Another one bites the dust

Many things in life really don't last forever.

Like ankle bracelets.

My beloved treasure lived on my ankle since the summer of 2008. I chaperoned a beach trip for the middle schoolers at my church, and a few of the girls and I bought anklets to commemorate the trip. As you may have noticed, I get attached to things pretty easily, and this anklet was no exception. There was originally a dolphin charm that was on it, but that poor fella had to make a quick exit, because it annoyed the heck out of me when I was running. Other than that, though, that piece of intertwined yarn jewelry was nothing but awesome.

Goodbye to you.

About a week ago, I noticed my anklet was beginning to thin out at one part, and I feared that nothing but the worst was in store for this darling adornment. Unfortunately, I was correct.

It's not always fun to be right.

Sure enough, after my run the other morning, I took off my sock and felt a rip. Then, I heard something softly hit the ground, and I knew the disaster was a finality. It took all of the courage I could muster to look down and face the sad truth: my precious anklet was no more.

These tangible things we have in life will not last. They are all just temporary pleasantries that stay with us for a bit and then leave us forever. It's sad sometimes, but it's simply reality.

The good news is that Christ is not like that at all. He's forever. He won't leave us, and He sure won't fall apart like a cheap, worthless anklet. It's so amazing that we have someone who cares so deeply about us. While my ankle bracelet left me standing in my laundry room with a frown on my face and a piece of my heart missing, Jesus won't. In fact, He will even be there to comfort us when the things or people of this world leave us in brokenness.

It was a good three years with that anklet, but they were nothing like the forever I have with my main Man.

Those dreaded moments

Even positive experiences in life can produce anxiety.

And it's times like these that become dreaded moments, not necessarily because you are afraid or don't want to do what you are about to do, but because taking an action requires stepping out of your comfort zone. And not many people are fans of that.

It's that moment when your alarm goes off, and you know you need to get up and get moving, but the thought of removing the covers is far too unappealing. You've entered the dreaded "I'm so warm and never want to leave my bed" moment. But your day can't get started until you first get out of your bed. The covers have to come off in order for that to happen, though.

It's that moment when you're on the platform at the public pool, and you look down at the water below. You know you are going to have a blast once you make it in there, but you first have to make that leap. You've entered the dreaded "I don't wanna jump! I don't wanna jump! I don't wanna jump!" moment. But the only way to join the fun below is to take the plunge.

It was cold and windy, and we had a dreaded moment of getting out of the car.

It's that moment when you're meeting your group to go running when it's 34 degrees outside, and you're sitting in your car with the heat on until the last possible minute. You know that once you get going, you will warm up and have a great run , but you really don't want to have to experience the cold—even for a split second—when you first take off the extra layers you're wearing. You've entered the dreaded "Can't I just stay in my warm car, turn around, drive home and go back to bed??!" moment. You want and need to get that run in, though, and that sure won't happen while you stay in your front seat jamming out to Taylor Swift.

It's that moment when you have to take liquid cough medicine, but you can't find the strength to lift the little cup to your lips. You know that it will help make you feel better, but you just don't think you can tolerate the horrid substance dancing on your taste buds. You've entered the "I think I will still be able to taste this even though I'm holding my nose" moment. But the only way to avoid staying up half of the night is to defeat the moment and swallow the fake cherry flavor.

There are countless other examples of those moments that we have to overcome in order for good things to happen. In fact, every single time I race, I get horrible pre-race anxiety. It lasts actually until the moment the gun goes off or horn sounds (or whatever starting device is used). I dread that moment and even have thoughts sometimes about running in the complete opposite direction in order to avoid that one second where the race begins. But, once it starts, I'm fine and have complete focus on running the best race I possibly can.

Life is full of moments where we have to overcome anxieties that make us hesitant about doing things we either need to do or want to do. But, there are so many positives that can come if we can just get through these instances. God has big plans, but we have to be willing to trust Him, even when we are taken out of our comfort zones.

I mean, if good can come from suffering through some bad-tasting cough syrup for a few seconds, then imagine the amazing things that can happen if you just take a leap of faith every once in a while.

Running with coyotes

There are moments in life when you simply have to embrace the bizarre.

I had one of those moments today.

I go running really early in the morning, and it's not unusual to see a coyote or two in these before-the-sun-rises adventures. I've never had a problem with them (again, I only fear one thing in life, and it turns out coyotes actually hunt those hoppers), and they usually just run in the opposite direction, anyway. According to the Lake County Forest Preserve, coyotes don't pose much of a threat to humans and have a natural fear of people.

But not all of them.

I was running through a residential neighborhood this morning, and I spotted a coyote up ahead in the middle of the street. I expected him (for the sake of simplicity, we will refer to it as a male) to dart out of my sight before I got anywhere near him. But he didn't. In fact, it's almost as if he was waiting for me—just watching until I reached him.

And then, it happened.

I ran with a coyote.

He started running right beside me, and I wasn't quite sure what to do. Like I said, I had never been intimidated by coyotes, but I had also never had one this close to me and matching my pace. According to National Geographic, coyotes can run up to 40 miles per hour, so he was clearly running intentionally slower than his capabilities.

I pray a lot when I run, so in this moment I started asking God to protect me during this time. I hoped this wasn't some rabid animal that was some rare breed of evil that had an affinity to attack humans. And I honestly didn't want him to run the entire way home with me, because I really can't handle the responsibility of a pet right now—especially a coyote.

Before I could process another thought, a car turned the corner onto the street and startled my running buddy, sending him like a flash into the dark and out of my vision forever. I found this almost weirder than the coyote running with me, because I have never seen a car on this street. Ever. And I run this course every week.

While the coyote was running next to me, there were so many questions and uncertainties in my mind. While I had always heard coyotes weren't likely to harm people, I began to doubt it slightly. After all, if they were truly afraid of humans, then why was one within inches of my legs? One thing I knew for certain was that I didn't want to let some wild dog ruin my run or even alter my course.

Sometimes in life, we are going to encounter coyotes. People and situations are going to come into our lives unexpectedly and make us have doubts and hesitations. But the important thing to remember is simply to trust God and His perfect plan and not let those coyotes change our paths.

Just keep your focus, and He will guide you—even if He has to send a car to bail you out.

Never grow up

Sometimes I really don't want to grow up.

And, in some areas of life, I think we never should.

A few weeks ago, I was telling some people how excited I was about an upcoming roller-skating party. "What are you, 8?" was a question one of them asked me. I kindly reminded her that I am indeed 27—and some 27-year-old women enjoy spending their Saturday nights at the roller rink.

And you know what? It was an absolute blast! I skated forward; I skated backward; I attempted (and was successful) turns; I sang and danced while on my skates; I took part in the rink races; I did the Hokey Pokey; and I got to spend quality time with some dear friends. There's no denying that it was a great night.

Flashback to elementary!

I got a similar reaction to someone yesterday when I mentioned I was going ice skating that night. And, let's just say this wasn't the first time it was pointed out that I take part in childish activities. I'm OK with that.

Ice skating was awesome, too! I skated forward (no backward this time); I sang and danced while on ice; I mocked speed skaters with the one-hand-behind-the-back posture; and I let my best friend skate fast toward me, take my hands, and then spin me around and around—and we didn't even fall. Ice skating was a bit more challenging than roller skating, but at least I wasn't as cold as I thought I would be.

No, skating might not be the most mature activity to do on the weekends, but the truth is that it is good, clean fun. And, just like little kids do, you can't help but laugh at your friends when they bust it and take some tumbles to the floor (before you make sure they are OK, of course).

Obviously there are areas of life where we really do have to gain some maturity and higher levels of responsibility, but there are also multiple aspects of life in which we can learn from children. One is obviously the night life (including early bedtimes), and another is faith.

Faith like a child.

It's innocent and believing and doesn't need to see to believe. "Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see" (Hebrews 11:1). Kids have never actually seen reindeer on their rooftops or Santa coming down their chimneys, but they have the expectation every year and believe he will visit them; they've never seen a little fairy fly in their rooms and take teeth from under their pillows, but they expect it will happen and that there will be money in place of the teeth in the morning; they've never seen the footprints of Jesus in the mud beside them, but they believe He is with them every step of the way and expect Him to help them whenever they need.They don't try to fix everything themselves—they leave it in His hands, instead.

For some reason, though, it seems like the older we get the more we think we have control of everything. Reality check: we don't. This is another area where we need to act like kids—let go, and let someone else take care of it. Just like when kids get hurt or lost or confused and depend on their parents to save them, we can always depend on our Father to be there with us and help us through whatever it is we are facing. We just need faith.

Faith like a child.

Life is way too short to act like a grownup all of the time. Dance when you want; sing out loud at the top of your lungs; skate; run through the sprinklers in your work clothes; splash in some puddles; eat a snow cone; believe.

Just don't ever grow up completely.

Lost and found

Getting lost produces some of the most frustrating feelings.

Recently, I got turned around when I was out on a run. I was in a different area than usual, it was dark, and I wasn't exactly willing to slow down to try to find my way. Instead, I just kept running, hoping that streets would eventually connect to where I thought they would. Needless to say, I ended up going a bit farther than I had originally planned that morning.


I remember when I first started driving that I got lost quite a bit. There were moments of going the wrong way on one-way streets, traveling north when I should have been going south, and ending up in cities I never even knew existed. Each time this happened, I called my dad. He's insanely good with directions, and it seems like he can always help me navigate my way back to the right way, even when he isn't extremely familiar with the area in which I some how ended up in that moment.

Sometimes you just don't know where to go.

The funny thing is that I always think I know where I'm going. I tell myself I'm taking the right exit or that the road I need is just up ahead, and I keep going even when I realize that I likely took a wrong turn somewhere along the way. I always reach a breaking point, though, where I know I need to get out my phone and call my dad. There have been times when I have even stopped at gas stations or other places first to ask locals for directions, but it usually only makes sense when I call Skipper.


It's really humbling to have to call and ask for help when I'm lost. Sometimes I feel as if it's something my dad expects will happen—that I won't be able to find where I'm going and will have to call on him once again. I always feel like he's going to be disappointed in me for not being able to stay on the right path, but that's not the case. In fact, I think he enjoys being able to get me going in the right direction again.


It's quite obvious that this is often how things go in my life outside of driving and running. When I take a wrong turn or lose my way, my first instinct is to try to find my way on my own. I think I know exactly what I'm doing or where I'm going, and then it becomes evident that I need help. Lost and frustrated, I call on my Father to come and rescue me—I depend on Him to be able to get me back on the right path and going toward where I need to be going.


Similarly to admitting I'm lost on the roads, it's humbling to have to admit that I'm lost in life. Although I know that God is always there to set my path straight, for some reason I feel the need to seek it out myself. Sometimes I even ask others for help first rather than call on the One who really knows what the best way to go is. But things truly only make sense when I cry out to Him.


It's not always clear where we are going on the maps of our lives, but one thing is for certain: we have the best Cartographer possible. Just trust Him. He's more reliable than GPS. Or Siri.

Gloves are not for your feet

Beauty can be found in the most unlikely places.

Over the weekend, I ran a half marathon in not-so-lovely conditions. The temperatures were in the 40s, which normally would be great racing weather. The problem was that it was raining—pouring at some points—and the precipitation was obviously quite chilly, to say the least. Bottom line: outside=misery.

Now, imagine running 13.1 or (gasp!) 26.2 miles in this. Yes, that's what the crazies in Dallas were doing Sunday morning. But, you know what people I think are even more insane? The volunteers and spectators. It takes a special kind of person to stand out in those horrid conditions and not be moving around much. Did I mention you're getting soaked to the bone while you're out there?

I am seriously beyond thankful to everyone who was out there at the water and aid stations, serving as course guides, handing out medals at the finish (such as my dear friend Claudia), or doing countless other things to serve all of the runners who were out there Sunday morning. I can't say I would have been so willing to sacrifice extra sleep and being wrapped in warm blankets for a bunch of people I likely didn't know. But these are people with golden hearts full of warmth.

I LOVE my family. Seriously.

I am also particularly thankful for my family. My precious parents—who are there for me every single time I step on the starting line—were of course present. The Skipper wore his awesome bright orange poncho, while my mom was in her huge red Eskimo jacket with an umbrella to block the rain. Then there was my amazing sister (who HATES early mornings, by the way), with her big jacket and umbrella, as well. (Side note, her hair looked absolutely incredible for being out in humid, gross conditions. Diva.) My older brother even showed up, though I didn't see him until after I finished. I almost started crying. (Hey, it was an emotional moment, and I said almost.)

If that weren't enough for them simply to be there cheering for me in some of the worst weather possible, they showed me even more love after I finished.

As soon as I crossed the line, precious Claudia gave me a huge hug. I was so cold and out-of-sorts at that point, that I honestly didn't want her to let go. I didn't want to be cold, and I didn't want to fall down. When I finally started walking toward my family at the fence, I couldn't stop shaking. I stood there a few moments talking with them, and my whole body was out of control. My sister—gotta love her—offered me her umbrella and tried to cover me with it. I was already sopping wet, so this really wouldn't have helped much. My friend Steve (who ran an incredible race, as usual) said we should go into a building near us so we could warm up.

My mom and sister took me to the restroom and started helping me put on some dry clothes, both of them offering to give me some of their layers, because I didn't have much in my backpack. (I left all of my extra layers in my car, thinking I would actually have the energy to go back out there. Negative.) While I was changing in the stall, I was so cold and shaky, and I think I mentioned something about feeling like I was going to pass out. Immediately, Stephanie started trying to break the door down. I love that girl.

I think I kicked myself during the race...

When I finally came out and was sitting on the floor, my mom gave me some gloves and told me to try to put them on my feet, which by now were completely purple. Have you ever tried to put gloves on your feet? I don't recommend it. They likely won't fit. My sister and I laughed, first at our mom's ridiculous suggestion, then again as we actually attempted to fit the thumb spot on my big toe. Instead, my giving mom took off her own socks and covered my feet in them.

Even though Sunday's weather was some of the ugliest stuff we've seen in the area lately, I honestly thought it was one of the most beautiful days ever. So many of my friends got PRs in either the half or the full (Shaheen, GQ, Moby, Carolyn and Jen with her 2:57 full—who does that??!), I ran my best race, and my entire family was there for me.

It is amazing how God can work wonders through different people and events in our lives. While I was racing, at about mile 10 or so (if I'm off, who really cares?), it started pouring harder, and I felt like it was getting colder. I glanced at a woman directly ahead of me who was directing participants to make the next turn, and I couldn't help but praise Jesus for her. I have no idea who she is, but I know that I am truly thankful for her. She sacrificed her Sunday morning to stand in the cold rain and make sure that I knew where to turn.

Sunday morning was real proof that you can find love and peace in the midst of chaos and fear.

Cold hands, warm heart

I absolutely hate the cold weather.

And that might be a slight understatement.

I don't like walking outside and feeling chills go through every part of my body. I don't like having to let my car warm up, shivering the entire time until I can finally turn on the heater. I don't like wearing more than four layers at a time when I have to be outside. I don't like losing all feeling in my fingers, even when I am wearing gloves or mittens that are supposed to keep a person from feeling like she is suffering from frostbite. Or hypothermia. I don't like my hands getting so dry that my fingers start cracking and bleeding. Gross. I don't like turning on the heater in my home and constantly keeping a personal space heater near me.

As negative as I sound right now, I could add many more things to the list. I just don't like being cold. Clearly winter is not my favorite time of year.

I have lived in Texas my entire life, and I never plan to make a new home somewhere up North—especially the New England area. It pains me just to hear about some of the temperatures and wintry mixes they get up there. Not my cup of tea.

It's no snow cone...

I miss warm weather. I love the smell of freshly mowed grass on a sunny, summer morning. I love eating snow cones and savoring the combination of ice, high fructose corn syrup and artificial flavoring. I love floating in the pool with a nice book in my hands. I love not wearing four or more layers when I am outside. I love being outside in warm weather. I love the triple digits. I love the days of baseball season. I could probably go on forever about all of the things I love about summer. Perhaps I shall spare you too much reading.

The thing is, though, I cannot make the chilly weather vanish. It will not disappear. It will linger around until it is time for it to leave for good for the year. And I will endure it.

One thing I have to remember is that you can't let the cold weather bring about a cold heart. Sometimes it's easy to become grumpy and a bit snappy when the bleak skies have you feeling down. So, I have compiled a list of some things that are actually good about this time of year. I hope you agree. If not, so be it.

Things that aren't so horrible about cold-weather months:

1. Things that smell like Christmas make me smile.

2. National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation and the Grinch.

3. "All I Want for Christmas is You" by Mariah Carey and the entire Taylor Swift Christmas CD.

4. The food.

5. Scarves.

6. Spending more time with families during the holidays.

7. Winter break.

8. The possibility of ending up under the mistletoe. (Totally kidding. Maybe.)

9. Christmas lights.

As I reflect on this list, it's quite apparent that most of them refer to things Christmas-related. I am aware that I just stated the obvious for you, but I think Christmas does tend to make a lot of people happier. I understand that not everyone celebrates Christmas, and it's more politically correct to say "the holidays." I've never considered myself a PC person, and I don't intend to start now.

I know that people often get so caught up in the frivolous aspects of Christmas—many of which can be found on my above list—but it is also important to remember why we celebrate this time of year. Our Jesus came to the earth from a virgin in some of the poorest conditions possible, and He did it all for us. That is one sacred manger where our Lord slept, and we shouldn't forget to adore Him—now and always.

So, yes, I hate cold weather. But I am more than happy to be celebrating this time of year with the ones I love--even if I have to wear a ski jacket, mittens, and ear warmers to do so.

These are the scars of our lives

I find scars to be rather intriguing.

What's so fascinating about them is that each one has its own, unique story. I scar rather easily, so I have plenty of scars and plenty of stories to go with them.

For instance, there is the scar above my right eye from when I had to get stitches when I was 2 years old. My older brother and I were playing tag in a racquetball court locker room while our mom was tending to my baby sister. I stopped mid-run, but Chris was too dumb to notice (sorry, that was mean). He ran right into me and sent me flying into the corner of a bench. The result was a righteous black eye, multiple stitches, and a scar that will forever remain.

Then there is the scar on my right hand from when my favorite pet scratched me as she was trying to kill a spider that had just crawled on me. I miss you, Tabster.

I have a scar on my left ear from when I was an idiot. Sorry, that was vague—allow me to clarify. I can't get my ears pierced, because my scar tissue is just that bad. I already have little bumps from when I got them pierced when I was in kindergarten, but apparently I thought I was pretty invincible when I was a senior in high school. Big shocker there. I convinced myself it was wise to get my cartilage pierced. The result? Yes, I now have an unnecessary scar in place of where I wore that earring for a few months (if even that long). This is what happens when 18-year-olds make decisions. I clearly need to stick to stick-on earrings.

Even though you can't see it, there is a lovely scar on the back of my head from where the volleyball pole fell on my head the day before my college graduation. I can now say I've had my head stapled, and I have the scar to prove it. While it's not visible, it can definitely be felt. Just let me know if you'd ever like to feel my head.

There is also a scar on my stomach from when I was swimming at my friend's house one summer, and her ridiculously huge dog jumped up and left a bloody scratch across my body. I'm not sure why dogs always feel the need to jump on me, but for some reason I am always their first target. Thanks for the scar and the memories, dear canine pal.

My left knee is gross.

I have two scars on my left knee. One came from my childhood when I was riding bikes with my brother and dad. I was peddling so hard trying to be just like them and go fast, and I wasn't going to let a little (and by little, I mean gigantic) downhill stop me. Needless to say, I had a major wipeout. Massive amounts of blood ensued, and my knee was forever uglified. At least I got a really delicious peanut butter and jelly sandwich to make me forget about the pain for a bit. How is it that moms always know how to make things better?

The second scar on the same knee came my junior year of high school, and it's actually one of my favorite scar stories I own. My school operated on trimesters, and it was kind of weird that year. We started the second trimester for one week, then we went to Thanksgiving break. Well, I was absent the Friday before the break, and of course I forgot about this when we came back. My school had a policy where you had to have an absence slip the day you returned, and you had to get all of your teachers to sign it. Apparently all of my teachers early in the day still had their minds on vacation, because none of them had asked for my pass.

Then I went to English.

Mrs. Perry—who actually turned out to be one of my favorite teachers I ever had—liked to scare her students early before softening up later in the year. It was actually a fairly brilliant tactic, if you ask me. She asked for my absence slip, and I told her I didn't have one. She seemed pretty mad about that and told me to go get one from the office, and it was going to cost me a tardy. Tardy?? I was kind of a goody-goody in some aspects, and I absolutely hated getting in trouble for things other than talking too much or making jokes during class, especially the second week in a teacher's class. So, I hustled big time to go get that pass. I wasn't really thinking about the fact that it was lunchtime, so there might be a line at the office window.

Then I saw it.

Commence anxiety attack.

I was panicking as I waited in line for what seemed like an eternity, and as soon as I got the pass, I took off running back up the stairs so Mrs. Perry wouldn't think I was just taking my time and probably socializing with people who were at the early lunches. The downside to this was that I was wearing flip-flops that day, and my school had brick stairs. Combine that with the fact that I have a tendency to be a complete klutz, and you've got yourself a formula for disaster. One of my flip-flops got caught on the steps, and I had an epic fall. However, I got up as quickly as I could, told myself it would leave a mark but that I needed to suck it up and keep going. Plus, I really didn't want to look back and see how many people were probably entertained by my mishap.

I got back to Perry's room, gave her the pass, sat down and immediately raised my hand. The reason for this was because, as soon as I sat down, I had looked at my jeans and seen blood seeping through at my knee. I pulled my pants up to look at it, and I could see the bone sticking out through the skin. I thought the kid next to me was going to pass out. The good news is that Mrs. Perry felt so awful and impressed after I told her how the bloody mess happened, and I believe this was the moment that changed the way she treated me the rest of the year. We now had a bond—even though it came at my expense. At least I have a cool scar and somewhat deformed knee because of it.

Anytime my left knee even slightly touches something or gets nicked in just the right way, there is an extreme amount of pain that pangs through me, and I'm reminded of why my knee will never be completely normal.

The truth is, we all have scars, and some of them can't be seen. Those are the emotional scars that we carry with us as the result of broken hearts, painful memories, or countless other things in life that leave our minds questioning why such heart-wrenching incidents have to happen to us. But, even though scars are permanent, they still heal. Yes, my knee scars hurt when they get hit, but it's not a constant pain. It's only when those scars are reminded that they are there. Similarly, our emotional scars don't have to be surfaced forever—it's only when we bring them back to light that they hurt again. And, the less we do this, the less pain we will have to undergo.

All scars have their stories, but I think it's important to remember that the greatest story of scars comes from the One who endured tremendous pain that left marks on the hands and feet of our Jesus. Our scar stories are nothing compared to what He did for us.

And that's one scar story that's worth telling as often as possible.

Free cupcakes

There are moments when life just needs a few more colorful sprinkles.

I was in the grocery store the other day and overheard a little girl asking—nay, begging—her mom for a cupcake with purple icing and rainbow sprinkles. Her mom told her that those were not at this grocery store—they were at the special cupcake shop (one can assume something like Sprinkles or Dimples). The girl then pleaded with her mom to take her there, but her mother politely informed her little princess that those cupcakes were way too overpriced, especially to eat on a Wednesday afternoon.

Umm...really? (By the way, yes, at this point I was eavesdropping. Hey, I am easily entertained.)

"Well, I think cupcakes should be free for everyone!"

Cupcakes can be full of pizzaz!

I love the innocence and wisdom of a 5-year-old. (I only knew her age because her mom later told her that 5-year-olds should not act so pouty. I thought you were allowed to do that as a young child, but apparently I hold incorrect beliefs in this regard. If you're 5 and don't get your cherished cupcake, you'd better man-up and put on a happy face.) That was a really long parenthetical thought.

I started wondering what life would be like if everyone really did get free cupcakes. Assuming people wouldn't all become obese extreme gluttons, would there be a little bit more joy? As a teacher, I've seen the power of cupcakes at full force—people go crazy for those things! And it's not just the kiddos—apparently many adults have special cupcake-shaped holes in their hearts that they love to fill.

I honestly don't even like cupcakes, but I can see how just seeing them can excite people. They are generally presented in very attractive ways, and you can get really creative with them. And when they are topped with special toys, trinkets or plastic rings, talk about a glee-filled moment! Even I try to sneak a ring off a cupcake when the opportunity presents itself.

Plus, cupcakes are normally enjoyed at happy occasions. Birthday party? Cupcakes! Congrats on a new job? Cupcakes! Baby shower? Cupcakes! Wednesday afternoon? Cup—oops. I forgot. That's unacceptable.

The good news is that we can have our own cupcakes from God on a daily basis, even if they aren't quite in the form of sugar-loaded, bakery-made cavity-makers. But He constantly puts people and things in our lives that are meant to add that purple icing and sprinkles of multiple colors. And they usually last a lot longer.

You know what else is pretty neat? You could be a sprinkle or cupcake in someone else's life. You are a special piece of joy to another—a complete blessing from the most powerful and delicate Baker this world has ever known.

And one of the best parts is that His cupcakes are always available—even on Wednesday afternoons.

Dig a little deeper

I don't always do what I know I should do.

And I think this is often the case for many people, but we tend to overlook it.

The truth is, there are quite a few people in this world who are annoying. In fact, some of them straight up drive me crazy at times. The problem comes when I let the minor flaws in people be the only thing I see.

For instance, there is a woman in one of my grad school classes who talks way too much—often about things that are not relevant to the class or our topic of conversation in any manner—and it seems that she really is just doing this for attention and to make others have sympathy for her. It really aggravates me, especially when it forces us to waste time in class. I like to get out of there as early as possible, and her useless anecdotes don't help this by any means.

Enter guilty conscience.

It's later after class that I start to think to myself that perhaps she has no one else to listen to her stories. She seems like she leads a rather lonely life, and I truthfully don't know if she has a lot of friends outside of our grad class. And, honestly, though she can be a bit opinionated and sometimes even pompous, she has some great qualities to her. For example, she always asks how other people are doing, and she is quite articulate.

I've come to the conclusion that it's best to find the good characteristics in people rather than dwell on the minor things that send us to bonkersville. This is going to be my new goal: anytime I find myself in a situation where someone is annoying me, I am going to focus on all of the good qualities about that person. I believe that all people have some sort of good in them, and we should focus on that instead of their flaws.

This woman has a heart of solid love.

My mom is probably the best person I know who does this. I know I've said this before, but I have never heard her say a mean thing about anybody. Ever. In fact, she always told us: "If you don't have anything nice to say, then don't say anything at all." I find myself trying to be like her in this aspect more and more every day, though it's a lot more difficult than she makes it seem. She just has one of those genuinely kind hearts that blocks what the eyes see. I think we all need to look with loving hearts more often.

God made us all with purpose and love, and we are all special to Him. I can't sit here and be the judge of people, and I am sure that I do things that make people twitch. Because none of us is perfect, there are bad things in all of us. But, thankfully, there is also an inherent good in all of us, and I like the challenge of finding that in everyone. Even the meanest people have some glimmer of kindness somewhere in their beings.

I'm going to choose (and hopefully be successful) to embrace the challenge and embrace goodness and love.

I think the key word here is challenge.

Slip 'n Sliding

There are definitely times in my life when I feel overwhelmed.

Right now is currently one of those times.

I just feel like I have way too much going on, and it's almost as if I'm standing and sinking in a pool of quicksand, but there is no one there to pull me out. Cue the scene from "The Princess Bride." (Love that movie, by the way.) Anyway, it's like I am reaching my hand in the air, but the sand is beginning to cover my bracelets, so I know my hand is the next thing to go.

Then, somehow and some way, my breath returns, and I'm standing on the outside of the trap of the sands of death, feeling almost refreshed and renewed.

God.

He's the only answer in times like these. You know, those times when you are trying to be a great teacher, an effective coach, a successful grad student, a caring friend, an avid fan, a fast runner, a loving family member, learning to drive a bus, and still trying to enjoy the rest of whatever pops up in life. If I didn't have Him, I would be at the bottom of that quicksand pit in a heartbeat, and there really would be absolutely no one there to get me back on solid ground.

If you think about it, life is a lot like a giant Slip 'n Slide: if you don't take off fast enough, and you don't have enough power behind you, you're essentially going nowhere, and you are going to crash and burn. And it will hurt. But if you decide to take on your task full-throttle and head-first with as much zeal as you can muster, you are going to coast a great distance in soaring fashion and have an absolute blast.

We were Slip 'n Slide champs. Thanks, Skipper.

I remember when I was little, my dad would always make sure that our Slip 'n Slide had plenty of water so that my brother, sister, and I could all be successful in our attempts at making it to the end without stopping. That's what God does for us every day: He provides for us. Even when it seems like our personal Slip 'n Slides are suffering droughts, or our quicksand pits are heavier and more daunting than ever, He is there to give us a hand, ensure we have enough water, or just plain carry us.

So, I have pretty much decided that I'm going to treat the tough times just like my days of the front yard Slip 'n Slide: I'm going to take off at full speed, dive into them head-first, and let a powerful force beyond my control take me where I need to go.

Just like my dad wouldn't let me fail on that yellow tarp, I know God will never abandon me. It's comforting to know that, even when things seem way out-of-control, my quicksand will never be too much, and my Slip 'n Slide will never run dry.

Dream job

I suppose I could say I'm living the dream life.

Well, for me at least.

Growing up (especially toward the end of high school), I claimed that I wanted to be a sports reporter when I got older. This was partly true—I really did like the idea of being the next Linda Cohn or Erin Andrews. But, in the back of my mind, the thought of teaching and coaching was more appealing to me. I think my high school cross country coach had a lot to do with that. She truly was inspirational, and she even told me she could see me as a coach later in life.

So what did I do? I majored in journalism in college so that I could pursue sports reporting.

Then, after I graduated, I got my first reporting job covering high school sports for a local city. I honestly loved it (most of the time), but I found it peculiar that, when interviewing coaches, I frequently wished I were on the other end of the interview—not because I wanted to be interviewed, but because I knew what I was really supposed to be in life.

One morning while I was running, I was praying and found myself in a bunch of confusion. I was thanking God for my job, but at the same time I was asking for clarity: Why was I not content? I prayed for discernment and for God to reveal to me what I was supposed to do. I certainly didn't want to quit my job, but I knew it wasn't where I should be.

Sometimes God answers so clearly that it's almost ridiculous.

We had a company meeting later that morning, and our president announced that we were going out of business. I felt things could not get more obvious at this point. It was time to pursue what I was really meant to do.

So sweet that my runners picked me flowers. :)

Honestly, the only way to describe how I ended up with the greatest teaching job I could ever want in the fall of that year is simply the grace of God and His amazing plan.

Then this summer, after teaching at this school for three wonderful years, I was given the opportunity to add cross country/track coach to the mix. After much more consulting with God, I knew it was the right thing to do. Sure, I've gotten a lot less sleep since July (thanks mostly to being in grad school still and now having to go through bus driving certification), but it's so worth it. I absolutely love what I do, and I wouldn't trade my job for any other job out there.

I've learned that life doesn't always lead us to where we thought we would be. But sometimes it does. And, even if we're too stubborn to follow His plan the first time, that doesn't mean He won't still lead us to where we need to be. That's just His mercy and grace in action.

Who doesn't love seeing the sunrise at practice every morning?

My life at 27 may not be everything I originally pictured—let's just say I definitely didn't think I would still be this single—but I absolutely consider myself blessed beyond belief.