The Momma Duck

It was a brilliant day.  The sun was shining, the air clear and cool with the perfume of budding flowers and new grass that can only be smelled in the spring.  Spring, the hopeful time of year, when life emerges and possibilities are endless.  Where color bursts with the intensity of newness; unbleached by time and weather.  The day proving to be one of uneasy fulfillment, it was an almost biological need for me to go out and be there in nature, soaking it in, an attempt to renew my hope.   

I have been in a difficult place and the pain in my chest unbearable and the pressure intense at times, as if I'm hemorrhaging from the ache.  It sounds new agey, but I feel other people's pain in my soul.  I sometimes know whose it is, sometimes not, but I feel it.  And my own hurt is always there, fringed around my heart, like the errant prick of an invisible splinter. 

We arrived at Forest Park and school buses lined the lanes, cars and people crawling everywhere.  We found a distant parking spot and parked. The kids all clamored out of the van and we decided to eat lunch before heading into the zoo.  My friend made lunch and we sat like our own little school group, eating and sharing stories and watching the kids perform tricks and athletic feats.   Their bodies full of energy, crackling and unable to sit still.  Spring was in the air and in their bodies.

With lunch completed we marched into the zoo and the place was a hive of activity.  There were children on field trips and young mothers and families, all there with their charges scurrying from habitat to habitat.  Excitement permeated the air as voices chattered and chirped and the animals perfomed their own coping rituals, or slept, or tried to live their lives as they have, in captivity, with some sense of satisfaction.  I felt removed from my body, surveying it all, taking it in, wondering what does this life mean?  Is this what God really has for man to do?  Is this the meaning of life?  Distracting ourselves by observing animals that are held in benevolent little prisons for our enjoyment? 

I was numb, yet in pain, and talking to God, questioning His providence, and His plan.  Now and again, one of the children I was with would come and hold my hand, or pull me to look at an animal, or tell me they would like to live with me.  Little dollops of love, like a balm to soothe the gaping hole in my heart.  All day, I tried to find promise, or a sense of relief or feel God’s loving presence, but it was hard and He was hiding from me.  So I tried to approach Him in gratitude and offer praise or thanks for small things. 

The time came to leave and after piling in the van we drove down a winding lane.  It was wooded and trees arched over on both sides of the road.  They were filled with tender leaf buds creating a verdant tunnel of renewal.  Now and again the new magenta flowers from the red bud trees floated in and amongst the other trees adding beautiful splashes of color.  I was thanking God for my sight and the ability to see it and then everyone erupted with exclamation as the van rolled to a halt. 

Crossing the street ahead of us, was a momma duck and her six little ducklings.  Head held high, she was prancing across the street, squawking and craning her neck around to keep account of her little babies.  They were bouncing along, jostling and peeping, all on their own little field trip.  We were all cooing and ahhhing and ohhing over them.  They were so cute, so innocent, so alive.  They were a metaphor of spring and new life and love and motherhood.  It was like a beautiful little present of love that God handed me and I was thanking Him and getting my camera ready to take a picture.

They had just crossed the road and hopped up on the sidewalk heading into the woods, when as if in a movie and in slow motion, the mother duck spread her wings and took to flight, heading deep into the trees.  Meanwhile confused, the babies began to run in circles and cry as a red tailed hawk swooped down and grabbed one.  He perched in a tree right above them looking to grab more.  I jumped out of the van and ran at him and tried to make him drop it, but he looked at me and flew away, the baby dangling from his massive talon.  The other ducklings were totally at a loss, panicking and running into each other, running in circles, falling off the curb into a drainage pit, crying and trying to understand what happened.  The mother was nowhere to be found.  Obviously, she flew off in an attempt to divert the hawk’s attention from her babies.

I could barely get back in the van.  I thought I was going to die.  I could hear the momma duck's thoughts in my own head; those that would swirl in her head when she finally got back to her babies and realized one was gone.  She would be saying, wait, where’s, John?  I did everything I was supposed to.  I kept them with me and taught them how survey their surroundings, and how to make their way across the street, and how to find food, and how to be a family and how to live in the world.  But there was nothing she could have done about the hawk.  Nothing.  What could she have done?  She had no ability to fight it with its massive talons and swift flight.  She had no way to shelter all six from the hunter.  She did the best she could by trying to direct his attention on her, once she knew he was there.  She had no way to know he had been stalking her for some time.  But it was too late.  It was God’s will, God’s timing, God’s plan. 

I crawled into the van needing to scream, but unable to cry or release the excruciating flood of emotions, because there were six human children present and chattering away about how nature works.   I sat there stricken, understanding and feeling the momma duck’s torment because I am the momma duck.

I do not believe in accidents or coincidence.  So why would God set my day in motion, all the little steps and stops and detours that had to occur, some even  days in advance, leading me to be in that place and time to see the most horrible thing I could see?  What does God want me to know?  In the moment of praise I was offering Him, why did God give me that? 

And so it goes with grief and God.  Grief is like a hawk, its talons razor sharp and ready to shred. Stalking me and seizing me when I least expect it.  Clawing me and carrying me off.   For the hawk is not evil, it is doing as it is created.  And grief is not evil, it is doing as it was created. 
At some point, the duckling’s synapses no longer fire and the scorching agony no longer registers.  And the momma duck soon forgets, for it is her instinct to move on.  The animals have a protection of amnesia that God gracefully gives them, because it is the circle of life.  

Yet, it seems I have no reprieve from the pain as the poor duckling does.  God allows the memories of my John to roll on endless loop, always teaching and purifying and rebuking.  Only He knows why His natural world is so wild, untamed, and unforgiving.  Only He knows how long grief will stalk and attack.  Only He knows why He uses pain to purify.  And only I know that that will have to be enough of an answer for me.

I write this, not as a bid for sympathy or attention.  I write this because I know that God allowed that whole episode to unfold before me for a reason.  Just as He has placed many people who are suffering in my life right now.  I can not give grace and mercy if I first do not experience it myself.  I can not offer comfort and hope, if I first do not experience it myslef.  His ways are not my ways and I do not see His whole purpose and plan.  

We are all part of a tapestry and He is the weaver.  He creates us each with unique sensibilities to interact and thread through our lives and those we meet along the way.  And while nature seems cruel and life is pain filled, there is the promise of something better.  And spring is the glimpse of that promise.  Spring comes after winter, a renewal and new life after death.  

So God this I know, I don't always like your ways and I don't want to be purified anymore, I do believe you are good and I will experience that final Spring one day.

Poem: The Desert Heart

Dry and dusty, parched and pale

The heart shrinks from a life, selfish and stale.

For the quickest way to a long slow death

Is living without hope and love's sweet breath

No horizons expanded if Self be not bound

Just despair and drudgery is all to be found.

No clear purpose seen, from the Creator in Chief

Just monotonous minutes taken by the Thief.

How long does one wander in the desert of days?

Where loneliness paints its forlorn glaze.

When the colorless bland fills the eyes

There the monochrome mind withers and dies.

I try looking for things to quench the thirst

I long for my heart to beat and burst!

Like in memories from days long ago past

Where warmth from love’s promise was wildly cast.

I try living in prayer and giving praise

In hopes that color will drown the grays.

To look out of myself and care for another

Maybe it’s the giving of love that will my despair smother.

For with each selfless thought I think

Drips living water for my soul to drink.

Saturating this listless life of desolation

Saving my heart from utter starvation.

For we are not meant to live without dreams

Nor be brittle and dull, but be radiant beams!

The desert heart is no place to dwell

Give endless love and ride the swell!

                                                        ~drbrandt 2/18

Poem: The Path

The path it winds deep in the wood

The trees are full and lush

I know not if take I should

For falls an eery hush.

A hint of mystery seeps among the trees

Like a fog rising off the water

Should I go on, knowing not where it leads

Lord, help my steps not falter.

The sky obscured, the light is dim

The road lay out before me

In faith I walk, rely on Him

For though I cannot see clearly.

This is the path, I have been set upon

But the way does not seem clear

Father, I pray, please lead me on,

His voice I wait to hear.

“Trust me” arises in each tenuous stride

Until my soul grows brave and bold

Onward I trek in firm confide

Knowing in Who I am to hold.

And when I reach my journey’s end

Having defeated the great unknown

For once rounded past the final bend

I will arrive safely, to my Home.

And there my joy will abound

Through all the struggles I stood

My loved ones lost now to me found

And God proves He is Good!
                                     ~drbrandt

Poem: The Web

Through the woods I meandered one eve
Head bowed and threading many a thought.
Of you, of John, of life; a heavy tangled weave
The demons and desires, the hard battles fought.
So many things in life to lose, to grieve
I stepped off the path searching for what I sought.
At my wits end, doubting all I believe
I happened upon a lesson I’ve ‘fore been taught..
Thoughts trap and trip, often dare to deceive
But when His Light shines, and so upon them caught
No longer darkness does the mind conceive
Not mottled and uninspired, untethered and for naught
But an intricate, purposed, and inspired reprieve
For from what seemed tangled and tattered, He has wrought
Renewed and transformed, new heights they would achieve
~drbrandt

Poem: Peace

I could not see the forest for the trees
But I heard the wind rustle amongst the leaves
I stilled myself and lent an ear
For the words my soul needed to hear
"My Peace I give you, my dearest one"
And He smiled on me with the dappled sun
~drbrandt

John's Eulogy

 

Thank you for coming today to share in our remembrance of John. I am so amazed, grateful, humbled, and literally astounded at the outpouring of love and support for this boy of few words. I think John probably averaged about 50 spoken words a day. And he had a way of speaking sideways through his teeth. I always teased him and asked if he was training to be a ventriloquist…and he would flash that million dollar grin and say, “maybe.” But it appears John did not need words to convey what so many people needed to hear. His smile was a universal language and as powerful as any lengthy and well written oration. I think the reason his smile reached so many, is because it was genuine and it made everyone feel special. He didn’t have to know you, he just looked at you and he smiled, and for that moment you mattered and were acknowledged by someone. That is a rare feeling in this technological, fast-paced culture we live in today. That is why I think so many people loved John and had a special place for him. Because he took the time to connect his humanity with theirs through a smile. John was not perfect, he was a good boy, he was a kind and gentle spirit, he was creative and clever, he was a prankster, and he was proof that there is a Creator in Heaven who orders our days and has a purpose for each of us.

I believe God is good, I believe God is love, I believe God is a God of details. I believe there is a reason for everything, that nothing is a coincidence or random. I believe that our whole life’s purpose is none other than to bring glory to God while living our everyday lives. I believe this now more than ever as I think about my son and our life together…..our beginning, middle, and end. I believe we live in a fallen world and there is pain and suffering. I believe Ecclesiastes which says, “there is a season for everything. A time to be born and a time to die, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance.” I believe, Psalm 37:4 which says, “Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart.” And finally, I believe Job 13:15 which says, “Though He slay me, yet I will trust in Him.” I don’t’ always have to understand or even like how my Creator orders, and arranges His purposes and plans in my life, but I do marvel at how clear the picture of those purposes present themselves in hindsight, so much of the time. I don’t know why pain is associated with God’s magnificent power to orchestrate and work all things together for the good to those that love him, just as Romans 8:28 tells us…..But I believe He does, for I have no other choice. I have lived it first hand and I have seen the Hand of God move in so many ways in our life with John. Every stray detail, that on its own, seems meaningless or trivial, when carefully examined, becomes a thread in a magnificent tapestry.

I have been doing a lot of reminiscing and memories are flooding my mind. I

catch my breath only to find myself winded by another barrage of memories….and so it goes with grief. I am grieving. My little boy is gone. This is the same boy who I began searching for in October of 1998. Through a miraculous series of events, we were able to bring our son home from Guatemala in 2004. God has been so faithful to me throughout my entire life, during the darkest valleys and the brightest mountain tops, but it is the details of our adoption story that have been one of the strongest anchors of my faith in Him, and that faith has led to a trust that all of His plans have purpose and are good….maybe not in my limited view, but certainly in His omnipotent vision. Yes our life with John has been evidence that God is good, God is love, God gives us the desire of our hearts, and God slays us….but we must trust. His plans are higher, His plans are greater, His plans are eternal.             

We’ve had some wonderful times with John, we’ve had some trying times with John, we loved John, and now he is gone. I refuse to accept that this is anything other than ordained, because I have seen God work. I have witnessed His miraculous ordering of details and timing, so that beauty rises from pain and ashes. I witnessed a plan that was to usher my boy’s life from this one into his eternal life. He was bike riding and was 95 miles into a 100 mile tour. He was almost home. But there were seemingly random events that directed his course. Some of those we know: he stopped for lunch, he stopped for a water break, he texted a friend, it started to rain….and many more that we will never know. But each of those things rippled time and so it turns out that if John had only stopped one more time, or did not stop one of those times, if the driver had dropped his keys while getting into the car, or if he would have crested the hill 30 seconds later, or any number of things, we might not be in this place today.

Yet we are in this place today and it is in this situation that I hear the promises of Jesus in John 14:1-4, “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God, and trust also in me. In my Father’s house there are many rooms. If this were not so, I would not have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you. When everything is ready, I will come and get you, so that you will always be with me where I am. I remember Philippians 1:6 which says, “being confident of this, that He who began a good work in you will carry on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” And I have peace here today, because I know in my heart that John understood and believed Jesus’ promises as well. It was only two years ago that I asked him to write his statement of faith and his life verse and he chose Revelation 22:12, in which Jesus says, “Look, I am coming soon! My reward is with me, and I will give to each person according to what they have done."

 

We are here today to celebrate the gift of God’s promises and plans. In Psalm 139:13 we read, “For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb.” So when He knit John in his mother’s womb, He ordained 18 years and He allowed John to be our son for almost 13. Within those years we lived and loved, and he grew to know his Savior Jesus. And because of God's love, John, who was once a small boy with no home or family, is now a young man with a family....of thousands! Some are known, some are unknown to him, and he completed his destined time, surrounded by the love of those thousands, now and also for eternity. While this situation is beyond terrible, the thought that John completing his ordained time in a life without the love of a family or a Savior is even more heart-wrenching. Either way, there is a culmination of days. In light of this perspective, I see not a horrible and unfair, unplanned, chaotic accident, but I see a carefully woven plan for a boy and a family who both needed each other to love. I believe God is sovereign, I believe God is love, I believe God is good all the time. I see beauty from pain and ashes.

I have gratitude for all the things God allowed us to witness before he took our
boy home. I saw how He orchestrated John’s medical team into an amazing machine of care and compassion. I saw how God mobilized thousands of people to pray for John. I saw how He had lined up situations over the past 9 months, so that everything is now in place regarding the payment of his treatment. I remember how many times I nagged John to workout, run his miles, build his strength, so that he could compete in his triathlons in top condition, only to realize that his strong heart I saw beating out of his chest, in that hospital bed, was carrying him through his most difficult race to his finish line….for it seems after all, that Jesus was coming soon for John, just as his life verse attests.

I’m grateful that while we never got to hold John as a baby, and we will never see him marry or have a family of his own, God did give us a glimpse of the fine man he was becoming. In the last year, he got a job, took a college class while finishing his junior year in high school, got his driver’s license, and had his first date. We even got a glimpse of the kind of father he might have been, as he helped me while I cared for a newborn for a few months last fall.

He was a natural with children and animals. Some of his best friends are little children who felt the love and compassion he gave them, just by taking the time to acknowledge they existed. To listen to their stories or play a game of tag or go fishing, whatever they wanted. As far as animals, I was convinced John was enchanted…another Dr Doolittle. I actually watched a grasshopper molt in his 8 year old little hand. I will miss hearing him say, “Mom, stop the car there is a turtle.” I will miss the gleam in his eye when bringing another turtle home to care for. I will miss our taco runs to Jack in the Box, where his goal was to shock me with his gluttony. Last count was 15 tacos in one sitting. John was a gentle and kind spirited fellow and everyone sensed that about him. He was adept at performing small acts of kindness. He was not perfect, but he was good. He was not gregarious or a people pleaser, but he was genuine and he was love.

Perhaps the lesson we can learn from this boy’s short life is this: God has a plan and His plan involves loving people where they are. Not judging, not fixing, not changing…that is His job. Our job is to see the people that cross our paths for who they are, God’s special children. Children He loved enough to make a way for them to be reconciled through the death and resurrection of His Son Jesus Christ. If He values people that much, then shouldn’t we be able to offer a smile and share a moment. Because it’s is through the simple act of a heartfelt smile that you have shown someone that they are worthy of attention, they matter, and they have importance…and just maybe your smile could be a flicker of the love of Christ. A flicker that could produce a flame to warm a lonely heart; or begin the healing of a deep seated pain; or just enough to introduce Christ to a searching soul.

Today I know my son is in the presence of the Almighty Creator of the Universe, when less than a week ago, his broken body and swollen brain lay in a hospital bed with a bleak and dismal future. God’s ways are not my ways, but I believe God is good all the time. And because of the saving grace of Jesus Christ I have peace, hope, and joy for when it’s my turn to go Home, John will be waiting for me, with his warm and enchanting smile and open arms, along with my Savior and Heavenly Father. Yes God’s plan always brings beauty from pain and ashes.

 

With Hope in Mind

Life is hard. Life can stink. Life is not fair. But there is a way to get through with some semblance of peace and happiness. How is that? It's all in your mindset. Life is not controllable. Circumstances happen that completely and utterly take you off course, like the winds of a raging hurricane. You are tossed and battered, bruised and burdened, confused and conflicted. But in the midst of chaos there is one thing that can be controlled. Your mind. What you think will be what you do. Will you quit or will you hope?

There are four types of mindsets that I have observed in people. The Optimist, the Pessimist, the Regretter, and the Planner. These are ways that people try to control their situations. While we all fall into these categories, the extent to which one identifies with a category affects their resilience and ability to hope.

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An Optimist tends to see the good in everything. They look for bright side, they don't like to dwell on negative things whether it be news, movies, situations, and/or people. They prefer to see the world through rose colored glasses. They prefer to think of only things that are pleasing. In fact, if you are a Christian or you have Christian friends, they would say that we should take Paul's advice in Philippians 4:8, which says, “Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable--if anything is excellent or praiseworthy--think about such things.” And that is good advice, who wouldn't want to think about great things all the time?

While I think being an optimist is an admirable way to live, I think we can agree it isn't always easy or practical to our highly distractable minds. The negative elements are all around. And if truth be told, more often than not, a true optimist will try to insulate themselves from the negative by building barriers, so that they can avoid the messiness that full engagement often entails. But, no matter how much one sinks their head in the sand, only thinking of good, avoiding the bad, the bad still happens to them and many times they are not prepared to deal with it. They feel blind-sided and let down or worse of all, miss out on meaningful relationships with people that may not fit their optimistic view or notion of worthiness. Being and optimist does not give immunity to trouble.

Then there is the Pessimist. The Eeyore of the crowd. The one who never gets their hopes up or sees

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the good, the one that expects disappointment, not fully grasping that they are becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy. If you look for the negative you will surely find it. It's easy to be disappointed because we live in an imperfect and sinful world. It's easy to have your feelings hurt because people make off-handed remarks. It is easy to be a victim, and it is easy to give up. Again, if truth be told, more often than not, a true pessimist will try to insulate themselves by building barriers, as well, never fully engaging in the people or experiences around them. The pessimist will never find their way to happiness, because they haven't prepared their mind for anything else but failure and their default is to quit.

But there is a third way to be. A hybrid of both and that is the way I prefer live. It has taken me many years and many trials to get to this point. I would call myself a hopeful realist...one who appears to an optimist as a pessimist, to a pessimist as an optimist. WHAT? That sounds like crazy talk. Let me explain. I tend to look at things with the view that it most probably won't work out as I had planned, there may be some form of failure, and I may get disappointed. But when those things happen, that aren't how I had imagined, my mind is prepared and I can react from there. I am not shocked or upset because I figured it may occur and so I go on. I may have to go in a new direction for a bit or try a different tactic, but I don't give up. One of my favorite proverbs...Proverbs 16:9 says, "A man's heart plans his way, but the Lord directs his steps." When I change my mind set to believe that, I find that most times something better than what I thought could happen or better than I could've planned happens. It is the renewing of my mind, as Paul says in Romans 12:2, "Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is--his good, pleasing and perfect will." The renewing of the mind becomes the optimism that allows me to assess and move on, to not quit, to get through the terrible times.

It is never easy and it can be painful, but the optimism I'm speaking of is really none other than Hope. And hope is a wonderful thing! It is all the cliches'... the sun peaking through the clouds...the light at the end of the tunnel. You can never be confined to sadness, failure, loneliness, if you have Hope and Hope is what sets us free in the end. 

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A person can spend most of the time looking in the rearview mirror of their life...the Regretter. Being filled with regret for all the coulda, woulda, shoulda's. Like the saying goes, "Hindsight is 20/20". It's easy to beat yourself up for the decisions you made with the information you had at the time, but in hindsight may have not been the best. However, all that is really accomplished is that you have missed the here and now, and it is a vicious cycle, because now they have more regret for the things they continue to miss.

A person can spend most of their time looking to the future making their plans...the Planner. People try to account for all the things they think may happen and how to attain their goal down the road. It is their way to try and control the chaos and while planning is good, plans tend to become highly inflexible. The plan becomes the master of the planner instead of a means to an end. All the while, no one knows what will happen in even the next hour, so then it would seem that planning is futile. And while they are making all these plans and trying to make things happen, they miss the here and now and it too becomes a vicious cycle, because they are making concrete plans on the sinking sand of the unknown.

But there is another mindset and that is the one filled with hope. That person can have a plan, live in the moment. Roll with the day and let its surprises bloom like the bright golden petals of the

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sunflower. Sometimes, things come up that seem bad at first, but actually allow you more meaningful experiences than anything you could have ever planned yourself. None of us are guaranteed the next hour, the next day, the next year. But we spend so much time looking at our calendars, confined to our infinite little plans that we miss relationships and experiences that are here and now. What if we learned to trust our gut? What if we learned to listen to the small voice inside that offers guidance, but is rarely heard above all the external noise? Jesus, in Matthew 6:25, 27, 33-34 and asks powerful questions while offering great advice on this when He says, “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes?....Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?....But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.

Now with all my talk of living in the here and now, am I saying to be irresponsible and do what you want? No, plans are good, regrets have merit, but it's how much flexibility that you allow with those things that will give you the freedom, the hope, and the ability to not fear failure, to enjoy the good surprises that occur in the day to day. I guess all I'm trying to say is renew your mind, change your mindset, be flexible and try living in the moment, that is what we are guaranteed, so live each moment like it's your last. Notice what and who is around you and fully appreciate them. Don't let the fear of failure, past or present, hold you back. Live with hope, for hope covers the past and paves the future, and hope begins now. 

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Tri Hard Win Big

I am a triathlete.  I'm a weekend warrior with aspirations.  I love the sport of triathlon because it is a metaphor for life.  I believe if you try hard at something, then you win big...in so many ways other than just a top finish in a contest.  The definition of Triathlon is an athletic contest in which an athlete competes in three different events: swimming, cycling, and running.  From tri  meaning three and the Greek Athlon meaning contest.  Some say it's grueling, crazy, cultish, liberating, tough, invigorating, but I think most, if not all would agree, that once attempted it changes you and your outlook on life and the way you approach your life's course.

You might say I was a triathlete before triathlons were mainstream.  Well, as a kid in the 70's, my three favorite things to do were swim, bike, and run.  We lived in the city and we had a little pool in our postage stamp sized backyard.  My brother and I would get up in the mornings and swim "laps".  I use that term, liberally because in essence we swam circles around the perimeter of the little galvanized tank we called a pool.  We would swim until a whirlpool formed, or we were so dizzy we were on the verge of puking, and then let the current carry us around.  Once the waters stilled we would start the cycle over in the opposite direction.  At some point my mother realized that we could probably benefit from a larger pool and learning to swim in a straight line, so she enrolled us in swim lessons at the YWCA.  She would take us everyday, whether it was a lesson day or not, just so that we could get our swim fix.  It was here I learned that the only person I really need to compete against was myself and the competition was endless.

Another love back then was running.  I would run everywhere.  To the store, to my friend's house, around the block; walking was just too slow for me. I ran barefoot, in sandals, in my cheap knock-off brand of tennis shoes, it did not matter, I just ran.  We did not have a lot of money, so there were no organized sports for me.  Since running was free and could be done anywhere, it became something I focused on.  I created my own competitions, sometimes enlisting my brother and the other boys in the neighborhood and sometimes just with myself.  I use to run a mile everyday, just to see how much faster I could run it.  Once again, it was me against myself.

And then there was cycling. I lived on my bike....my (what seemed like 300 pound) Huffy counterfeit from Western Auto.  It didn't matter that it was heavy, it had 10 speeds and it was my freedom, my wheels, my way off of the little city block on which I resided.  New horizons were awaiting.  There were miles to ride and hours to do it in.  So much to see and so many places to go. Back then you could leave your house in the morning and go anywhere you wanted without fear...fear of being run over by a texting driver, or fear of being kidnapped...and the only requirements were to check in once in a while and be home by the time the street lights came on.  Summer days provided an abundance of hours to build endurance and proficiency in the saddle.

I guess it was back there in my youth the foundation was set.  I had been training and preparing myself for a sport I really didn't know existed...until one Saturday afternoon in 1980.  I remember tuning into my favorite show, ABC's Wide World of Sports.  There was a new sporting event being televised and it was called The Ironman. I remember being glued to the tv set watching the athletes soldier through the elements and torturous and seemingly unending course.  These athletes were swimming, biking, running, all in the same event!  My little teenaged heart swelled and I thought, "someday I'm going to do that!"

Fast forward to 1990, I'm  25 years old, in the routine of my career life and the only swimming, biking, and running I was doing was sporadic and leisurely at best.  One day my soon to be sister-in-law told me about a local YMCA indoor sprint distance triathlon that was coming up.  Suddenly the voice of the young girl that loved swimming, biking, and running, rose up from within and compelled me to sign up for the race.  I decided I could try it with less than a month of training, how hard could it be?  Let me tell you, while I was not in top aerobic shape, I realized the real obstacle was not necessarily better training...I could push myself physically; no the real obstacle was mental.  I had not foreseen the tediousness and boredom of swimming laps in a pool for 500 yards (seemed like an eternity to me by that age and lack of fitness), riding a stationary bike for 12 miles, and running circles, 55 laps to be exact, on an elevated running track around the Y's gymnasium, until I reached my 3.1 miles.  At least all those circles I swam as a kid helped me from becoming a dizzy mess on that running track.  But after I completed that last lap and crossed the finish line my life was changed.  I learned so much about myself that day and what it means to push yourself mentally and physically.  And I realized that if I could hone that skill, it would be useful in all aspects of life, not just in sporting events, but the real hard events...those that life signs you up for without any notice or any chance to train.  And thus my love affair with triathlon was sealed.

Now let's fast forward again to 2016, I'm 51.  I have 4 children who have grown up on me.  Two are in college and two are finishing up high school.  I am coming to grips with the looming empty nest and the obsolescence of my mothering skill set (see What to Expect When You Are Letting Go if you want to read more on that subject).  I've been facing one of the most arduous and emotionally difficult hills on my course.  Some would call it a mid-life crisis, but I prefer to think of it as finding my new purpose and passion.  I've been searching, studying, seeking my new course and lo and behold, what has presented itself to me, once again, as a way conquer the obstacles that life has to offer?  Triathlon!  

About a month ago, my husband sent me an email with just a link, no explanation or anything.  The link took me to one of the world's finest female athletes, 4x Ironman Champion Leanda Cave's new Team LC's website (see Team LC).  She was seeking two elite women triathletes, and 14 amateur and age group women triathletes to be ambassadors for her foundation.  They would encompass Team LC and compete in races and build a community of active women.  All with the goal of encouraging and empowering women through the sport of triathlon.  



World Champion Leanda Cave

When I read over website and the application, my heart began to beat fast and I was so thrilled at this prospect. To be a part of an organization that seeks to encourage women and empower them to be active and strong was right up my alley.   After all encouraging others is a priority to me. Such a small effort can make all the difference in another's life.  There are so many circumstances that can tear down a person in any given day, and to be able to uplift with a kind word, gesture, or to come alongside and help carry the burden is one of the greatest joys in life...not only does it empower the givee, but also the giver.  And so too it goes with physical fitness.  Fitness is a huge part of my life. I believe by participating in athletics, you learn a lot about yourself and it's a catalyst for growth.  You learn to dig deep, to accept disappointment and rise above, to be strong in body, mind, and spirit.  Exercise and competing helps clear the cobwebs from a tired mind, gets the blood flowing to better health and vitality, and gets those creative juices flowing.  You see your body for the beautiful gift of power and promise that it is.  It does amazing feats and carries you to endless heights and it's something that needs to be cherished and cared for.  Those are the concepts that I want women to realize about themselves...to see themselves as strong, capable, and beautiful. To see each other as teammates and comrades in this tiresome and difficult sport of life. To forget about what the culture promotes amongst women...insecurity, jealousy, comparison and a completely unrealistic and unhealthy definition of beauty.....photo-shopped lies. 

But then the voice of self-doubt began to chatter in my mind and I had a million and one reasons why I was not good enough to ever be considered, much less selected.  After all, I'm an age grouper who has competed in a few sprint triathlons with lofty dreams of a 70.3 Iron Man in my future.  I'm a full time mother, who has to exercise around everyone else's schedule.  I have old knees that hurt and a quirky spine condition.  What do I have to offer?  The litany went on for quite a while, but then that young girl's voice began to whisper and it became louder and louder until I heard it...that same voice that overcame the taunts of the boys, the voice that said you can run as fast as those boys, you can throw the ball as good or better than they can, you can run that last mile, can lift that heavy weight, you can do anything you set your mind too, even fill out an application to become an ambassador for women everywhere.  Suddenly, every circle lap I had swum in my backyard pool, every mile I had ever run, every hill I had ever climbed on my 300 pound Huffy knock-off, every middle of the pack finish in the sprint races I had completed had purpose and meaning and they were all leading me to this jumping off place.  So I completed the application and pressed SEND, with a prayer, crossed fingers, and a resolve that even if I would likely never be selected, out of the hundreds of other applications, I tried! I did it! I overcame! 

Then one day, weeks later, I was having one of those days where you think it really can't get any worse, but it does.  One of those days where you go off alone to lick your wounds, because if you don't you will snap and unleash your fury on every innocent bystander in your path.  It was one of those days and I had walked circles around my favorite park until the sun set....going in circles again.  I'm detecting a pattern here.  I got in my car and checked my phone, trying to prolong the inevitable of returning home to try and carry on with a stiff upper lip.  I checked Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, text messages, voicemails, the light was quickly fading and I was in danger of breaking the sunrise/sunset park law.  Wouldn't that be a fine capper, to get a ticket from the park ranger as he was making his last rounds to run off errant park goers?!  So with reckless defiance, I decided to check my email before starting the car.  And right there on the top of the list in my inbox was an email from a man named Lou.  Truth be told I almost deleted it because I did not recognize the name.  But thankfully, I opened it and read these amazing words, "Dear Deanna, Congratulations! You have being selected as one of our fourteen Team LC Ambassadors!

I read it and re-read it four times and then I began to cry.  The day's oppression released.  It was like I had received an affirmation...that all that I believe about being a strong woman overcoming the negative voices and obstacles that life throws is true; that giving up is not the best option.  That engaging in sport is vital and empowering for women, because participating in athletics (no matter the level) unites us and creates a common bond of camaraderie in strength and knowing.  And finally, it buoyed that bubble of hope that starts deep within that says, even though I'm not the best of the best and am a work in progress, I have something to contribute and there are others out there that believe that about me. Truth is, we all are not gifted to be elite athletes, but we all are gifted to be the best self.  And that best self can offer encouragement and inspiration to another who is trying to become their best self.

I noted earlier that triathlon is a metaphor for life.  There are different aspects that must be faced and must be overcome while finishing the course laid out for you.  Life just as triathlon has rough waters that will crash over you...like the grief experienced when losing a loved one...and you can let it wash you away or you can swim through it. In your race, your swim may not be pretty, you may be flailing and get knocked by others who are battling through their own course, but if you focus on the things you can control, like your breathing, or your form, the fear subsides and sooner rather than later you are out of the water.  Training teaches that perseverance.

Once you clear the water you may find a stretch of flat highway where you can cruise along.  Life is good, all your preparation has paid off, only then to round the bend and come upon the hills of life....like those you encounter in raising children or an battling an illness....the daunting hills, the glorious summits, and the terrifying descents, all discouraging, invigorating, and harrowing, in their own right.  But you chip away, dig deep, grind on up, get out of the saddle, change gears till you reach the summit.  There you enjoy the view from the top and experience satisfaction of overcoming, however fleeting. 

 Because you will soon find yourself on the downhill slope where you hang on and pedal furiously. The euphoria you felt a bit ago has now turned to a white-knuckled grip, as you sail downhill on treacherously thin tire treads.  Ironically, it's embracing and pedaling through the fear  that is the very thing that powers you up the next uphill struggle.  Each part of the hill has benefit.

Finally, when you think you may not be able to pedal another mile, you find yourself on the run.  Legs like rubbery blocks, rebelling with each punishing pounce.  You know the end is just close enough to taunt you.  This is where your real mettle is put to the test.   How easy would it be to just quit, give up...like when you hit a rough patch in your marriage or you have a difficult job situation.....your mind says things like what is this all for?  What will be proven by this?  I'm not really happy right now.  This is not fun!  There's no harm, no foul, if you just walk off the course, right? 

But this is where you decide who will be the victor, your heart or your mind.  The heart wants to soar above the heights, to feel the joy of a job well done, to cross the finish line and fight the good fight.  The mind is bored and restless and filled with all the detritus of self doubt and insecurity.  It allows all those negative voices to crowd in and tell you all the reasons why it's best to give up.  And just when it seems that those voices may elevate to a place higher than the cries of the heart, the finish line appears.  The crowd is cheering, the end is in sight, the body is on autopilot, and the heartbeat swells into a thunderous roar, drowning the voices of the mind.  And as you cross the finish line it occurs to you...."I tried hard and I won big!"  Doesn't matter what place you came in, doesn't matter how long it took, because as your foot crosses that line you realize you won:  heart over mind, finish over quitting, pride over pain, substance over circumstance. 

In life, I have found there is a lot of swimming and running in circles, seemingly endless efforts, but nothing could be further from the truth.  They actually come full circle, for that is where you develop patience, performance, and  purpose.  That is where you sharpened the skills needed to meet and overcome the obstacles you will face. The word Triathlon means three contests.  The word Try means to put forth effort.  The word Win means to be victorious in a contest. In my way of thinking, not giving up, but trying any contest, be it an athletic competition or facing life's obstacles head on is a win, a success, and an achievement to be proud of. It's never too late to get your body moving.  Start small and aim high.  Even the greats had to crawl before they could walk. So why not get out there and Tri Hard...Win Big!