot of "stuff" over the next little while... but that's the point. In the little I've done so far, I already feel like a weight's been lifted. I can't wait to get to work on the rest of my apartment. I have this friend who never owns more than she can't sell in a day and buy a ticket halfway around the world for some adventure or another. While I don't think I'll go that far, I am beginning to see the appeal.
I've also begun attempting yoga over the last several weeks. I can't really say that I do yoga yet, because ... well if you saw me you'd understand, but I have been noticing a few improvements. I'd also heard somewhere a long the way that hula hooping could be a good work out and good for core strengthening, which would in turn potentially help me with yoga.
Cue hula hoop purchase.
I had a bit of a rough go of it yesterday. The hoop is heavy duty and I haven't quite mastered it. The result was some bruising on my shins. That alone wouldn't have been so bad, but while using resistance bands after the hoop disaster, one snapped back and hit me right in the face. It was a comedy of errors y'all. I seriously wish you could've seen me. Needless to say, I went back to the good old reliable treadmill. BUT I am not giving up. At 29 years old, I am determined to master the hoop.
There's about a 7% chance all this new is my way of procrastinating my writing projects. I'm SO good at that, but I think I'll go with it being a new leaf because I'm also making space to focus solely on my writing. I have a few irons in that proverbial fire and it just feels like it's time. Time to go for it. Time to stop stalling because I'm afraid of putting my work out into the universe. It's been half a year since I read my work in front of a public audience in Nashville and while that was a huge step in the right direction for me. I took a few steps back over the last several months.
I know 2016 was kind of the year everyone was ready to see come to a close, but the first few months of 2017 were pretty heavy for a lot of people I know. There's been death, heartache, pain, uphill battles, and personal challenges.
I'm learning more than ever this year, that nothing is a guarantee. My perception of people's lives is only that. And just because you've suffered once, doesn't mean some kind of quota's been filled and you won't suffer again. I truly thought I would have learned that by now.
My word this year is "surrender." I felt God whisper that word to me sometime between the end of last year and the beginning of this one. I thought I knew what it meant, what I had to work on, but I keep finding new meaning in the word, in the practice. I've come to realize I've let myself dwell too long in that place of negativity and darkness. I do well in that place and I don't know why. Some of my best writing comes from that place. For me sadness has always been the easy thing. It's happy that's been hard. And that's what I'm working on surrendering to God right now.
So that's why the new leaf. The reset. The over sharing. I'm ready to do things differently. To start living differently. To go after life in a way I never have before. And it's new and it's scary and there are moments I'm going to get my feelings hurt and the resistance band of life might come back to smack me in the face. But it's worth it. Because right after I actually got hit in the face yesterday... once I got over the shock... I laughed. I laughed loud and for a long time. And that's the balance I need to find... that balance between pain and joy.
Happy weekend, friends. I hope yours is filled with joy and laughter, enough to balance whatever hardships you're facing right now.
Xo,
Lauren
Tuesday, February 14, 2017
Not That Kind of Valentine's Day Post
I don't always talk about being single. (Don't worry... this is not a post about it, not really.) I don't always talk about it because to do so would require revealing a very private part of myself. The truth is, I can't wait for the day I'm married and have a family. I have a longing in my heart to be someone's wife and hear little voices call me Mom. And I trust in God's timing to bring the right man into my life, IF that's His plan for me. But more than that, I want to live a life that honors God and accomplishes whatever kingdom work He has for me while I walk this earth. And if that means being single... for now... or forever... I'm okay with that. I wasn't always. It was certainly a learning curve and a position reached through lots of prayer and God giving me a LOT of grace as I struggled to truly understand what putting Him first looked like.
I understand today is a hard day for many people. And I don't want to diminish that at all. I know the loneliness this day can bring with it. There have been years my only Valentine’s cards were from my Mom and my Grandmother. Though I love them, I was still guilty of having that “poor me” attitude. Still I've never considered this Singles Awareness Day, and I've never been bitter over those who have a love story to celebrate. Because the truth is, I do too.
And that brings me to thoughts on my heart as I woke up this morning. I was thinking about my Nonie. My great grandmother. She would have been 111 years old today. She has been and continues to be my family's favorite valentine. And as I thought about her, I thought about how she loved well. I didn't get a lot of time with her, but long after she left this world, I saw and continue to see the fruits of her labor. I see it in the love stories of my grandparents, my aunts and uncles, and my own parents. I see it as I watch our family grow through marriage and more recently through the birth of precious children. I can't wait for them to grow and discover the love of this family.
I simply need close my eyes and I see my childhood, soaked in so much love and I am thankful for the forever memories that comes from that. As an adult, I understand how that didn't just happen... that it was work and a daily decision for each of my aunts, uncles, grandparents, and parents. I probably don't tell them enough how thankful I am for the gift they've given my cousins and I in the examples of love and marriage they've set for us.
I know this story didn't start with Nonie... it goes back generations on both sides of my family. I don't know about those stories, though I'd like to. There may have been some brokenness along the way. All I can do is be grateful for what I know. I was blessed to know all four of my grandparents and experience pieces of their stories and to continue to experience them daily. Though my Grandpa is
no longer here, I listen to the stories my Grandma still loves to tell and soak up the wisdom that's given.
So today, in the wee hours of the morning as I sip my tea and remember Nonie on this Valentine's Day, I'm letting my heart settle on the gratitude I have from the love stories I come from. Including the greatest love story of all. The one we ALL come from.
"For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life." ~ John 3:16
Love you all and Happy Valentine's Day,
Lauren
I understand today is a hard day for many people. And I don't want to diminish that at all. I know the loneliness this day can bring with it. There have been years my only Valentine’s cards were from my Mom and my Grandmother. Though I love them, I was still guilty of having that “poor me” attitude. Still I've never considered this Singles Awareness Day, and I've never been bitter over those who have a love story to celebrate. Because the truth is, I do too.
And that brings me to thoughts on my heart as I woke up this morning. I was thinking about my Nonie. My great grandmother. She would have been 111 years old today. She has been and continues to be my family's favorite valentine. And as I thought about her, I thought about how she loved well. I didn't get a lot of time with her, but long after she left this world, I saw and continue to see the fruits of her labor. I see it in the love stories of my grandparents, my aunts and uncles, and my own parents. I see it as I watch our family grow through marriage and more recently through the birth of precious children. I can't wait for them to grow and discover the love of this family.
I simply need close my eyes and I see my childhood, soaked in so much love and I am thankful for the forever memories that comes from that. As an adult, I understand how that didn't just happen... that it was work and a daily decision for each of my aunts, uncles, grandparents, and parents. I probably don't tell them enough how thankful I am for the gift they've given my cousins and I in the examples of love and marriage they've set for us.
I know this story didn't start with Nonie... it goes back generations on both sides of my family. I don't know about those stories, though I'd like to. There may have been some brokenness along the way. All I can do is be grateful for what I know. I was blessed to know all four of my grandparents and experience pieces of their stories and to continue to experience them daily. Though my Grandpa is
no longer here, I listen to the stories my Grandma still loves to tell and soak up the wisdom that's given.
So today, in the wee hours of the morning as I sip my tea and remember Nonie on this Valentine's Day, I'm letting my heart settle on the gratitude I have from the love stories I come from. Including the greatest love story of all. The one we ALL come from."For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life." ~ John 3:16
Love you all and Happy Valentine's Day,
Lauren
Wednesday, January 25, 2017
Love One Another Well Today
I woke up yesterday morning and didn’t want to get out of bed. Not because I was tired or lazy (which, I’ll admit is sometimes the case) but because my heart felt too heavy to move. This past weekend was a tough one and I found myself lying there, thinking of nothing and everything all at the same time.
I stand by the convictions I held throughout this past election season and don’t regret the decisions I made. I did my best to do so without posting anything polarizing on social media or saying anything that would offend those I care about that believe differently than I do.
I was raised to treat others as I would like to be treated and while I failed miserably as a child and teenager, I'm pretty confident I’ve done better as an adult. I don’t want to be told what to believe and so I won’t tell others what to believe. It seems simple to me.
The point is that I felt I’d made it out of this season relatively unscathed. Until this weekend. I won’t get into specifics, but some things happened and conversations took place and at the end of it all I felt the most disheartened I’d felt in a very long time.
For the most part, I see my Facebook page as being a safe place for people. I want my family and friends to know they can “visit” my page and not get attacked or experience a rude encounter or see something that is overly offensive. (Disclaimer: I love Jesus and post things about Him often, so if you find Him offensive, 1, this is your head’s up and 2, we should probably talk because I’m not sure we know the same Jesus.)
There is a time I would have retaliated to someone's unkind or accusatory posts in rash words, without thinking, without praying, just eager to get my point across and have my voice heard. It has been a weakness of mine. But something I learned over the weekend is that even when we don’t notice it, God is working to change our hearts.
And so I didn’t react. I waited and I prayed. And in my weakness, I found His strength.
This is my response to the world around me right now. My prayer is that you look past the words you might disagree with, and listen to hear my heart behind them…
To everyone reading this, know that I see you. I hear you. I love you.
I don't say those words lightly. Because sometimes it isn't easy. Sometimes I hear your words and I want to scream. I want to yell at you for making assumptions about me, for trying to tell the world I'm someone that I'm not. I want to chastise you for appearing hypocritical in your approach with those who disagree with you... and I want you to stop talking and start listening. And not just listen to retaliate, but listen to understand.
But I know if I reacted that way and said some of those words, I'd be guilty of the same thing and all that would do is leave us in this never ending cycle of hate. And that's not what I'm about, and I want you to know that's not what I'm about.
So, what do I say?
I say we do better to love each other well today. Yesterday is gone. What we did, what we said, we can't take back. But today is new and tomorrow newer and we can do better now. We can stop letting the hateful actions and words of others determine our own. We can decide right here, right now, to listen to hear people's hearts, even when we don't agree with their words. Because just as strongly as you believe what you believe, there are people out there believing just as strongly in something else.
Hateful words, dismissive attitudes, and acts of violence will never unite us. Nor will blaming an entire group of people for the actions of extreme individuals. We need to stop listening to retaliate and begin listening to understand. Only then will we create a safe space to voice our differences.
It's possible to have different opinions from one another without tearing each other down. Stop making assumptions and start having conversations... preferably in person. And when they can't happen in person, don't let the tempting convenience of hateful words typed on a keyboard determine your character.
It's one thing to know this, but putting it into action? I just confessed to you how tempting it is for me to want to do the exact opposite. I don't always want to love the difficult people in my life. Why should I sacrifice for those who are rude to me or don't care one way or another about me? Why should I show them kindness when they are hurtful and cause pain?
I need only travel as far as the closest mirror for my answer. I am messy. I am stubborn. I am selfish. Sometimes I annoy people, sometimes I have a short temper, sometimes I say the wrong thing and hurt people I care about. Sometimes I'm jealous and and at my worst I know I can be just plain mean. I am often full of pride and full of sin, usually showing up as one in the same...
BUT Jesus loves that imperfect person staring back at me in the mirror and He offers me grace... daily.
And we can do that for one another. Because Jesus says we can. He calls us to love people. And not only that, but He calls us to love people just as He loves people. He gave us so many examples of what it looks like to not only love the people in our lives, but to love the difficult people in our lives.
He healed the high priest's servant who came to arrest him, knowing this would not sway the outcome. (Luke 22:47-51) He asked God to forgive those who'd just nailed Him to the cross. (Luke 23:32-34) And he was always seeking out those who society had cast aside as insignificant, as enemies, or as simply different.
In short, He repaid hate with love, kindness, and forgiveness. His love is not limited to those who love Him back, but extended to the the very people who hated and continue to hate that He walked the earth.
That's the kind of love He has for us and calls us to show to others.
Jesus is and will always be the perfect response to hate... to fear... to disunity. And if He can love me... surely I can do the same for others.
When my feelings are hurt, when I am judged for my beliefs or for my politics, when I am cut off in traffic, when I get the short end of the stick, when people's words make me angry or afraid, when I feel misunderstood or beaten down... I can respond with love. I can remember that in my weakness, He is strong (2 Corinthians 12:9). In the moments I am quick to anger, His response is always patience and grace. And it is through Him I can love others well.
Of course He's the perfect response... the perfect word... He's THE Word. It is because of Him we have hope, we know love, and there will be healing.
All of this brokenness, the anger, the frustrations, the tears, the divisiveness. It's all temporary. But if that remains our focus... we've lost sight of what's permanent. What's eternal.
And here's the thing. There are likely some of you reading this who don't believe in Jesus. Maybe He's not your word or your response. Maybe you've been burned by people who claim to love Jesus, but they've failed to show you who He truly is. Please hear me because I'm speaking to you too. No matter what you believe, it's a lot easier to love than to hate and our world will be better for it. People will be better for it. You will be better for it.
Whatever your religion is, whatever your race is, if you're gay, straight, democrat, republican, male, female, transgender, or in the middle of figuring out who you are, whether you love me, like me, or despise me...
I still see you. I still hear you. I still love you. And there will be times I mess up... respond too rashly, say the wrong thing... but you have my word I will own those moments, apologize, and always try to do better.
I promise to try and hear your heart, even when I disagree with your words.
I promise to not let the words of others nor the extreme actions of a few represent who you are.
And on those occasions we can't find common ground, I promise to be kind and gracious while you stand yours and I, mine.
Let us all make a greater effort to be the bigger person. Let us stop pointing to the wrong actions and ill-spoken words of others to justify our own. Let's do better to love each other well.
And know I am a safe place to voice your opinion... even if it's different than mine.
Love you all!
Xo,
Lauren
“A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another."
I stand by the convictions I held throughout this past election season and don’t regret the decisions I made. I did my best to do so without posting anything polarizing on social media or saying anything that would offend those I care about that believe differently than I do.
I was raised to treat others as I would like to be treated and while I failed miserably as a child and teenager, I'm pretty confident I’ve done better as an adult. I don’t want to be told what to believe and so I won’t tell others what to believe. It seems simple to me.
The point is that I felt I’d made it out of this season relatively unscathed. Until this weekend. I won’t get into specifics, but some things happened and conversations took place and at the end of it all I felt the most disheartened I’d felt in a very long time.
For the most part, I see my Facebook page as being a safe place for people. I want my family and friends to know they can “visit” my page and not get attacked or experience a rude encounter or see something that is overly offensive. (Disclaimer: I love Jesus and post things about Him often, so if you find Him offensive, 1, this is your head’s up and 2, we should probably talk because I’m not sure we know the same Jesus.)
There is a time I would have retaliated to someone's unkind or accusatory posts in rash words, without thinking, without praying, just eager to get my point across and have my voice heard. It has been a weakness of mine. But something I learned over the weekend is that even when we don’t notice it, God is working to change our hearts.
And so I didn’t react. I waited and I prayed. And in my weakness, I found His strength.
This is my response to the world around me right now. My prayer is that you look past the words you might disagree with, and listen to hear my heart behind them…
I don't say those words lightly. Because sometimes it isn't easy. Sometimes I hear your words and I want to scream. I want to yell at you for making assumptions about me, for trying to tell the world I'm someone that I'm not. I want to chastise you for appearing hypocritical in your approach with those who disagree with you... and I want you to stop talking and start listening. And not just listen to retaliate, but listen to understand.
But I know if I reacted that way and said some of those words, I'd be guilty of the same thing and all that would do is leave us in this never ending cycle of hate. And that's not what I'm about, and I want you to know that's not what I'm about.
So, what do I say?
I say we do better to love each other well today. Yesterday is gone. What we did, what we said, we can't take back. But today is new and tomorrow newer and we can do better now. We can stop letting the hateful actions and words of others determine our own. We can decide right here, right now, to listen to hear people's hearts, even when we don't agree with their words. Because just as strongly as you believe what you believe, there are people out there believing just as strongly in something else.
Hateful words, dismissive attitudes, and acts of violence will never unite us. Nor will blaming an entire group of people for the actions of extreme individuals. We need to stop listening to retaliate and begin listening to understand. Only then will we create a safe space to voice our differences.
It's possible to have different opinions from one another without tearing each other down. Stop making assumptions and start having conversations... preferably in person. And when they can't happen in person, don't let the tempting convenience of hateful words typed on a keyboard determine your character.
It's one thing to know this, but putting it into action? I just confessed to you how tempting it is for me to want to do the exact opposite. I don't always want to love the difficult people in my life. Why should I sacrifice for those who are rude to me or don't care one way or another about me? Why should I show them kindness when they are hurtful and cause pain?
I need only travel as far as the closest mirror for my answer. I am messy. I am stubborn. I am selfish. Sometimes I annoy people, sometimes I have a short temper, sometimes I say the wrong thing and hurt people I care about. Sometimes I'm jealous and and at my worst I know I can be just plain mean. I am often full of pride and full of sin, usually showing up as one in the same...
BUT Jesus loves that imperfect person staring back at me in the mirror and He offers me grace... daily.
And we can do that for one another. Because Jesus says we can. He calls us to love people. And not only that, but He calls us to love people just as He loves people. He gave us so many examples of what it looks like to not only love the people in our lives, but to love the difficult people in our lives.
He healed the high priest's servant who came to arrest him, knowing this would not sway the outcome. (Luke 22:47-51) He asked God to forgive those who'd just nailed Him to the cross. (Luke 23:32-34) And he was always seeking out those who society had cast aside as insignificant, as enemies, or as simply different.
In short, He repaid hate with love, kindness, and forgiveness. His love is not limited to those who love Him back, but extended to the the very people who hated and continue to hate that He walked the earth.
That's the kind of love He has for us and calls us to show to others.
Jesus is and will always be the perfect response to hate... to fear... to disunity. And if He can love me... surely I can do the same for others.
When my feelings are hurt, when I am judged for my beliefs or for my politics, when I am cut off in traffic, when I get the short end of the stick, when people's words make me angry or afraid, when I feel misunderstood or beaten down... I can respond with love. I can remember that in my weakness, He is strong (2 Corinthians 12:9). In the moments I am quick to anger, His response is always patience and grace. And it is through Him I can love others well.
Of course He's the perfect response... the perfect word... He's THE Word. It is because of Him we have hope, we know love, and there will be healing.
All of this brokenness, the anger, the frustrations, the tears, the divisiveness. It's all temporary. But if that remains our focus... we've lost sight of what's permanent. What's eternal.
And here's the thing. There are likely some of you reading this who don't believe in Jesus. Maybe He's not your word or your response. Maybe you've been burned by people who claim to love Jesus, but they've failed to show you who He truly is. Please hear me because I'm speaking to you too. No matter what you believe, it's a lot easier to love than to hate and our world will be better for it. People will be better for it. You will be better for it.
Whatever your religion is, whatever your race is, if you're gay, straight, democrat, republican, male, female, transgender, or in the middle of figuring out who you are, whether you love me, like me, or despise me...
I still see you. I still hear you. I still love you. And there will be times I mess up... respond too rashly, say the wrong thing... but you have my word I will own those moments, apologize, and always try to do better.
I promise to try and hear your heart, even when I disagree with your words.
I promise to not let the words of others nor the extreme actions of a few represent who you are.
And on those occasions we can't find common ground, I promise to be kind and gracious while you stand yours and I, mine.
Let us all make a greater effort to be the bigger person. Let us stop pointing to the wrong actions and ill-spoken words of others to justify our own. Let's do better to love each other well.
And know I am a safe place to voice your opinion... even if it's different than mine.
Love you all!
Xo,
Lauren
“A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another."
- John 13:34
Sunday, January 22, 2017
Walt Disney World 10k
I’ve watched and admired my sister for the past eleven years run the Half Marathon in Disney World. Her very first one was a little over a month before our brother James died, and she’s continued running in his memory every year since. Often I’ve been able to go and cheer her on; usually around mile 5 and then we find her again at mile 13 for the finish line.
There’s nothing like it. It’s hard to put into words what it feels like to stand there cheering people on, reading signs they’re carrying (or wearing) telling on lookers who they’re running for. Everyone is running for someone. Some military men and women run in full gear, same with firefighters and members of our police force. Others run the entire way pushing those in wheelchairs who can’t do it on their own.
I’ve seen men and women in their 70’s, 80’s, and even 90’s running and walking for loved ones, fighting for every step they take. I promise you can’t go and not shed a tear at some point. Several years ago a military spouse had organized a half marathon to take place simultaneously halfway around the world where they were serving. He wanted to surprise his wife who would be running in Disney World. She didn't find out until she crossed the finish line. Her husband getting to watch as she did... and then video conference with her. They talked about how proud they were of each other and he told her he'd be home soon. There weren't a pair of eyes watching, not filled with tears.
There’s this kind of camaraderie that exists among the onlookers. The ones who aren’t running, but are doing their best to encourage those who are. A knowing that passes from one set of eyes to the next as we shout, blow noisemakers, and ring bells. We all end up cheering for each other's runners.
Last year several of us decided to sign up for the 10k which usually takes place on the day before the half marathon. If you know me, you know I’m not exactly the athletic type, but I figured a whole year was long enough to prepare to get through 6.2 miles. I'd never done a 10k, but I’d walked a few 5ks as a kid. How different could it be? Plus, as long as we weren't in the last coral, I'd have plenty of time.
Well a year turned to half a year, which turned to a couple months, and then suddenly there I was, a few days before the main event. Despite the not exactly regular trips to the gym, and the occasional outdoor hike in the hills of Tennessee, I was exactly where I was a year ago when I signed up. Go figure.
To say I was nervous was a bit of an understatement. It wasn't so much the 6.21 miles so much as it was the time limit attached to them. I kept picturing getting dragged off the course by the pace police with one of those hooks they use to take those humorless comedians off stage. All while someone's yelling “you’re too slow!” from the sidelines.
Whose idea had this been again? Maybe I should sit it out. I kept saying I didn't want to start unless I knew I could finish. I realized that often that’s my approach to life. How often do I avoid doing something because I don’t know how it’s going to turn out? Too often. I decided I didn’t want that to be my story anymore. I was going to do this.
As we were getting ready the night before I asked a crucial question. Should I wear my regular headphones or the wireless ones I’d gotten for Christmas? The consensus was the regular ones. This will come into play later.
The morning of the race we woke up at around 3:30 so we could get on the bus that would take us to the starting line. It was myself, my parents, my sister Nora, my cousin Jonathan, and his girlfriend Anna. There was a kind of energy among those heading to the race... my confidence was once again growing. I could do this.
We spent a fairly large portion of the waiting time talking strategy and how we would stay together and try to get to the front of the coral at the starting point to maximize our time. Anna and Jonathan had graciously hung back a few corals to wait, but were planning on running the whole thing. Fireworks went off as portions of corals A-E crossed the starting line. We were in F... the last coral. Our time was coming. I got my headphones out of my pocket, plugging them into my phone and and conveniently tucking the buds into the collar of my shirt so I could continue to follow the conversation taking place around me.
We had a plan, we were together, we were excited, this was going to be great! Finally, they removed the gates from the front of our coral, ushering us forward. That was about the time I remembered I'm not really a fan of crowds. I kept getting jerked back like someone was pulling my jacket… and I’d turn around to look for the culprit, but no one was there. After the third or fourth time, I looked down and saw that my headphones had fallen to the ground and were dragging from where they were plugged into my phone in my pocket. By the time I rescued them, they were crushed and completely useless.
I wanted to cry. I’d spend hours determining which songs would get me through those moments when I felt I wouldn’t be able to take one more step.
While I was distracted by my headphone trauma, we found ourselves at the starting line. In the few minutes since we’d left the coral we’d managed to all get separated. So much for our strategy.
Let me pause here. I said I’d never done a 10k. That didn’t stop me from thinking I pretty much had the rundown figured out. It was going to be exactly like the 5k's I'd done, except longer. You know, those chill, local, community gatherings, complete with small kids riding in wagons kind of 5ks. Yes, we were in Disney. Yes, there were thousands of people participating. But we were in the last coral with all the walkers. Low stress, smooth sailing, it was going to be fine.
So... I was a little wrong. The start gun went off and cue the chaos. EVERYONE took off in a mad dash. I had not been expecting this. Not wanting to get trampled, I started running as well, all the while looking around trying to find my parents and Nora. I mentally waved goodbye to Jonathan and Anna as I caught a glimpse of them already yards in the distance.
I'd like to take this moment to provide you with a visual.
Lauren's 10k start experience... (click here)
In case it wasn't clear, I'm Simba.
I panicked a little... there was no way I could run for the next six miles. This was how I was going to die. Instead of running from the pace police, I began thinking of subtle ways to "accidentally" get picked up by them. A pain in my side? A sprained ankle? I really wish I'd taken the time to perfect fainting in my acting class all those years ago.
About a third of the way through our first mile we all found each other again. Nora and my Dad paired off and I stuck by my Mom. My sister checked us out on the pacing app she'd dowloaded. I won't get specific but it didn't look good and this of course had my Dad in stitches for a moment. Everyone was super focused and didn't really feel much like chatting. This made for a very quiet start to my music-less self.
About two miles in, I'd found my mantra... "Don't stop moving." About 2.3 miles in, I remembered reading something about ridding your vocabulary of all negativity, so I shifted my mantra to "keep moving." Nora and my Dad were in the lead... my Mom was just ahead of me... which if you did the math, know that left me in last place. I was clearly the least prepared of all.
I'd be in step with my Mom, fall behind, jog a little faster to catch up, then inevitably fall behind again. It became a pretty steady pattern. Right around mile 3, my Dad had to use the restroom. We tried to get him to go in the woods, but it was a no go. As he got in the 20 or so people long line, we kept going. He promised to catch up.
I should say here that at the time my bladder also could've used a little relieving, but I also knew that I would not be able to catch up and would 100% get hooked by the pace police. I should also note, I'm not really sure they are called the pace police.
Just as we hit mile 3 my Mom and sister became a bit more chatty. We were also about to head into Epcot at the World Showcase... I was hoping this would be an energy booster. I'm a firm believer there's no such thing as misery in Disney World. It's the happiest place on the earth!
My Dad caught up and we were ready to conquer this thing. We even played it a little dangerously and stopped for a picture. No sign of the pace police. Phew. As we speed walked through the countries, seeing characters, and hearing music... I felt ready to kick it up a notch and started jogging. I was, dare I say it, enjoying myself.
All we had to do, according to what I thought at the time, was round the World Showcase, make our way back out of the park and cross the finish line. Easy breezy. I wasn't taking into account we'd only just about gotten to mile 4 which left an additional 2 miles. Also turns out I'd been basing that knowledge on the 5k map. Just as I thought we were getting to the home stretch... I looked ahead to see a whole lot of people running in the opposite direction than where I thought we were supposed to be going.
I really wanted them to be wrong. Maybe these were all the injured people, jogging off the course... like those injured football players that still want to save face. No such luck. They were heading for the back entrance to the park which opens up into the another huge lake surrounded by three hotels, all of which we had to run by. It meant bridges which meant hills which meant... this thing was far from the home stretch.
I tried to suck it up and kept moving. At one point we passed someone holding a sign that said "touch for power." I was skeptical, but my eternal five-year-old self was not going to miss that opportunity. I should of known... we were in DISNEY. It totally worked. A little over one mile to go and I was cruising. I'm talking Rocky theme song. (Just in my head because if you'll remember... no headphones.) There's a strong chance I was just delirious.
I guess I got a little ahead of myself because suddenly I wasn't with my family anymore. It was about then I heard the first and only person update us on pace... we were 30 seconds ahead. I couldn't bring myself to turn around. I'd seen the medal at the expo and it was so cool. I did NOT get to mile five just to not finish. Not going to happen. I picked up the pace and called my sister.
I'm going to be real. I was facing a moral dilemma. I didn't want to leave my family behind, but man I really wanted that medal. My internal struggle could be seen outwardly as I found myself running in circles below the Epcot ball while on the phone with my sister trying to figure out where they were.
My dilemma was short-lived as I was overestimating the speed at which I was jogging. Turns out they were right behind me.
We were still in the game.
It was right about this point we saw a guy standing up out of his wheelchair in a full body brace. He wanted to walk across the finish line. And he was doing just that.. step by step surrounded by people helping him and cheering him on.
I no longer felt like I'd done anything special. It didn't matter if I finished... medal or no medal, that moment made the whole thing worth it.
There we were... yards from the finish line. My parents held hands and reached out to my sister and I. In that moment we were thinking of James. How could we not. He'd been the reason my sister started running years ago and he was the reason we were all doing this now.
I gladly and graciously accepted my medal as someone placed it over my head. And silently wondered how my sister did twice this every year... and if I could pull off an additional 7 miles for the Half Marathon next year.... ;)
Xo,
Lauren
There’s nothing like it. It’s hard to put into words what it feels like to stand there cheering people on, reading signs they’re carrying (or wearing) telling on lookers who they’re running for. Everyone is running for someone. Some military men and women run in full gear, same with firefighters and members of our police force. Others run the entire way pushing those in wheelchairs who can’t do it on their own.
I’ve seen men and women in their 70’s, 80’s, and even 90’s running and walking for loved ones, fighting for every step they take. I promise you can’t go and not shed a tear at some point. Several years ago a military spouse had organized a half marathon to take place simultaneously halfway around the world where they were serving. He wanted to surprise his wife who would be running in Disney World. She didn't find out until she crossed the finish line. Her husband getting to watch as she did... and then video conference with her. They talked about how proud they were of each other and he told her he'd be home soon. There weren't a pair of eyes watching, not filled with tears.
There’s this kind of camaraderie that exists among the onlookers. The ones who aren’t running, but are doing their best to encourage those who are. A knowing that passes from one set of eyes to the next as we shout, blow noisemakers, and ring bells. We all end up cheering for each other's runners.
Last year several of us decided to sign up for the 10k which usually takes place on the day before the half marathon. If you know me, you know I’m not exactly the athletic type, but I figured a whole year was long enough to prepare to get through 6.2 miles. I'd never done a 10k, but I’d walked a few 5ks as a kid. How different could it be? Plus, as long as we weren't in the last coral, I'd have plenty of time.
Well a year turned to half a year, which turned to a couple months, and then suddenly there I was, a few days before the main event. Despite the not exactly regular trips to the gym, and the occasional outdoor hike in the hills of Tennessee, I was exactly where I was a year ago when I signed up. Go figure.
To say I was nervous was a bit of an understatement. It wasn't so much the 6.21 miles so much as it was the time limit attached to them. I kept picturing getting dragged off the course by the pace police with one of those hooks they use to take those humorless comedians off stage. All while someone's yelling “you’re too slow!” from the sidelines.
 |
| Early morning at the hotel before heading to the buses! |
As we were getting ready the night before I asked a crucial question. Should I wear my regular headphones or the wireless ones I’d gotten for Christmas? The consensus was the regular ones. This will come into play later.
The morning of the race we woke up at around 3:30 so we could get on the bus that would take us to the starting line. It was myself, my parents, my sister Nora, my cousin Jonathan, and his girlfriend Anna. There was a kind of energy among those heading to the race... my confidence was once again growing. I could do this.
 |
| Still in that naively sweet excitement stage before the race! |
We had a plan, we were together, we were excited, this was going to be great! Finally, they removed the gates from the front of our coral, ushering us forward. That was about the time I remembered I'm not really a fan of crowds. I kept getting jerked back like someone was pulling my jacket… and I’d turn around to look for the culprit, but no one was there. After the third or fourth time, I looked down and saw that my headphones had fallen to the ground and were dragging from where they were plugged into my phone in my pocket. By the time I rescued them, they were crushed and completely useless.
I wanted to cry. I’d spend hours determining which songs would get me through those moments when I felt I wouldn’t be able to take one more step.
While I was distracted by my headphone trauma, we found ourselves at the starting line. In the few minutes since we’d left the coral we’d managed to all get separated. So much for our strategy.
Let me pause here. I said I’d never done a 10k. That didn’t stop me from thinking I pretty much had the rundown figured out. It was going to be exactly like the 5k's I'd done, except longer. You know, those chill, local, community gatherings, complete with small kids riding in wagons kind of 5ks. Yes, we were in Disney. Yes, there were thousands of people participating. But we were in the last coral with all the walkers. Low stress, smooth sailing, it was going to be fine.
So... I was a little wrong. The start gun went off and cue the chaos. EVERYONE took off in a mad dash. I had not been expecting this. Not wanting to get trampled, I started running as well, all the while looking around trying to find my parents and Nora. I mentally waved goodbye to Jonathan and Anna as I caught a glimpse of them already yards in the distance.
I'd like to take this moment to provide you with a visual.
Lauren's 10k start experience... (click here)
In case it wasn't clear, I'm Simba.
I panicked a little... there was no way I could run for the next six miles. This was how I was going to die. Instead of running from the pace police, I began thinking of subtle ways to "accidentally" get picked up by them. A pain in my side? A sprained ankle? I really wish I'd taken the time to perfect fainting in my acting class all those years ago.
About a third of the way through our first mile we all found each other again. Nora and my Dad paired off and I stuck by my Mom. My sister checked us out on the pacing app she'd dowloaded. I won't get specific but it didn't look good and this of course had my Dad in stitches for a moment. Everyone was super focused and didn't really feel much like chatting. This made for a very quiet start to my music-less self.
About two miles in, I'd found my mantra... "Don't stop moving." About 2.3 miles in, I remembered reading something about ridding your vocabulary of all negativity, so I shifted my mantra to "keep moving." Nora and my Dad were in the lead... my Mom was just ahead of me... which if you did the math, know that left me in last place. I was clearly the least prepared of all.
I'd be in step with my Mom, fall behind, jog a little faster to catch up, then inevitably fall behind again. It became a pretty steady pattern. Right around mile 3, my Dad had to use the restroom. We tried to get him to go in the woods, but it was a no go. As he got in the 20 or so people long line, we kept going. He promised to catch up.
I should say here that at the time my bladder also could've used a little relieving, but I also knew that I would not be able to catch up and would 100% get hooked by the pace police. I should also note, I'm not really sure they are called the pace police.
Just as we hit mile 3 my Mom and sister became a bit more chatty. We were also about to head into Epcot at the World Showcase... I was hoping this would be an energy booster. I'm a firm believer there's no such thing as misery in Disney World. It's the happiest place on the earth!
My Dad caught up and we were ready to conquer this thing. We even played it a little dangerously and stopped for a picture. No sign of the pace police. Phew. As we speed walked through the countries, seeing characters, and hearing music... I felt ready to kick it up a notch and started jogging. I was, dare I say it, enjoying myself.
 |
| Jogging our way though China! |
All we had to do, according to what I thought at the time, was round the World Showcase, make our way back out of the park and cross the finish line. Easy breezy. I wasn't taking into account we'd only just about gotten to mile 4 which left an additional 2 miles. Also turns out I'd been basing that knowledge on the 5k map. Just as I thought we were getting to the home stretch... I looked ahead to see a whole lot of people running in the opposite direction than where I thought we were supposed to be going.
I really wanted them to be wrong. Maybe these were all the injured people, jogging off the course... like those injured football players that still want to save face. No such luck. They were heading for the back entrance to the park which opens up into the another huge lake surrounded by three hotels, all of which we had to run by. It meant bridges which meant hills which meant... this thing was far from the home stretch.
I tried to suck it up and kept moving. At one point we passed someone holding a sign that said "touch for power." I was skeptical, but my eternal five-year-old self was not going to miss that opportunity. I should of known... we were in DISNEY. It totally worked. A little over one mile to go and I was cruising. I'm talking Rocky theme song. (Just in my head because if you'll remember... no headphones.) There's a strong chance I was just delirious.
I guess I got a little ahead of myself because suddenly I wasn't with my family anymore. It was about then I heard the first and only person update us on pace... we were 30 seconds ahead. I couldn't bring myself to turn around. I'd seen the medal at the expo and it was so cool. I did NOT get to mile five just to not finish. Not going to happen. I picked up the pace and called my sister.
I'm going to be real. I was facing a moral dilemma. I didn't want to leave my family behind, but man I really wanted that medal. My internal struggle could be seen outwardly as I found myself running in circles below the Epcot ball while on the phone with my sister trying to figure out where they were.
My dilemma was short-lived as I was overestimating the speed at which I was jogging. Turns out they were right behind me.
We were still in the game.
It was right about this point we saw a guy standing up out of his wheelchair in a full body brace. He wanted to walk across the finish line. And he was doing just that.. step by step surrounded by people helping him and cheering him on.
I no longer felt like I'd done anything special. It didn't matter if I finished... medal or no medal, that moment made the whole thing worth it.
There we were... yards from the finish line. My parents held hands and reached out to my sister and I. In that moment we were thinking of James. How could we not. He'd been the reason my sister started running years ago and he was the reason we were all doing this now.
 |
| We did it! |
 |
| Got Our Medals! |
Hand in hand, we crossed the finish line. Just beyond it were my aunt, uncle, cousins, and Anna cheering us on. Emotions were high. Thoughts were on James.... and my mom. She was feeling the side effects of the oral chemo medication she is still on. It wreaks havoc on her joints and she felt every step of the last .2 miles. But she did it. We all did. And we were all pretty proud of her and ourselves.
I gladly and graciously accepted my medal as someone placed it over my head. And silently wondered how my sister did twice this every year... and if I could pull off an additional 7 miles for the Half Marathon next year.... ;)
Xo,
Lauren
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