interlocking circles

It has been a smorgasbord of feelings this month as our family has been in recovery, and then, at almost whiplash speed, in celebration mode.

Thursday our son came home from Mexico, where he had served a mission for two years for our church.  He is handsome and obedient and humble, and all-around a joy.  We are complete again, at least for awhile, and it feels dang good to have us all in one place.

Our family, my in-laws, and the couple that baptized me 29 years ago (to the right)

Gideon, Adam, and me

In front of our home

Benny Knudsen, Gideon, Adam, me, and Willa Knudsen

Tomorrow is my birthday and I find myself thinking about my own personal progress.

What are some spiritual goals I have accomplished, and what do I still want to get done?  
What are some physical goals I have met, and what do I still need to do?
And so on, and so on...

I was watching a show last night where a couple had to go into the witness protection.  The husband was fine with it, but the wife about lost her mind at the prospect.  Starting over, with no opportunity to maintain past relationships.  Can you imagine?  My friends spent a lot time during this past month building an incredibly strong safety net for me to fall into.  Eyes closed and swollen with crying.  Arms folded in prayer.  Throat seized up with stress.  Now I am coming out of the net, but I certainly would not want to leave these people, whether in my physical neighborhood or my virtual one.  Ever.

Now we look forward with faith, and we are ready to move ahead.  Life is a collection of little circles.  Concentric and interlocking.

I talk to myself while I sweat


I sure do. When I am sweating up a storm at Zumba I have a little conversation in my head which goes a little something like this:

You can do this. Push. Push. You will NOT be another 50-yr old in a mumu!

And as much as that helps me push through a work out, it also helps me push through life. We need to get uncomfortable and be willing to go to our own limits if we want to see how much we are capable of.


That might be related to our physical strength. That might be related to our emotional strength. Our spiritual strength.


As much as I hear my own voice when I exercise, the opposite is also true. I sometimes exercise in my own mind when I need that strength. I visualize myself with free weights or climbing the bleachers or sweating it out to some Pitbull.


It gives me two ways to get through hard things.

I choose my own voice, or I choose my own movement. Either way, I am my very own middle-aged cheerleader. I know what I know. I know my body. I know my spirit. And I know that when the two are working together I am a more resilient person.



cinching things up


Sometimes, most times, it takes two to figure things out. We bounce ideas off of each other. We check in with each other to make sure our most extreme selves are put into check. We balance and balance again.

When I came home on Tuesday there were books on my porch from a good friend. A couple of children's books and a book for me. Beautiful verse. Beautiful imagery. Beautiful moment. I came into my room and cried. A little at first, and then a whole bunch. It felt so good. That was one of my recent moments.

A couple of times since, Geo has had his moments. See, we believe in the promise of Easter, but we are still a little sad because we will have a bit of a wait until we see our little Olive again. But we figure things out together.

We talk without words more often lately. We know what the other person is thinking. We know we can't always solve things. We also know that we are being helpful when we just hold hands or maybe sigh together as we sit on the couch in the quiet evening.

Eternity seems like something you will think about tomorrow until you are forced to think about it today. I hash it out in prayer and in conversation and in unspoken ways, and then I cinch it all up by immersing myself in what matters most.

Still working on it.

Still working at it.