More than winning

There are moments in life when what you once thought was important takes a backseat to things that hold much more value.

Like people.

For the second year in a row, I was privileged enough to be part of a team made up of some of the fastest people I know in the metroplex for the 200-miles of insanity in the Texas Independence Relay. We came into the race this year hoping to defend our title but also knowing that we had some very tough competition that was certainly going to provide a challenge. While winning isn't everything, it's still a goal. After all, it's a race, and we are there to compete.

But there was a moment in the race when none of that even mattered anymore.

Early Sunday morning, we lost one of our runners during one of the trickiest legs on the course. Our van was the "support van" at the time, meaning we drove to various points in that particular runner's leg and made sure he knew where he was going and gave him water if he needed it. We arrived to the spot we had said we'd be to point him in the right direction and waited. And waited. And waited. We began to worry, because, based on the times we knew he could run, it was taking entirely too long for him to get to where we were.

Dolls 'n Towel Boyz

We started yelling for him and waiting in anticipation with each light we saw coming our way. (It was still very dark out, and all of the runners were wearing their headlamps and reflective gear.) But, just like when you're watching out the window waiting for either a special guest to arrive or your parents to come home with a new puppy, it felt like the moment we'd see him would never actually happen.

We called the other van, and none of our teammates had seen him yet, so we sent our van out to look for him, while three of us remained behind on the cold, dark trail hoping to see him come through soon. The minutes began ticking away, and the thought of winning kind of escaped our minds. We didn't care anymore. Our teammate was missing, and our only concern was making sure we found him and that he was safe.

Finally, after about 30 minutes of what seemed like some of the longest minutes ever, a teammate called to let us know that they found him and that he was back on course. Needless to say, we were thrilled to hear this. We had spent the last half hour calling out his name into the dark woods area—likely waking up neighbors—and being completely helpless to do anything to make him suddenly appear. And I can't even imagine the thoughts that went through his head. I know I would hate to be lost in a huge city that I didn't know, in the dark, and not sure how to find my way back to the right path.

Thank God for miracles.

We ended up losing our lead and finishing the race in second overall. I know it's not what we wanted, but I'd say that, in a race like this, the life experience you get, character you build, and friendships you form are more important than a trophy or medal that people may or may not ever see.

But they will see irreplaceable gems.

They will see Liz, the effervescent speedster who keeps everyone smiling with her precious joy and never hesitates to show what it means to be a true friend; they will see Evan, who doesn't know how to be mean to people and continually encourages those around him; they will see Craig, who shows so much genuine care for others and steps up to run an extra leg for a teammate who is hurt without even the thought of complaining; they will see Eddy, who gave everything he had all weekend long and continually expressed his gratitude for being able to be part of such an experience; they will see Fonz, who constantly keeps things lighthearted and is always there to offer a pat on the back; they will see Jose, who made sure everyone kept the cheering alive and powerful; they will see Kiran, who stepped up as a van driver and had such a patient attitude when others began to get cranky; they will see Conor, who showed so much grit and determination even when he felt like he couldn't; they will see Dane, who made sure he kept everyone entertained with his wit and puns right before he ran ridiculously fast; they will see Disco, who has a natural way of making people smile and is one of the most genuine people you will ever meet; and they will see Josh, our fearless captain who spent his 40th birthday running his tail off for a bunch of crazy people he chooses to call his friends on this 200-mile journey and who dedicated so much time and effort to making sure it was a great weekend for everyone.

To me, these people are so much more precious than any gold or silver.

You are going to win things in life, and you are going to lose others. You have to learn to lose, though, and those losses often help make you the person you are today. Each person on our team left it all out on the course, because we knew we were fighting for something greater than ourselves. We lost a race this weekend, but we also gained more than we could have asked for ourselves.

And that is worth more than anything that could be placed in a trophy case.

Clovers and monkey rings

I may have a master's degree, but I still contend that the greatest lessons I learn come from kids.

Because it's almost that, by knowing so little, they know so much.

As I do almost every Sunday afternoon, I went to watch my brother and sister play in their coed soccer game yesterday. One of their teammates has a precious 6-year-old daughter named Courtney, and some of us on the sidelines kind of look out for her while her dad plays if her mom isn't there. Yesterday she was spending a lot of time with my parents and Audrey (the dog), while I huddled on the ground and tried to create my own little self-tunnel to block the wind from making me any colder than I already was.

Not too long into the second half, my parents had to leave the soccer fields, because Audrey had managed to chew through her leash, and she is not the type of dog you can allow that kind of freedom at a wide-open park. (She's the epitome of OOC.) As my mom was leaving, she told me to watch Courtney, and the sweet kiddo sat next to me and started ripping through a patch of clovers on the ground, claiming she kept finding one-leaf clovers (which are actually just three-leaf clovers that had two of their body parts ripped from them by a 6-year-old).

It wasn't long before Courtney and I got up and made the trek across the park to the bathrooms. On the way, she explained in very specific detail what she did at what sounded like a day camp she attended during her Spring Break. My favorite part might have been when she told me that she had to take her lunch in a brown paper sack.

On the way back, Courtney found many more patches of clovers and kept telling me what shapes they were—some were letters, others were shapes, and one was even "a girl pointing." She also picked up two sticks and seemed shocked that a fire didn't start when she rubbed them together. The she asked me if we could go to the playground, but there were only about five minutes left in the game, so I told her she could ask her dad to go after the game. There were various other distractions—including dandelions that she labeled daisies—but she dropped everything she had gathered in her hands and started running toward the field when she saw her dad had the ball.

"Daddy! Go Daddy! That's my daddy!"

She was so proud and excited that nothing else mattered to her in that moment. Nothing at all.

When the game ended, Courtney didn't forget about asking her dad to go to the playground: "Dad, can me and her go play at the park?!"

That's not exactly how I thought that one would play out, but the next thing I knew we were walking back toward the playground, as my sister laughed at me for my diversion blowing up in my face. Courtney immediately went to the monkey bars (which were actually more like monkey rings) and became determined to make it across the entire way, but she took it one step at a time. First, she only went to the third one. Then the fourth. Then the fifth. There were nine total, and she told me her plan to go one more each time until she made it to the end.

She took little breaks after each feat, and a few times she would almost start and then hesitate and have to restart. The first time this happened, I said something about her readjusting to get a better grip, and she took a liking to the word "readjusting." From then on, I think she did a restart each time just so she could use that word. Each attempt, she had me stand at the ring that was her goal, and she trusted I was at the right one and didn't even bother counting for herself.

Courtney only had one attempt where she didn't make it to where she was supposed to, but she didn't even seem phased by it. She simply dropped to the ground, climbed the stairs again and gave it another try—and succeeded. Her innocent perseverance eventually led to her completing the entire row just as her dad was walking up to take her home. Perfect timing.

Sweet little Courtney taught me a lot yesterday, like the importance of ridding of distractions. We get so caught up in the various things going on in and around our lives, but we don't always do like Courtney did and drop everything to run to our Father. She also taught me the importance of forgetfulness: not remembering that we failed or letting failure be a determining factor in our future attempts. You simply have to go back up the stairs and take on those monkey rings one more time. And she reminded me of the importance of childlike faith through imagination. Yes, we should live in reality, but we also shouldn't be afraid to dream of possibilities that others might not see the way we do. Just because others don't believe or have hope for the same things as you doesn't mean they are impossible.

Maybe that patch of clovers really is a duck waving hello. You just never know.

Rock the right jacket

There are times when shopping can provide wisdom and insight you weren't expecting.

And it's more valuable than any purchase you can make.

I tagged along with my friend Betsy yesterday on a retail mission she had to complete, and we were chatting about various things as she tried to find the perfect jacket. We browsed two stores before she found the winner in the third store (I guess that whole "third time's a charm" thing is true every once in a while). She had tried on others in the previous stores—and even mentioned returning to the first store to buy a pretty snazzy jacket there—but it was rather obvious when she put on the sassy attire in the final store that there was really only one victor in this shopping escapade.

One thing you immediately notice about Betsy upon first meeting her is that she says things that are so profound but in a simple manner. As we were waiting for the perfect blazer to catch her eye and discussing very important matters, she said something that really stuck with me: "Sometimes you know you can rock a jacket, but you just don't want it. But then you find that jacket that's so you, and you don't even question it." (That might be more of a paraphrased version, but it's the gist of her point.)

Just because a jacket might seem awesome doesn't mean it's for you.

Some jackets are too expensive, some are uncomfortable, some are too flashy, some don't fit the way you want, some don't have the right look for you, some make your arms look stupid, some make you look like you're with child, and some just don't leave you saying, "I want to rock that," regardless of whether or not you could.

Some jackets just aren't right for you. Similarly, the whole "if the shoe fits" theory doesn't always apply—sometimes shoes fit but are quite uncomfortable.

Just because a job pays the bills doesn't mean it's the career you should pursue; just because a running shoe is pretty doesn't mean it will provide the stability you need; just because the milk smells halfway decent doesn't mean you should ignore the expiration date (though sometimes that one is acceptable); just because a person looks good on paper doesn't mean he or she is the right candidate for a job; just because a person makes you promises doesn't mean they won't turn out to be like pie-crusts; just because a movie gets good reviews doesn't mean you are going to like it; just because all of the "experts" predict a team to dominate the brackets doesn't mean it won't get knocked out in the first round by a 16 seed.

Just because everyone around you is putting a bunch of noise in your ears doesn't mean you should listen.

I bought an avocado the other that I really shouldn't have. It looked so wonderful on the outside, but when I picked it up I quickly realized that it wasn't ready. Avocados are supposed to be soft when they are ripe, and this particular avocado was not soft by any means, but it looked so good. I bought it. Needless to say, when I tried to cut it later that evening, I realized I should have gone with my gut in the store and selected another avocado.

There are so many times in life where we try to wear the wrong jackets or slice into unripe avocados rather than stick to the paths that deep down we know we are supposed to follow. But I would prefer not even to try on a jacket that I know isn't for me. There's one that's just right and doesn't necessarily come with such a high price tag.

Things are better when the heart is fully invested.

Can't pierce this

It can be rather frustrating when you want things you can't have.

Like pierced ears.

When I was in kindergarten, my parents took both my younger sister and me to get our ears pierced. I'm allergic to a few random things (like Benadryl), and I scar and bruise rather easily. Not too long after what I thought was a life-changing night at Claire's Boutique, my piercings got infected, and I had to remove the earrings and let the holes grow over. But, when they did, little scar tissue bumps remained, and more than one dermatologist advised my parents not to try to pierce over them, or the tiny little bumps—you can't even see them—could become much worse.

I was devastated.

It was really upsetting growing up and never being able to wear earrings. I always thought it was so unfair that my sister didn't have as sensitive skin as I did, and her ears always looked so pretty. More than once, I received earrings as gifts from people, and I always gave them to her. I certainly had no use for them. I tried clip-ons—they hurt. I tried magnetic earrings—they never stayed on my ears, and I lost multiple pair. I tried stick-ons—they always ended up in my hair or vanished. So I finally reached a point where I realized I would forever have naked ears.

I love Tie and earrings

And I was quite sad about it.

I don't know why earrings are so appealing to me. I don't really wear a lot of jewelry, I don't own any makeup or even know the first thing about how to put it on, I don't really know much about fashion (anything matches if you wear it with confidence), but there's something about earrings that makes me wish I were able to wear them.

When I turned 18 my senior year of high school, against my parents' admonitions, I got the cartilage on my ear pierced. Skipper and precious Mare had warned me that the same thing would likely happen, leaving me with yet another scar tissue bump on my ear, but I chose not to listen. I was 18—I knew everything.

Sometimes I hate it when my parents are right.

Sure enough, that super awesome act of rebellion that I thought was so worth the risk left me with an ear that wouldn't stop bleeding and hurting until I let the piercing grow over and heal. But, just like in my first year of grade school, in my final year I was left with a bump on my ear that will remain forever. (This bump is worse than my first experience, but it is thankfully more hidden.)

It often surprises people when they find out my ears aren't pierced, and they don't always understand why I don't just try getting them pierced again, even after I attempt to explain my story. In fact, just the other day, a woman asked me about the name for a certain style of earrings, and I said I didn't know, because my ears aren't pierced. She looked at me incredulously and said, "Oh, honey, you really should change that."

But I can't.

I have a stuffed koala named Tie that I've had since my early days in elementary school, and I can't sleep without him. I once drove more than 30 miles to spend the night at my parents' house, realized I forgot Tie and turned around and drove all the way home to get him before going back to my parents'. He's that worth it. Tie has a bow tie that won't stay tied—that's how he got his name—and he has this one piece of stitching that has been dangling from his neck ever since I got him. He also has a discolored spot on his nose that has always served as a reminder of his imperfections.

But I love every single thing about him.

I could have easily found him a better bow tie or had the stitching fixed or painted over his nose, but if I did that then he wouldn't be my Tie. Those perfect little imperfections make him him.

You don't have to be in pristine condition to be a treasured stuffed animal, and I don't think you have to wear earrings to be treasured, either. Just like I adore Tie and would not change a thing about him, I know God values His children—and the changes He wishes to make are matters of the heart and not of the ears. You're that worth it. I know it's hard sometimes not to wish we had things that we might not, but it's important to be able to find joy in those things we actually do have. You are the person you are for a reason, and you are not in the place in life you are without purpose. It's not the best idea to try to force things to happen that aren't meant to happen.

Trust me, you don't want to end up with another bump on your ear.

Get off the roof

I'm 29 years old, and I continue to be impacted by Disney on a regular basis.

And I'm perfectly fine with that.

Like any hip-happenin' gal, I found myself watching ABC Family on Saturday night (the Mavs weren't playing, and for some reason I decided to flip to college ball during commercial breaks so I could get wrapped up in some of the movies that made me believe in fairy tales). I saw the end of Cinderella and then The Little Mermaid and Mulan in their entireties.

Needless to say, I wanted to go dancing, sing my heart out and kick someone's a$* after that kind of lineup.

While I could relish in almost every moment of each movie, there were particular scenes in each film that stuck with me. Disney is more profound than you might think.

At the end of Cinderella (STOP READING IF YOU HAVE NEVER SEEN THIS TIMELESS CLASSIC AND DON'T WANT IT SPOILED), when the glass slipper that Cinderella lost at the palace breaks, and the Grand Duke acts as if the world has just ended and that nothing can be done to fix things, Cinderella chimes in and says, "But, you see, I have the other slipper."

And the dropped jaws and astounded gasps ensue.

My homegirls

Sometimes people will write you off completely—they won't give you chances and might make you feel like you're worth less than you really are. Don't let that happen. Don't be afraid to bust the glass slipper out of your apron pocket and reveal to the world that you are actually a precious gem and not a rock that blends in with every other rock on a man-made lakeshore. Don't be afraid to be rare.

In The Little Mermaid, when Scuttle flies back to the dock to inform Ariel, Sebastian and Flounder that the woman Prince Eric is about to marry is actually Ursula in disguise, Ariel boldly dives into the water in an attempt to swim down the boat and save her true love for making the biggest mistake of his life. However, she forgets to factor in the fact that she no longer has a mermaid fin and doesn't know how to swim anymore—after all, she wanted legs for jumping, dancing and strolling. But, thankfully, there are provisions around—a barrel, a rope and the sweet and surprisingly strong Flounder—to help get her to her destination.

Just because it seems like you are too weak and can only experience defeat doesn't mean victory won't be your ultimate outcome. After all, who was kissing the prince at the end of the movie?

The night was capped off with inspiration after Mulan rescued an entire nation from the Huns by sending Shan Yu flying through the sky on a makeshift rocket, courtesy of her lovable pal Mushu. Right after doing so, knowing a huge explosion is seconds away, Mulan takes off running, saying to herself as she is hauling tail, "Get off the roof, get off the roof, get off the roof!" She doesn't even look back and, not surprisingly, manages to make a seemingly impossible escape and land safely before the entire kingdom honors her for her heroism.

There are times when you just know in your heart exactly what you have to do. You can't listen to other voices telling you otherwise, and you can't hesitate. Rather, you just have to be bold and take a leap of faith with the confidence that you're going on the right path, no matter how scary it may seem at the time. Sometimes lanterns are attached to ropes to allow you to slide to the safety of the earth below you.

It takes boldness to reveal you broke rules and pretended to be someone you aren't when you're in a servant position; it takes guts to dive into unknown waters when you don't know how to swim; it takes courage to take on an enemy and leap from a roof in hopes that a lantern will keep you from harm. Life is full of risks, but you have to take them if your fairy tale is going to be worth telling.

Sometimes the life of a princess is a bit more dangerous than you might have thought it would be, especially when you're the daughter of the King of Kings. It's not always easy to trust what He's doing or what path He's leading you down, but you just have to believe that His lantern is perfectly safe throughout the entire journey.

After all, it sure would be nice to stand before Him one day and have Him say what Mulan's father said to her at the end of the movie: "The greatest gift and honor is having you as a daughter."