A year ago today, I ran the CDPHP Workforce Challenge at 36 weeks pregnant. It’s a tradition I have, to run one race while pregnant with each kid. It’s also a personal tradition of mine to do the Workforce Challenge. The hospital where I work is huge, and the race itself is huge. I can go to the race and disappear amidst the 10,000 participants and have time to myself, sandwiched in between walks to and from my car wherever I manage to find a parking spot downtown.
In order to do the race, I have to sign up in February, because the 10,000 spots fill up long before race day. I missed it a time or two because of that, and now I have a reminder in my calendar that lets me know when it’s time to sign up each year.
Except this year, in February, things were so bad that I couldn’t think about May. I couldn’t plan anything definite so far ahead. Just getting through each day took so much energy, let alone thinking about the future. So February came and went. March, too. And in April, things started to get better.
Ever since we’ve been married, my parents have supported the Chaplain and I by keeping the kids so that we can go away by ourselves about once a year.
Last year at this time, we were spending a week in Portland, Oregon together. In fact, it was the first time since I’d become a mom that I’d spent Mother’s Day away from my kids.
The trip felt like an escape for many reasons. The Chaplain was at a stressful, demanding job. I was eight months pregnant with Seven. We had a busy home life. We were tired and tense.
I’d planned the trip on the back of a trip to Portland I’d done with my dad and siblings in 2014. We’d gone to celebrate my dad’s 60th birthday by climbing Mt. Hood. The week was spent hiking, with the mountain climb in the middle.
Building on that, I hoped to revisit my favorite trails, and try one or two new ones. I also wanted to spend some time in downtown Portland, which we hadn’t had time to do on the 2014 trip. The Chaplain and I both had some ideas and recommendations for places to check out in the city. And I really wanted to see a Pacific Coast sunset.
For homeschool devotions, we are reading Rediscover Jesus: An Invitation, by Matthew Kelly. It was handed out at our church during Lent.
The the book was written for grown ups, but on a very basic level; I’m guessing third grade. The only thing that makes it adult is that the examples he uses to illustrate points are ones that primarily relate to work, marriage, parenting, etc. I mainly edited these references on the fly to either eliminate things my kids wouldn’t get, or mostly, change the examples to ones kids would relate to. I incorporated my own examples about school, duty as it relates to being a kid (obedience, chores, etc.), friendships, and siblings.
I have appreciated the bite-sized chapters. In them, Kelly challenges us to add practices to our lives to help grow our faith. He supports his claims with his examples and with scripture. He gives the reader things to do right now – ways to start small with direction to take it to the next level with time.
A couple of days ago, chapter was “Comfortably Comfortable.” The subject? The importance of self denial in spiritual growth.
In our second apartment, year two of our marriage, we painted feature walls in the living room, kitchen, dining room, and master bedroom. Our ground floor apartment got little light and had all white walls. Before the feature walls, our living space was both dark and stark. Not a good combination.
My favorite wall was the orange faux finish we did in the dining room. I don’t really like orange, so I don’t know why I ended up going with that color, but it was rich and deep, and made me happy every time I walked past it. I was sad to paint it over with primer when our lease was up at the end of the year and we moved into our first home.
While I miss my orange feature wall, I could never make myself do anything so bold in this house. Each time I paint a room, it means my kids have to fend for themselves for 24-48 hours, which they don’t mind, but means that laundry, dishes, and cooking aren’t happening. Plus, my energy waxes and wanes, and if I paint it and hate it, I may not have the get-up-and-go to fix it for months.
I don’t know about you, but for me, winters have gotten harder as each year has gone by. My body and mind suffer from the lack of light. Many times when I start getting my energy back in the spring, it is spent working to bring more light to the house to help with the dark next winter. I paint lighter colors on the walls, add timers for my lights (the poor man’s smart bulb), and make new pillow covers and quilts.
During one of these nesting pushes, I painted two walls in the gold living room a shade of cream, thinking it would help bring more light in. I had already painted my dining room blush pink and loved it, and figured this would have the same effect.
What do you know about Sarajevo? I remember a number of current events from my childhood, the space shuttle Challenger, Operation Dessert Storm, the Rwandan Genocide. I remembered the name Sarajevo, but I didn’t know much about what had happened there.
I found Flowers for Sarajevo, by John McCutcheon, illustrated by Kristy Caldwell, at our library. I don’t even think I opened it, but the cover art was so arresting I was sure I would like it.
Weeks passed as it floated around our house. I couldn’t seem to sit down long enough to read it to everyone. We already read aloud for school each day and I have been flirting with homeschool burnout; adding more books didn’t feel doable.
My mom finally read the book to the kids one weekend when she was here for a visit. She reported it made her cry, along with my youngest daughter.
Finally, I read it. To myself. The kids were in bed as I paged through the story. The illustrations were as amazing as the cover. They reminded me of graphic novel art, and the colors and lines communicate such beauty. I finished it at 1:30 a.m. on a night when my own home felt like a war zone.
