Leaps of faith are life-changing.

I moved to Atlanta the day after my sister's wedding in August of 1998 with a friend with whom I had just graduated from Hendrix.  I had visited Atlanta and secured a job (Avondale Elem.) in DeKalb County over the previou months and was excited to have a job, move away from Arkansas, and be an independent, employeed college graduate.

I met John about a month later and the rest is history...yet another strange happening in my life that seemed too good to be true.  That story is also interesting.

So, three years after that, we are married, have a house, and I weasel my way into Livsey and into one of the most rewarding parts of my life as a teacher to some of the best kids and families I have ever known. 

To leave all of that was a very unexpected decision.  Three weeks ago I was ready to come back to Livsey as a 5th grade teacher, something I had wanted to be for many years.  I knew the students because I had taught them the previous year.  I knew the families and had their blessings to teach them again.  I was really excited.

It seemed perfect, and yet, out of nowhere, it became incredibly apparent to me that I couldn't go back.  I knew that if I did, I would not be what those kids deserved because I was beginning to go through a transformation.   A break was what I needed and time to decide what I wanted to be for the rest of my life.  Being with my family more, both physically and emotionally, was at the front of my mind and though I know I will return to the classroom in some capacity, I can't say what that will be.

Right now I am relishing a cup of coffee after sending my kids off to school on the first day that I am no longer impacting kids directly and daily in my own classroom.  I am going to do laundry, clean the kitchen, and plan dinner so that when John comes home, he will know how much I appreciate his support while I work things out for myself.  I don't know what I would do without him.

There is no doubt in my mind that God has His hand in this.  There have been so many signs...too many to mention-and some that shouldn't be mentioned.  I had been searching for more and He decided three weeks ago that it was time for more.  It just came in a way that I never expected...nor could I control.

Isn't that the way it always works?  You search and search and just when you think you have found nothing, you are shown the very thing you never knew you needed?  I am so thankful for my journey and am at peace with my choice to leave my safe little Livsey world.  I just wish I could take the kids and families I love with me!

My body is still kickin'...kinda.

#390 Lowman, Leigh 36 F Swim-41:10 Pace-2:45 T1-3:32 Bike-1:58:40 Pace-13.2 T2 1:39 Run-1:16:09 Pace-12:16 Total Time-4:01:08

So, a year's worth of training came to fruition this past weekend as Nancy Herbert and I participated in the Tugaloo Olympic Triathlon. A lofty goal, the Tugaloo is one of the hardest triathlon courses in Georgia. It consists of a one mile swim, 26 mile bike, and 6.2 mile run, in that order. Might I mention that this is a qualifying race for the Ironman Hawaii.

Now I have participated in two half marathons, many 5ks and 10ks, and several sprint triathlons. Nothing compared me for this. And if I thought I was going to do well, I was sadly mistaken. While life made it difficult to truly train for this triathlon, I quickly realized that this was a triathlon for young, fit, beautiful, cut people...except for the few 60+ year old hard-core competitors. Waaaaay out of my league.

I did have a few goals.
1. I did not want to finish last.
2. I did not want to quit.
3. I wanted to complete the entire race in less than 4 1/2 hours.
4. I did not want to drown, wreck, or fall.
5. I wanted to finish before they took down the Finish Line, so my name would be called over the microphone.

I realize that I met all of my goals.
1. I finished like, 10th to last.
2. I did not give up and actually felt good throughout the race.
3. I completed the race in 4 hours 1 minute and 8 seconds.
4. I did get water up my nose, wobbled a few times on some potholes, and stumbled on the run.
5. I finished and had my named called right before they took down the Finish Line.

I cannot think of anything that is physically more stressful, difficult, and yet so fulfilling, than to complete an Olympic triathlon. Crossing the finish line, knowing I had accomplished my goals, and knowing I was still lucid and happy, was such a great feeling. Don't get me wrong. I felt every last second of the entire race. I talked to myself, talked to others, made fun of myself, and cheered on those who seemed to be struggling.

I do not think I will compete in a race like this again, but I am so thankful to know that I did it. I will cross it off my Bucket List and know I did the best I could do. I do stand by an earlier, relevant observation, though. No man, no matter how lovely, should EVER wear just a Speedo. Gross.

The apocalypse

So, I believe I last posted in December of 2010. Not sure a whole lot has changed since then, except that now the world is coming to an end...this weekend. Not really sure how I feel about this since I have a bunch of fun stuff planned for this summer. But let's say it happens.

1. Will I go to heaven?
2. Will my family and friends join me if I do?
3. What about Hank?
4. Who do I need to talk to when I get there so that all of those I love, even those who struggle with belief, will be with me in the afterlife? After all, my happiness IS the most important thing.
5. And I WILL have words with those in charge to advocate for those I love.

Seriously, though, even if nothing happens this weekend, we should evaluate where we are in our lives. For Christians or non-believers, an event like this should make us all stop and think. If you are reading this, you are of age and have made some good and bad life decisions, lived a little, and learned even more (or less, as the case may be). Otherwise, you wouldn't be taking the time to see what I have to say. I have lived a TON, would make different decisions, and am stronger because of my experiences, both good and bad.

This weekend, I will take time to make sure I am treating people with respect, following the Golden Rule, continuing to strive to be my best, and enjoying the most important thing given to me on this earth. My family. In the end, these people love us for good and bad and there is nothing I wouldn't risk to make sure they are safe and happy.

Good luck this weekend!!! We will be camping!!!

The holidays can be really wonderful.

So many things are different now during the holidays than when I was younger. I find that I just coast along and take things as they come. Fortunately for me, I don't have to cook and entertain at my house. My WONDERFUL inlaws have hosted Christmas Eve and Christmas Day at their house for many years. I tried to cook for their family once. Let's just say we won't do it again anytime soon. While I know my strengths, I can also appreciate my shortcomings...

It was our first Christmas without Dad this year too. We all had a very tolerable (actually fun) and stress-free time! I missed hearing his smartass comments and familial inserts. He had this funny language that my sisters and I try to imitate and memorialize. It's so goofy, but it was who we were.

Despite the fun, I had to appreciate the irony of it all:

I went to look for my new bike on Christmas Eve at about 1pm. I ended up back home 30 minutes before we were to be at church for William to sing (4:30) because I a) got bad directions (THANK YOU JOHN) to the bike place and b) had to go to a second bike place. By the end I was DONE with life and ready to go to bed.

Thomas woke up with a fever at 3am on Christmas morning. Not a mild fever, though, it was one of those that requires you to get up out of a deep sleep and get your kid Motrin and stay awake to make sure it worked. Fifths Disease was the culprit and we are still battling it two days later. He's 7. I thought we were done with these pesky diseases.

We woke up Christmas morning and opened gifts. After that, we (I) decided to watch the Nutcracker. Sadly, when William thought the Nutcracker had died after the battle with the mice, he cried like a baby. It took me a while to convince him that the Nutcracker would come back to life. As we were watching, Thomas couldn't stand it anymore and periodically danced like MJ to the rest of the pieces. Needless to say, we didn't finish the ballet, but we had fun- in an unconventional sort of way.

At one point, I was practicing my new holiday song, 'Shingle bells, shingle bells, shingles on my face."

Then, I overheared a conversation between John and Thomas. Thomas was saying that he promised he'd TRY to be good, but didn't promise he'd actually be good. That's been our mantra for the break so far...

At one point, I was listening around the house and realized that John could only use the 'Santa's watching' thing for about 8 more hours. I immediately started looking for things that we could use for the rest of the break, but couldn't come up with anything.

I could probably come up with a few more good stories, but what stole the cake was actually having a white Christmas in Atlanta. Apparently it had been over 100 years since that had happened. The boys, my mom and my sister were overwhelmed with the sight. It truly was beautiful and very special. At one point, one of the boys said that Poppy was making it snow. How true and how beautiful that he was with us, despite being absent.

We hope to have a prosperous and positively eventful 2011.

Boys are so different than girls.

It happens every day. We come in from school, unpack our stuff, and the boys immediately go into the den to play 'Hut, Hut, Hike.' What's that, you ask? Well, if you must know, it's an indoor version of tackle football played in a very small area that usually involves Thomas throwing William's little body to the ground to impede his quest for a touchdown. That act is usually followed by much whining by William, which leads to Thomas allowing him his own touchdown, which is necessary to William deciding to play another down.

I don't understand what compels little boys to be in constant motion and physical contact with one another, but it seems that they are always competing, trying to be first, and one-upping each other. I see such hateful attitudes and unfair behavior sometimes. It reminds me of growing up with siblings myself. Man, we were really tough on each other. It's really strange to see it in your own children.

Even though I don't understand it, it seems to be a very natural and fun way to interact with one another. I must say that I have seen many unsolicited acts of brotherly love during this play and hope that my boys are learning how to be compassionate. They have this great relationship and seem to really like spending quality time together lately, even if it involves throwing each other to the ground.

I am happy they have each other. Long after we are gone, I wish that they will become the best of friends. Family is everything.

Something good will come from diabetes.

It is the eve of the JDRF walk for diabetes. This will be the second year we have participated in William's short five year life.

He was diagnosed at 20 months-a baby still in diapers with no idea why this awful hospital trip was happening to him.

I remember his diagnosis at the pediatrician's office. They checked his blood sugar and came back with a reading of 491. She said, "I'm sorry, sweetie. William is diabetic and needs to go to the emergency room immediately." I was shocked, scared, and full of dread, as the prospect of what was to come loomed. It was every bit as horrible as I imagined it, culminating with the nurses' (plural) inabilities to start an IV on my little boy's small veins. I don't like to remember, but feel that I should document it for his sake.

Since then, he has endured countless finger pricks, injections, pump change-outs, highs, lows, infections, ketone checks, and hours of fear and pain.

Diabetes is not a death sentence. It is more a life sentence. It never stops and it can never be ignored. It is constant and requires vigilance.

As a parent, I have come to realize that I cannot rest easily unless I know that his blood sugar level is stable. That is something which John and I can control. But what happens when he is in college? An adult on his own? Our fears are real and constant.

There must be something positive that comes from having a child with type 1 diabetes. There has to be.

Self-sabotage is the worst kind.

So, I went to see the doctor yesterday. I was there to see if the medication I am taking is working. While I appreciate him following up with my health, I really don't think I should have to make an appointment with the doctor for another $30 copay, so that he can tell me that he will refill my prescription because I seem ok.

I digress....

At the appointment I had my kids with me...not a great idea, but there was no other choice. After stepping on the scale, I realized that I had gained SEVEN POUNDS in the last month or so. SEVEN POUNDS! I'm not sure I gained that much between ob visit while pregnant with my kids!

Again, I digress...

After the disgust of seeing my weight gain, I had my blood pressure taken. It was in the high-normal range. HIGH NORMAL. Seriously? I gain seven pounds and my bp spikes? I am hoping it was because I had my kids with me and was all hyped up trying to make them behave and because I had gained weight. The doctor rechecked it and it was down a little.

So he asked me to what I attributed the weight gain. I said that I thought maybe it was the higher dose of medication. He asked if I had made any eating or exercise changes. I averted my eyes and said that I had made negative changes in both areas. I countered with the fact that the meds could have caused the weight gain and maybe I should decrease the dosage. He asked me if I felt better. I said that I did. He told me that I had to ask myself if it was worth feeling worse for the chance that the meds caused the weight gain. I really wanted a quick fix, but he forced me to look at the facts.

Yes, I had an incredibly stressful month or so and yes, I had stopped exercising and was eating horribly. Yes, I felt better, but I told him I was so busy that I didn't have time to exercise. He just looked at me and said, "We're all busy." We ARE all busy and there comes a time when we have to take responsibility and make choices for ourselves and follow through with them, no matter how long it takes. I sat back and told him that I needed him to say that, that I needed him not to allow me to make excuses for myself. He told me that I was the one who needed to think that and it was up to me to make healthy decisions for myself.

I don't know what it is. When I wake up in the morning I am full of all of these resolutions for the day. As I work through the day, though, I find my resolve to fulfill those goals weakens. By nighttime, I am self-righteous and feel that I deserve what I want because I have worked so hard. Self-sabotage. Why is it so difficult to stay true to a resolution? It shouldn't be that hard, but it is a constant struggle that I wish would end.

I am currently back on the exercise wagon and ran three plus miles today. I am going to have a nice little chat with myself later tonight...without ice cream or nachos.

L