The best thing to do when you find yourself in a hurting or vulnerable place is to surround yourself with the strongest, finest, most positive people you know.
Kristin Armstrong
When we focus on our gratitude, the tide of disappointment goes out and the tide of love rushes in.
When everything is moving and shifting, the only way to counteract chaos is stillness. When things feel extraordinary, strive for ordinary. When the surface is wavy, dive deeper for quieter waters.
I write about the power of trying, because I want to be okay with failing. I write about generosity because I battle selfishness. I write about joy because I know sorrow. I write about faith because I almost lost mine, and I know what it is to be broken and in need of redemption. I write about gratitude because I am thankful - for all of it.
It's not only moving that creates new starting points. Sometimes all it takes is a subtle shift in perspective, an opening of the mind, an intentional pause and reset, or a new route to start to see new options and new possibilities.
When the seasons shift, even the subtle beginning, the scent of a promised change, I feel something stir inside me. Hopefulness? Gratitude? Openness? Whatever it is, it's welcome.
Times of transition are strenuous, but I love them. They are an opportunity to purge, rethink priorities, and be intentional about new habits. We can make our new normal any way we want.
Pause today and notice something you have worked hard on and recognize yourself for it. Acknowledge your effort.
Disappointment is a sticky one, because no one can steal contentment, joy, gratitude, or peace - we have to give it away.
Life is too sweet and too short to express our affection with just our thumbs. Touch is meant for more than a keyboard.
We either live with intention or exist by default.
I love the big fresh starts, the clean slates like birthdays and new years, but I also really like the idea that we can get up every morning and start over.
Freedom is not the absence of obligation or restraint, but the freedom of movement within healthy, chosen parameters.
I think I run my strongest when I run with joy, with gratitude, with focus, with grace.
Whether I'm running, working, relating, parenting, learning - whatever I'm doing, I want to surround myself with people who push me.
I run hills anytime I really have to think.
Real connection and intimacy is like a meal, not a sugar fix.
It's easy to lose sight of God when life is sweet and easy, but there is something awesome about despair, and it is the closeness of God when we are at our weakest.
Every year, I appreciate life more because of the deeper understanding of what it took to get this far.
Runners, by nature, are intentional people and normally pretty light on our feet.
Sometimes when we have so much going on, it's easy to forsake the things that seem like personal luxuries - for example, our morning run. But it isn't a luxury at all, when it is the thing that allows us and empowers us to face everything else.
I realize that I am typically vulnerable only when and where and how much it suits me. I can choose my writer words and even go back and edit.
Parents walk a fine line between discipline and grace - values have to hold even when circumstances change or call for compromise or compassion. It's the ultimate challenge to be both firm and fluid, soft and strong, yielding yet rock solid.
Circumstances in life often take us places that we never intended to go. We visit some places of beauty, others of pain and desolation.
I want to be intentional about my freedom - in choosing it, honoring it, and protecting it. One of the best feelings I know is feeling truly free.
Typically creative people are usually not clock-slaves or list-makers, so the idea of enforcing goals and deadlines can be somewhat daunting.
Before I got divorced, I was personally unfamiliar with trial, or at least trial of serious, heart-wrenching proportions. I figured that life went smoothly if you tried hard, and if you messed up, or things weren't working out, you just tried harder.
I never imagined that divorce would be part of my life history or my family's legacy. When people say that divorce can be more painful than death, I understand why. But like any great trial, God uses everything for good, if we allow Him to heal us.
If your husband asks what you think, tell him. If you have a preference, voice it. If you have a question, ask it. If you want to cry, bawl. If you need help, raise your hand and jump up and down.
No matter who is watching or paying the paycheck, we are ultimately each our own boss.
When we focus on our pain, our ache deepens.
To me, there is no greater way to achieve clarity than to run alone, or share miles with a trusted friend.
The time I spend in the morning - praying, sipping coffee, and coming up with my list - is a ritual I relish. I have done it for so long now that I subconsciously measure whether or not the things I'm doing match with what I should be doing, what I want to be doing, and the life I want to live.
One of the best things about good mothers is that they remind their children to take care of themselves.
Running fills the cup that has to pour out for others. Running feeds the soul that has a responsibility to nourish. Running sets the anchor that limits the drift of the day. Running clears the mind that has a myriad of challenges to solve. Running tends to the self so that selfishness can subside.
Running fills a need so we make fewer demands on others. Running reveals the roots of negative thinking, so the weeds can be pulled. Running reconnects the soul to the source, inspiring hope and creativity.
I find significance in all kinds of small details when I run; I'm hyper aware of my surroundings, the sensations in my body, and the thoughts running through my mind. Everything is clearer, heightened.
We all have our ways of handling fear and managing trying; jumping in or climbing down, a direct approach or a delay, joyful or miserable, a spirit of adventure, or God help me, get this thing over with.
I think, as most of us do, I put such high expectations on myself that this spills over onto other people. And not everyone is wired this way. Some people can shrug expectations off their shoulders like a cardigan, remaining cool and breezy. Others wear them like a parka with a stuck zipper, hot and stifling.
When I forget who I am, I remind myself by finding my stride. I remember that I am strong, free, and loved, and that with God's help I can weather whatever comes.
As my children leave the protected parameters of the bay called childhood and enter the wavier seas of adolescence, I'm starting to get seasick.
Runners and yogis are alike in lots of ways, and not just because some of us need yoga to unkink what running jams. Runners and yogis are also alike because of this tortoise shell idea, this 'home' we can access inside ourselves.
The things I write about are the things that I am passionate about, interested in, and fighting for in my life.
