Marian Vischer

Making Do Part 2 {A Series}: Rug Rehab

rug 1

Maybe I should have saved the hutch rehab for my final post in the series. It’s certainly the biggest transformation and the most involved of the rehabs.

This one, however, is certainly the most unexpected. And the simplest. And by far the most comical. When my mom realized what I’d done with their old rug, she literally doubled over in hysterics.

So here’s the scoop. I inherited this giant room-size rug from my parents.

rug 2

It’s enormous and perfect for my great room which really needs a few key touches like rugs to set apart the living area from the eating / crafting / schooling / writing area {aka my kitchen table.}

I am all about free stuff. So even though the rug needed a bit of touch-up cleaning, I took it home. I’m glad I never bothered with the touch-up because seriously, I have 3 kids and the rug is cream and in about 2 days it was beige. As I’m writing this, it’s tan with chocolate brown accents.

This rug was so gross, I wanted to throw up every time I walked past it. And honestly, it looked as if I had done just that.

{This shot does not do its nastiness true justice.}

rug 3

And because it’s huge and the cost of cleaning it would buy me a brand new rug, I was forced to push resourcefulness to new heights. Or perhaps sink to new depths, depending on how you look at it.

BEFORE:

rug 4

AFTER:

rug 5

I flipped it. That’s right, I did the unthinkable. The unsightly underbelly of the rug, the part that was never intended for eyes to gaze upon, is now a key element of my living room design.

Don’t you love the faux organic look? It reminds me of a jute rug that says, Just kidding! I’m not real fiber; I’m actually a synthetic weave coated in plastic. You watch, Pier One will be selling them next year for $400.

And while I realize that 90% of you would never try this at home, I’m writing this for the remaining 10%. The 10% of you who have bad rugs, no shame, and no budget for a new rug at this moment. It won’t work for every rug. Some are beyond hope. And some have been christened one too many times by potty-training puppies.

The moral of the story is that sometimes there’s legitimate possibility in the unlikeliest places. {And yes, I use the term “legitimate” very loosely.}

/////

So, how do you make do? {The crazier your secrets, the better.}

And by the way, The Nester did a great post last week that I can’t stop thinking about, Simple Solutions for Everyday Issues. Seriously great stuff that I can’t wait to get started on. Unfortunately she did not provide a solution for the incurable disease of L.A.D. {Laundry Avoidance Disorder.} It’s chronic.

Making Do Part 1 {A Series}: Hutch Rehab

Welcome to Making Do, my first-ever {mini} series. It’s about using what you do have instead of wishing for what you don’t…a message aimed primarily at the one writing it.

I didn’t set out to be all intentional and philosophical with these tweaks and makeovers I’ll be posting. But as I began making a few changes in our home over the last several months, I realized that they were part of a larger plot. A plot that reveals just as much about the inner workings of my heart as it does the external changes in my home. So without further adieu, here’s part one of my “story”:

……………………………………………………………..

I bought this hutch at a thrift store for $150.


{top}

{bottom}

It was an insane amount of money for me to spend on something I didn’t absolutely need. But for years I’d been searching for a giant hutch with glass doors and when I saw this one I began to swoon. So I bartered with the worker, begged my husband to let me spend the money, and called a neighbor with a pick-up truck.


I loved this hutch so much that it sat in my garage gathering spiders and dust for 3 years. Pathetic, I know. The Man urged me to sell it in the last 2 garage sales we’ve had….but I couldn’t. This hutch, something I’d initially planned to use for kitchen storage and some cherished pieces, was instead going to become my schoolroom.

We have a smallish home but I have an almost 300-square-foot bonus room upstairs. I have big dreams to use it as our homeschool room and a place for the kids to play. {Yes, this is the part where I’m wishing for what I don’t have.} It is unfinished. It will remain unfinished and therefore unusable until we have funds to do it…which means it may remain unfinished until our kids have completed their eduction. And that’s okay…

Because I have this hutch, an unexpected remedy to my unfinished bonus room.

It unobtrusively houses all of our school books and supplies. Sneaky isn’t it?





I didn’t take a good BEFORE photo, but here it is again.



And now….


She is a beauty if I do say so myself.

All along I’d planned to paint her black. I paint almost everything black. But I changed my mind on a whim, afraid that such a large black piece in my very light-colored great room would suck up all the light and hog the stage. Now she looks like a pretty extension of my white cabs. She’s still big but very blendy.




I borrowed the Nester’s idea of tacking scrapbook paper to the back. I like it.

Hobby Lobby came through with these glass knobs for $2 each.



I wanted glass doors to showcase this beautiful and incredibly sentimental tea set my parents hauled back from Germany just for me. It was a lavish gift and I can’t tell you how much I love it.



The rest of the contents are a work in progress. Eight-year-old Blondie saw me loading my tea set and she really wanted to add hers in as well. It’s a bit knick-knacky in there right now but I love that she wanted to copy me, to place her special things alongside mine. One day she may not want to mingle so much.

The process: I sanded it down a bit, wiped the dust off with a tack cloth or baby wipes, applied 2 coats of Behr paint and primer in one with a brush, lightly distressed the edges, and finished with a thin coat of Minwax Polycrylic {which I only did because the hutch will get lots of use.}

The paint job could be better but I can live with it. I painted it on a rainy weekend with my mom’s help {thanks Mom} and the finish got a little tacky.

Cupcake walked off with the first can of Polycrylic {brand new and unopened} and dropped it on the driveway at just the perfect angle to send the lid and its contents sailing. By the way, Polycrylic seals really well. A kidney-shaped portion of my driveway is now forever waterproofed and scratch-resistant. He is ever so helpful.


A big shout-out to the folks at Home Depot. I took back the empty can of Polycrylic {because it’s $16} and told them my silly story of what happened. They exchanged it. Can you believe that? So go buy yourself some paint at the Home Depot and tell them The Scooper sent you and that she’d like some free supplies to finish up her bonus room. Thanks.

Linked up with Kimba’s DIY Day {A Soft Place to Land.}
……………………………….


For part 2 of the series, click here.

Haiti

I know there are lots of people blogging and linking in an effort to spread awareness and generosity. There’s no such thing as too much so here I am doing the same.


I’m sure I speak for many when I say that I have trouble falling asleep. My babies are safe and healthy and alive in their own beds. My family is accounted for. My community goes about the everyday business of work and productivity and relative normalcy. But Haitians won’t know any of this for a long time.

I sit here as a mom who’s simply one member of the watching world struggling with survivor’s guilt. I want to fly down there and bind up wounds, bring home babies, and leave behind millions of dollars in aid. But I can’t do any of those things so I will link to those who can.


Jenny got this site up and running overnight. You can choose a raffle to enter {great prizes donated by bloggers and others} and all the proceeds go directly to Compassion and The Red Cross. Or you can donate directly to these groups.


……………………………………….

I’m a big fan of World Hope International. They are also accepting donations that go directly and immediately to Haiti relief.

For an immediate donation to The Red Cross, text HAITI to 90999 and $10 will automatically go there. It will show up on your next phone bill.

……………………………………….



Here’s a blog written by an American family living in Haiti as missionaries. Tara and my husband were childhood friends. She succintly provides a first-hand account of what it’s like there. CNN.com even did a story on them. Most importantly, she mentions how we can pray and I need that. I want to pray for specific needs and specific people. I know you do too.


………………………………………..


Lastly, there may be local Haitian groups in your area collecting supply donations. We are connected to a local Haitian church through my parents. This precious church was featured on the local news last night and every single person has lost family and friends. Can you imagine? Yet there they were yesterday praying and singing and telling the reporter, “God is in control.”

He is.

The Art of Letting Go



Once upon a time I was a swing-jumper. I vividly remember pumping my legs back and forth, back and forth as I watched the sky grow closer and felt my heart race with wild anticipation. At just the right moment, I’d let go and fly through the air with reckless abandon.

Letting go was the best part.

It’s been at least 25 years since I jumped from a swing and I’ve wondered how something that used to be completely innate became so completely foreign.

I still love a good adrenaline rush. It’s the letting go that gets me. It’s the letting go that I’ve had to re-learn.

That’s because I became quite good at holding on.

As I moved further from girlhood and closer to womanhood, holding on gradually came as naturally to me as the letting go had been when I was eight.

Holding on to the past and all the hurts and mistakes therein. Holding on to what I wanted my present to look like and how it didn’t measure up. Holding on to a future over which I had {and still have} no control. Holding on to so many levels of perfection I couldn’t even keep up with where I’d placed all of my type-A lists and mandates. Holding on to guilt and “if-only’s” and too much worry…

No longer the girl who lived life with reckless abandon and smiled at the sun, I became the wife and then the careerist and then the mom who got bogged down in the travails of the trivial. In short, I became a grown up.

But some sort of miracle gradually started to unfold about a year ago.

I began, slowly but deliberately, to reverse the havoc time had wreaked.

I started celebrating the everyday, disarray included. I grabbed hold of moments here and there and lived life as a child. It was painfully awkward and unnatural at first.

Like some sort of crash victim who had to re-learn basic mobility and motor functions, I had to learn how to let go again. And oddly enough, my kids became the therapists. They are, after all, the experts. I wonder how they got so wise.

Daily I’m learning. Some days I make tremendous strides, spurred on by the applause of those who love me most. Other days are met with relapse and regression.

It is both a conscious choice on my part and a grace bestowed by a Creator who knows me well and listens, daily, to my desperate pleas for help. Prayers tossed up like pancakes as I’m sopping up juice, wiping tears {theirs and mine}, listening to jokes that don’t really have a punch-line, realizing that the to-do list will never find completion and wondering if there will ever come a day of regular showering.

Some days the celebrating gets tricky…but it’s always possible.

Tonight I will go to bed knowing that I could have folded the laundry, finished up the dishes, mopped the floor and put more time into this post. Instead, my head will hit the pillow and marvel that I simply let it all go.

I read loads of books with the kids on our well-worn sofa in the messy living room, served as a jungle gym for my 2-year-old, tickled my boys until they could take no more, and laughed hysterically with my daughter through the season premiere of American Idol.

And while that sort of thing may come naturally for some, it was a monumental victory for me, full of imaginary fanfare amid such ordinariness.

Letting go of holding on is still hard. The achieving perfectionist who desperately wants more to show for her toil at the end of the day is never far beneath the surface. Not to mention her sister, the brooding second-guesser with the iron grip on all that past, present, future nonsense. And don’t even get me started on the guilt-monger.

But every day I say no to their familiar siren calls is one step closer to an everyday of finding childlike freedom and joy in the thrill of letting go.

……………………………………


Linked to Tuesdays Unwrapped {Chatting at the Sky}

It goes without saying that Tuesdays have served as a great source of inspiration and encouragement as I’ve practiced the {still-budding} art of letting go. {To Emily and my fellow unwrappers, thank you.}

Confessions of a Reluctant Couponer…



Happy New Year!


I could talk about resolutions and fresh starts but I haven’t resolved to do anything except finish unpacking from our holiday travels and take down my Christmas tree before February.


So I’m going to be a bit random with this post. {And I apologize in advance for the longish nature of it.}

I used to hate coupons. I thought coupon people were cuckoo…but now I’m one of them. This is my story.

In August Lily invited me to go to a women’s conference in Charlotte. Lysa Terkeurst was the speaker and at the last minute I decided to go. {The conference was amazing. I still have all my notes tucked away in my purse.}

Jen, from Balancing Beauty and Bedlam, taught one of the break-out sessions. I don’t remember the title but it was about trimming the grocery budget. As much as I didn’t want to go {even though I LOVE Jen}, I knew I should.

I didn’t want to go because 1} I shopped at Aldi and Wal-Mart and a crazy dented-can salvage store and felt I was already pretty frugal about grocery shopping. 2} Coupons seemed like a hassle and I’ve seen some of those coupon moms on T.V. and I wondered if they ever slept or had a real life. Some of them were, um, a little weird. 3} It was just one more reminder of one more thing I could do to be a better manager of my home. One more thing in a long line of other things to feel guilty about not doing.

But I went to the workshop anyway. And much to my surprise, I didn’t feel guilty. I felt inspired! I went home, told my husband I was ready to try couponing and started in earnest the next week.

Now it’s January and I have a solid 5 months of grocery savings under my belt. I have saved an obscene amount of money, my pantry is full all the time, and I always have stuff to give away to someone who needs it more than I do.

I am not a grocery guru. This is not a niche blog about frugal living or home management. I’m just an everyday mom who’s learned a lot and decided it’s not as laborious as I thought. Here’s a quick run-down of what I do. {And then I’ll link you to the experts.}

Caveat: I don’t share any of this to boast or preach or feel good about myself. If you feel guilty already, stop reading. Jesus loves you whether you use coupons or not. I share my story simply because it has been a tremendous blessing to my family and it came at just the right time for us.

1} I shop for what’s on sale, particularly buy-one-get-one free sales {BOGO.}

2} I use coupons on top of that, preferably one coupon for each item I purchase.

Example: Publix had cereal BOGO which made each box $2, a great deal. I had $1 off coupons for each box I bought, which brought it down to $1 a box, an even better deal. Hard to believe but my price-point for brand name cereal is now $1 or less a box.

3} I broadened my horizons. The store where I always shop now is the store where I never used to shop. Why? Because it was too expensive {or so I thought.} Often the pricier stores are the ones with the most generous coupon policies and the best sales. My store doubles coupons up to 50 cents every day and lets you stack a store coupon with a manufacturer’s coupon for the same item. I don’t usually hop from store to store. I shop Publix {and often CVS} weekly and only occasionally grab a deal somewhere else.

4} I took baby steps. Start with just shopping the BOGO items and not even using coupons. My neighbor started doing this and couldn’t believe what she saved without even breaking out her scissors.

5} I let go of perfection. I tend to be all or nothing which often prevents me from even trying something new to begin with. I said I’d show myself some grace with this grocery venture. Yes, I’ve made some mistakes here and there. No big deal. The overall savings have been worth it.

6} I built up a stock-pile. The first few months my grocery budget stayed the same. I simply had far more stuff to show for my spending each month. As I built a stockpile in my freezer, my pantry, and with toiletries, I began to buy less. Now I only buy what I need to beef up my stockpile or stuff that’s too cheap {or free} to pass up.

7} I established a goal. As I begin to see the savings and stockpiles grow, I figured I could get our monthly bill down to $300 a month for our family of 5. And I have. That includes groceries, diapers, cleaning supplies, paper products, cosmetics, toiletries, and even some gifts.

8} I reward myself. Seriously, I am a slave for presents. I treat myself to make-up or skin creams or candles that I’m able to score crazy deals on and I don’t have to feel guilty about it.

9} I shop the pantry. Instead of making my menu and then going to the store, I look at what I have and make meals from that.

10} My husband loves me! Thankfully he did already but I had no idea how much he would benefit from all of this. I always have brand-name food on hand that he loves. He rarely has to stop at the store anymore on his way home from work. When he’s out of deodorant, shaving cream, or soap, he just walks into the closet and gets some more. There’s something about having plenty of the stuff he needs that makes him very, very content. I love that.

Now for the experts {which are also posted in the right sidebar of my blog under “Frugal Favorites.”}

Jen at Balancing Beauty & Bedlam {who got me started on this crazy journey}
Recipes, grocery deals, and great inspiration for home management and intentional family life!

Click on a store in her header to see their weekly flyer. She lists where you can find a coupon for what’s already on sale at that store. Then you can generate a printable shopping list and off you go! I now spend about half an hour going through the list, gathering or printing my coupons, and printing my list before I go. My last trip yielded $112 in savings so the 30 minutes was time well spent.


Read her getting started tutorials! They were really helpful for me.


Similar to Southern Savers in that she lists all the best deals at various stores but she also lists great deals throughout the day at on-line sites and retail stores. Fun stuff!


Sami is my real-life friend {who I recently met at a wedding} and she has a wonderful site full of coupons, deals, and freebies galore. A great site that will save you money! {And she is the guru of doing Disney way cheap.} Go to Sami’s blog before this Friday and look for her Jan. 4th post. She’s giving away several copies of the book, The Three Big Questions for a Frantic Family.

coupons.com, red plum, and smartsource are some printable coupon sites I use often.


How do you save?

A La Mode Christmas Tour


Christmas Tour of Homes with The Nester

Merry Christmas one and all! Today is the Nester’s Christmas Tour of Homes party and I simply can’t abstain from anything with the words “Nester” and “party.” Last year I was feeling all excited about my holiday decorating. This year I am more tired than inspired but I am joining in nonetheless. Here we go…


The tree.


It is fake and was cheap and obviously not that pretty. But it’s easy. For me the important part is the tree decor. These unassuming trinkets are very sentimental as they are a combination of ornaments that our parents gave us when we got married and ornaments my own children have made over the years.



I especially love my topper. Blondie made this little cardboard angel when she was 3 or 4. I always cry when I take it out of the Christmas bin. I love its giant blue eyes and sparse yellow yarn-hair.



Coffee filter glitter-angels and thumbprint snowmen grow more precious every year.




My mantle is not Christmasy at all save for this lonely star. I didn’t get around to the garland part like I did last year.



I did, however, put up this window garland again. I love it.



But not as much as I love all of these handprint decorations the kids made with their toddler hands at pre-school in years past.





My Nester-inspired ragamuffin garland I made last year.



The entry-way is kind of fun. Our advent calendar, Christmas cards, stockings, and more kid-made decor.



We’re trying to keep Jesus at the forefront of Christmas…but truth be told there were Toys ‘r Us circulars here earlier this morning. Sigh.



I love this sweet handmade reminder that He’s still the center, chaos and all.




The kids drew these manger scenes today. Here’s Blondie’s:



As you can see Brownie’s rendition of the nativity is more “layered”: Joseph brought a present, Jesus has a Christmas tree, there are various locks and entrances into the stable, and if any of the manger participants become bored they can play putt-putt.



Blondie and Brownie were working on a lovely holiday mural…


Until a certain two-year-old chalk thief sidled up, hoarded all the chalk when they weren’t looking, and “ruined” their pictures.


He deserves a lump of coal for all his naughty-ness…but he would probably just eat it or smear it on the walls.


Clearly if there’s a theme in our house this year, it’s one of “keepin’ it real”…especially with these three always-stirring creatures.

Merry Christmas from our humble abode to yours!

’98 Ford Windstar

Before I had kids I said I would never drive a mini-van. Never. My snobbish and idealistic younger self envisioned a Volvo cross-country {navy-blue} or some sort of savvy SUV. All of which makes my current vehicle so ironic and laughable.



As we prepare for a big driving trip, I’ve been thinking a lot about the Windstar.

Purchased used 6 1/2 years ago from a trusty colleague and paid for within a few months, we figured it would give us extra room for the soon-to-be family of 4. It would simply be an intermediate vehicle we’d drive for a couple of years until we upgraded. Later I looked up the van in Consumer Reports only to discover that the ratings were less than hot. Far less. I wondered if we’d made a big mistake.

The paint on the bumper and fender became peely after a while, much to the embarrassment of my children who should be too young to express vehicular shame. But they have finally stopped asking when we will get a new van.

The short version of the story is this: a van we had only planned to keep for a short time, that should only have lasted a few years, has chugged along for more than twice that long (that’s about 65 in Ford Windstar years) with only one repair.

Strange but I have come to love this van and the loyalty it’s provided my family. I jokingly say it’s “built God tough.” There’s no reason it should still be running. But every month it does, every month we have not had to go buy a new one, I’m thankful.

Moments of slight embarrassment still sometimes show up unannounced, but I’m pretty good now at swatting them away. Moments when I hope that others don’t define me by my van. Usually I don’t care but every now and then that before-I-had-kids mentality takes over and I want to crawl under the van instead of in it.

The day will come, maybe soon, when I’ll have 4 doors instead of 3, when I’ll wave goodbye to upholstery stains and the rogue french fry lodged in the ash tray. And though I’ll be thankful for a new and improved ride and probably sit up a little straighter in the driver’s seat, I’ll always be grateful for the odd and humbling provision of my ’98 Windstar.




…………………………………….


Taking a little detour {and because these days I’m not posting terribly often and I don’t want to forget this}, I have the BEST gift suggestion for any new moms or soon-to-be moms in your life. Enter The Padalily…


Mom-invented by my BFF, Lily, this super-stylish and comfy pad simply velcroes around the handle of the cumbersome-to-carry infant car seat. This way you can carry it in the crook of your arm without bursting a blood vessel or getting a hernia. I can’t believe someone didn’t think of this sooner but for Lily’s sake, I’m glad they didn’t!

Seriously people, I had one of these with my 3rd child and I couldn’t believe the difference it made. It was so nice to have both hands free to hold the other kids’ hands or to tote the many bags I’m always hauling around.

I give one to every new mom…and you should too. {But not to any mom’s I’m going to give them to.} Right now, Lily is offering a special promotion: 20% off and free shipping with the code, OCTPAD. Now get shopping! The mommy-arms will thank you.

Pollyanna I’m Not


{Cupcake and toddling cousin helping one another out on a Thanksgiving hike.}



The best way to get your eyes off yourself is to put them on someone else. That’s the sort of Pollyanna-esque stuff my mom used to tell me regularly. As a moody and narcissistic teenager, I was hardly appreciative.


I am well-intentioned at kindness but have come to the painful conclusion that I’m short on follow-through. It does not come naturally for me to just pick up the phone and find out how you’re doing. I want to be that person but the older I get, the less I enjoy talking on the phone. Apparently, I’ve become a word-hoarder.

Come dinnertime, one of my kids is likely to ask me a question, only to be met with a blank stare. I think to myself, It’s 5:00 and I’ve simply run out of words. As Emily said in one of my favorite posts of hers, The pressures of motherhood smoked the introvert right out of me. I wanted to shout hallelujah, relieved to know I wasn’t the only former social butterfly who longed to retreat back into the chrysalis.

I’m not a complete Scrooge. Sometimes I do call, take over a meal, write a note, or send an e-mail. I care about people, just not enough to care about myself less. I am stingy with my time and energy and while I wear many hats, Mother Theresa’s is not one of them.

Is it painful to admit the ugly truth about myself? Terribly. But it’s also freeing. And if you know anything about 12-steps, admitting you have a problem is the first.

I’ve long wondered how my heart can beat as that of a humanitarian but my actions fall startlingly short. I cry when I watch the news, I want to go on every relief trip I hear about, I long for a time when I can volunteer for great causes. I rationalize that this season of my life doesn’t allow for grand acts of service…but it feels like an excuse.

Over the summer I began praying a simple prayer that God would use me in the lives of others. I know my first line of charity is my family but I longed for more. Be careful what you pray. Sometimes our prayers may be answered long after we quit praying them.

I won’t go into any specifics. Even if I did, you wouldn’t be impressed. I haven’t adopted a child or saved a village or halted abuse. There have simply been moments here and there when I’ve stepped out of my comfort zone to do something seemingly inconsequential and God has seen fit to bless it. My default setting is still to not pick up the phone or initiate, to let someone else fill a need that I don’t have the energy or confidence to fill.

But I finally get what my mom was talking about all those years ago. Most days I’m tired and overwhelmed by the day-to-day, prone to be depressive and insular, protective of the wee bit of “me” time I’m allowed. Yes, I care for children all day long yet my own selfishness continuously taints my service even to them. Thankfully, in the rare moments that these eyes shift to the needs and concerns of those beyond my walls, the personal mountain of worries seems negligible. Perspective returns. I am blessed.

So mom, you were right. I’m just a little slow to learn.

Coastal November

Eyes filled with joy tears as my sneakers skimmed across the firm, wet sand. I gazed across Atlantic sea and beheld a million diamonds dancing atop the surface, sun reflecting off the aqua surface. November coastal breezes whisked away the sweat before it could seep through my clothes, as if Nike had invented some sort of Dri-Fit beach air.


The kids played bocce with Nana and Poppy while I ran along the coastline, my mind free to dream and let go and reflect. Overwhelmed with surprise and gratitude, I ran and smiled, my tears the natural overflow of a leaky heart.


I never was one who snooped for my Christmas presents or tried to get the low-down on my birthday. For me, the best gifts are the surprise ones. Anticipation is great but serendipity is better.

So when my parents called out of the blue and invited us to the beach for four days, I started packing immediately, for fear they’d change their mind. I don’t know why two adults would choose to forgo days of golf, quiet, and kid-free relaxation but I didn’t ask questions.




Family, memories, gratitude…four days of unexpected and undeserved goodness. Giving thanks came a week early this year, a beachy appetizer for this week’s main course of turkey, dressing, pie and even more family.

Wherever you are, may your Thanksgiving be one of blessing, joy and unexpected goodness.

………………………………………………….

Once a Runner


I started running in the 7th grade when I was 12 years old. That was 24 years ago.

I went out for the track team because one of my best friends said it would be fun. Unfortunately, my BFF quit after a week and I was left on the team shy and alone, unable to run even one lap around the track without walking.

At less than 5 feet tall and somewhere in the 70 pound range, I was nearly blown off the track by the Oklahoma winds. I ran the entire season in navy blue Keds and bobby socks, finishing last place every race. My parents, loyal and impervious to shame, came to each meet, enduring the comments from nearby spectators:

Look at that poor girl. She’s so slow. And her legs are like twigs. Oh look, she’s waving at people in the stands…and smiling…while racing. How old is she?

I can’t tell you why I stayed with it. As a puny and awkward non-athlete, running was hard for me. But quitting was even harder…and so I stayed on the track.

I’m glad I did. I became part of a team. I became “a runner.” And when you’re in 7th grade, identity is everything.

My track coach encouraged me to run the next fall. Thankfully cross-country proved to be better than track. With a field of 50-150 participants, I was no longer dead last in every race.

As the seasons rolled by, I kept running. By my sophomore year I was actually decent, though hardly a standout on my 5A state championship team. I proudly wore a letter jacket with track and cross-country badges. My parents sacrificed so I could get a team state championship ring…which now fits my pinky. And at 36, I still wear my silver necklace with the runner pendant I got when I was 16.

Because once a runner, always a runner…if only in spirit.

I owe a lot to running. Running taught me discipline, exemplified by thrice-weekly 5 a.m. runs as a high-schooler. Endurance as I ran barefoot with my teammates for over an hour in the sand bars of the Arkansas River. Dedication. Determination. Focus. Perseverance. I could use a little more of those virtues now. As a mom of young kids, every day feels like a marathon.

Running gave me life-long friendships {reconnected through the magic of Facebook} and opportunities for leadership. It gave me a place to belong during those tenuous teenage and college years. It was and still is part of who I am.

Best of all, running gave me my husband of 14 years. I met him when we were 18 on our college cross-country team. That was 18 years ago and he is still handsome and fast.

Since then I’ve endured injuries, pregnancies, surgery, physical therapy, and apathy. I’ve run half-marathons and not run for years at a time.

Today I’m a runner, thanks once again to a friend’s invitation. Months ago she said to me, Let’s run. You’ve been saying you want to get back out there. Let’s do it together. After a 5-year hiatus, I felt much like I did in 7th grade: insecure, puny, and awkward.

Three to four mornings a week I’m out the door before light. I don’t do a lot of mileage and I haven’t raced in years. These days, I’m content to simply run. It feels good to lace up my sneakers {I traded in my Keds for Nikes years ago}, sweat, watch the sun come up, and chat through labored breathing with my faithful running partner. In the midst of this crazy season of my life, running is the calm, the thing I do that’s just for me.

Seemingly random events can set our course. I owe a lot to that 7th-grade invitation, inconsequential though it seemed…a gift granted 24 years ago that keeps on giving.

……………………………………………………

{Title of this post is also the title of a book by John Parker . Wanted to give credit where credit is due.}