Trix are not just for kids

There are too many rules in life that aren't actually rules.

When I was running at the lake yesterday morning, I saw an older-looking lady power walking and pushing a stroller as she was coming toward me in the opposite direction. I figured she was taking a grandchild out for a stroll or something, because surely she didn't have a child that young. But I was way off. There was no child in the stroller. Instead, there was a chihuahua.

I tried not to judge her.

I don't own a dog, so I'm not sure if this is standard procedure for taking such a small animal to participate in one's exercise endeavors, though I can't say I've ever seen this done before. Little dog in purse? Yes. Little dog in baby stroller? No.

But, as far as I know, there is no law against such a thing.

I think far too often people try to create these unwritten rules of things people can and cannot do, and they don't always allow us the freedom to be the people God designed us to be. Who are we to say that an elderly woman can't bring her dog with her in a baby stroller to her Sunday morning excursion around the lake? Maybe that dog is one of the only things she has precious to her in life. Maybe it's very meaningful for her to have that pet with her as often as possible. The dog sure seemed to be enjoying its little adventure.

There are some rules that obviously need to be followed: don't run by the pool, be considerate of others, don't litter, put your phone on silent during speeches and performances. But there are other "rules" that are simply ridiculous: you can't wear white pants after Labor Day (who freaking cares?); no swimming for 30 minutes after you eat (I'm pretty sure you can judge on your own how long you need, especially if you're really just hanging out in the water and not practicing your freestyle); you shouldn't wear a brown belt with black shoes (anything matches if you wear it with confidence); it's not acceptable to play Christmas music or put up your Christmas lights until the day after Thanksgiving (false—if you want the spirit of Christmas to be in your life all year long, so be it).

I'll never forget an experience I had in my last year of college. I wore sweats a lot to class, because, well, who the heck am I trying to impress in the History of the Habsburg Monarchy? If I was going to learn about things I might never use again in life (and the things that would actually be helpful to me), I sure was going to be comfortable doing it. I guess some people were a bit too observant of my choice of attire. A girl in my class approached me one day just after we'd been dismissed and told me she had recently cleaned out her closet and was planning to donate her clothes to charity but that she would like to give me some first, because she noticed I wore my sweats pretty much every day. When I told her no thanks and that I was perfectly fine with what I had, she had a disappointed and almost disdainful look on her face. Oops?

The truth is, if such standards people are expected to follow are violated, who gets hurt? No one. Instead of getting so caught up in petty things that have no real value in life, maybe we should care about things that matter: like loving people for the individuals they are and appreciating the quirks that make them unique. It's not our job to judge others. God has the ultimate judgment, and He's after the heart—not what color your pants are during certain months in the year.

So, if you want to push your dog in a stroller, go for it—and know that at least Someone will love you no matter how silly it seems to others.

Forever friends

There are some friends you may not get to see as often as you'd like, but you know you'll always pick up just like no time has even passed.

They're what you can call forever friends. And they are just that: forever.

I was privileged enough to be able to spend time with two of my forever friends—LizRaz and Kebbers—today, and I was reminded just how blessed I am to have the people in my life I do. These are the type of people who would drop everything they were doing and come rescue you if you were stranded on some road with a flat tire or would show up at your doorstep with cookies and tissues if you called them crying with a broken heart.

Liz went red!

Because, even if they're not there with you, they will find a way to be there for you.

And they teach you so much about life, even if they're not trying.

My friend Liz has gone through so much in the past few years. In 2010, she lost her sister, Mary, to cancer. I saw how hard it was for Liz the entire time Mary was battling cancer, and I was there with her when Mary died. I can't even begin to understand just exactly how much it hurts to lose your sister, but I know it would tear my world apart.

Liz continued training for triathlons in memory of Mary, whom we had always referred to as her "sherpa" at races. She trained her tail off and finally completed a full IronMan, a race I know Mary was watching from above the entire time. Liz taught me about real strength as she worked to reach a goal that was going to honor someone so dear to her heart, and in the past few years she's truly grown in faith and hope.

And in love.

Liz went through a few not-so-great relationships until she finally met Chris, the man who changed her entire world and helped bring her to a new level of happiness. They're married now, and it's so refreshing to see their support for each other and desire to honor God in the way they live their lives.

Fairies for Mary

Both Liz and Kebs are such great role models for me, and they never get bored of the ridiculous stories I have for them or the silly things I say and do. They're always on my side, and I know they would kick the a$* of anyone who tried to hurt me. They are genuine forever friends.

While many of us are blessed with those forever friends, we all also have the gift of a true Forever Friend who will never ever leave us and offers more grace, mercy and love than we will ever know. And, if you don't spend as much time with Him as He wants you to, He welcomes you back with open arms—no matter where you've gone or how long it's been.

He's strength. He's hope. He's love. He's forever.

He's your Forever Friend you often see in those forever friends He's given you here on earth.

Kick off the heels

Riding roller coasters with my sister is hilarious.

When the ride starts to trek up to its highest point right before you start falling at warp speeds and twisting and turning to excitements you don't even have time to see fully, she always says, "I wanna go back! I wanna go back! I don't want to do this anymore!" But, it's too late—you're already committed, and you have no choice but to finish the ride and hang on for dear life.

Our worlds can be like roller coasters. Oftentimes I get so busy and caught up in the mass chaos that is my life that I have to remind myself to breathe.

But, even in all of the hustle and bustle, sometimes time stands still for a brief stint, and truths are revealed. That happened this weekend. On Saturday, our seniors graduated at 12:30, and it was also a mandatory workday for all of those employed by the district. I was also working graduation that day as a row leader. That same morning, however, was the North Texas Komen 5K, which I do every year in memory of a dear friend who lost her battle with cancer. I got permission to run the race and then meet everyone at the Stars Center, where our kiddos were graduating.

Saturday morning, alarm goes off. Begin madness.

After the race and awards ceremony, I hurried to my car, scarfed some food while I was driving to Lifetime Fitness, darted into the locker room to shower and get ready, hustled back to my car and headed to the Stars Center. When I got there, I knew it would probably be easier to park elsewhere so I didn't have to deal with the traffic mess that comes with any big event, so I parked in a somewhat nearby hotel parking lot (even though there were signs all around that said only guest could park there and that all others would be towed—please don't report me). I ran (in heels) through a few parking lots and hoped the police officer in one of them didn't know I had just parked somewhere I shouldn't have, because it was obvious I was on my way to a graduation with a robe in my hands.

I finally made it to the gathering area, led my row in the ceremony, watched kids (who are no longer kids) I've seen grow up for the last four years walk across a stage and on to new chapters of their lives, and applauded as they threw their caps in the air.

Then it was go time. Again.

This time, I took off my heels and dashed through those parking lots again barefooted and feeling like I was running on hot coals. I think I also stepped on something sharp, but there really wasn't time to acknowledge it—or the pain. My friend Laz's birthday was Saturday, and I had to haul tail home to change and then book it to Dallytown for some froyo fun. When I finally made it home that night, I was exhausted. The Rangers had lost to the Blue Jays in 18 innings that same day, and I felt like I had played about 18 innings myself. The only thing on my mind was closing my eyes and shutting down my mind.

Survivors

Sunday wasn't as busy, but it was kind of close with multiple tasks and driving distances piling on top of each other. It seemed fitting that I woke up and ran in a downpour of rain and a thunder and lightning storm. It was actually rather fun to splash in every puddle and come home looking and feeling like a drenched rat.

Here are some things I was able to take away from this weekend after looking past the fatigue and busy-ness:

1. Be nice, because you never know what someone is facing in life.

Prior to the awards at the Komen race, the breast cancer survivors came onto the stage carrying signs of how many years they've lived beyond their diagnoses. It's incredibly inspiring—the longest for this year was 37 years. By simply looking at these women, if they weren't wearing their pink "survivor" shirts and carrying those signs, you would never know the warriors they were and the battles they had endured. You wouldn't know their struggles and how much fight within them it took to keep facing each day with hope and belief. The truth is, we don't know always know what people are dealing with each day they wake up—you only get one life, and there's no point in living it with mean attitudes and bitterness. Be nice. Love people.

They were just freshmen.

2. Time is precious.

I honestly can't believe how quickly time seems to pass by us. I just finished my fifth year of teaching, but I remember my very first day like it was yesterday. And the kids that graduated Saturday—weren't they just freshmen? I had the privilege to teach some of them all four years as they went through the more advanced broadcasting and journalism classes and were part of the news show crew and newspaper staff. They worked so hard and dedicated so much of their time that I think there were some weeks they saw me more than their parents. At times I even felt like a mom of sorts. Watching them graduate on Saturday, one of the most cliché thoughts ran through my head: They just grow up so fast. So cherish each moment you have on this earth, because we don't have forever.

3. Running in heels is not always a good idea.

I feel like this might be self-explanatory, but (big shocker) I'm willing to elaborate. Now, some people have mastered this art, but there are those who should simply give up this feat altogether—even if it means running with the poor soles of your feet being scorched by the beautiful Texas pavement. I think we often run with our metaphorical heels in life. We get so caught up in what we're doing and start going way too fast that we forget about the consequences of falling flat on our faces or getting hurtful blisters because of our choices. Sometimes, though, it's better to be like little kids and kick off those shoes and just take off boldly for whatever destinations we're trying to reach.

4. Friends make life better.

When I finally made it to Dallas and got to spend time with people I adore, the stresses and time crunches of the day melted away faster than my froyo would have if we had sat outside in the June Texas temps. Life is not meant to be spent alone, and making memories with those you care about—and who care about you, as well—is precious and priceless.

You can't exactly get off of the roller coaster once it's begun, but somehow you can pause while you're on it and still soak in all of the greatness around you as you begin to understand that, while life is often completely crazy, it's also completely beautiful.

Weak made strong

I lift weights once a week.

I'm obviously one giant walking muscle.

But, believe it or not, there are certain times where I'm not necessarily as strong as I would like to be. I've become pretty talented at carrying more groceries than I should at once, and I've mastered my handstand pushups, but I still sometimes struggle when trying to move heavy objects. As stubborn as I am at times when it comes to asking others for help, there are definitely things I cannot do on my own.

But that doesn't mean I won't try.

I remember a few years ago when I was moving and loading items from my storage unit onto my moving truck, and I realized it was rather foolish to attempt all on my own. But, for some reason or another, my parents weren't available to help, and I didn't want to bother anyone else. There was a particular love seat I owned that was insanely heavy—I mean insanely heavy. The last time I had moved, my dad and brother had struggled a bit trying to carry it together.

And I thought I would be able to load it into a truck with no problem.

Beast mode

Surprisingly, I got it to the truck—scraping and scooting it on the concrete and probably tearing up the bottom of it completely—but then I had to get it up the ramp. (I'm sure it was a humorous sight to see a petite person trying to push this massive love seat up an incline, but thankfully I have no visual evidence of this adventure.) The bigger problem came when I got it to the top of the ramp, where there was a protrusion of some sort between the ramp and the open space in the back of the truck. The only way for the furniture to get into that truck was for it to be lifted over that obstacle.

This is where I found myself in quite the predicament.

How the heck was I going to lift this thing—especially when it was on an incline, and my body pushing against it with all of the might I had was the only thing preventing it from sliding back down to the ground?!

I don't remember how long it took me, and I will never be able to explain exactly how I got that couch in that truck. All I remember is that I tried so many different things, sweated more than normal, didn't think the happiest of thoughts in such frustration, and yelled really not nice things at an inanimate object. I also remember praying. A lot. I needed strength I didn't have in that moment, and somehow I got it.

When I was at the gym last week, there was a bar with two 45-pound weights on each side blocking what I needed. That's 225 pounds that I didn't want to have to handle. So, this time, rather than risking a hernia, I let a buffer-looking male move it for me when he saw me staring at it and contemplating what my plan of action would be.

There are moments when you simply have to acknowledge your weakness.

We talked a bit about this in church yesterday. Paul wrote in his letter to the Corinthians reminding them that Christ's power is made perfect in weakness, and he said, "For when I am weak, then I am strong" (see 2 Corinthians 12:9-10). I don't really remind myself of this often enough, because, quite honestly, I don't like to think of myself as weak. But it's in those moments when we are at our weakest that Christ's strength can be seen so much, because He can use even the most vulnerable people to do some of the mightiest things. Whether you feel weak physically, emotionally, or spiritually, He can still use you and make His strength known.

I may not be able to do power cleans at the gym, and moving furniture is not my forte, but I know that when my heart is feeling at its lowest I have a Father who will sweep me up and give me strength that I never even knew I had. It's like in Dr. Suess' How the Grinch Stole Christmas when the Grinch's heart grows three sizes, and he's able to lift the sleigh full of toys and return them to the precious people of Whoville.

So don't be afraid when you feel like you're weak—for when you are weak, then you are strong.

Ready for the rides

Magnitude doesn't always change when you get older.

When you're a little kid, things tend to seem a lot bigger than they actually are. Grownups look like giants; the length of the soccer field seems miles long; doors are heavier when you try to open them; Capri Sun pouches last longer; the passenger seat in your mom's car holds special powers; malls are giant danger zones where you can get lost from your parents; and jumping off from the high diving board at the public pool is the equivalent of voluntarily descending from the Empire State Building.

Many of these perceptions change as we get older, though there are certain things that still maintain mountainous statuses when they undesirably enter into our lives.

Like the anxiety of the unknown.

I remember when I was a little girl and the Black Hole first made its appearance at Wet 'n Wild (back before it was renamed Hurricane Harbor). It was a two-person ride, and—according to the park rules—my siblings and I were too small to ride it together, so my dad usually rode with us individually. (I think my mom did every so often, too, but she's not a big fan of those rides. She preferred the wave pool and the "blue tube" slides.) One thing about the Black Hole is that it is quite fittingly named—it's very dark in there almost the entire time. It's pretty exciting when there are lights, because it looks like you are about to run into them, but you drop right before you think your face is about to smash into something you can barely see.

The Black Hole

It's awesome.

I've never been fearful of rides at theme parks or water parks, and I really enjoyed the excitement of the Black Hole, but I think one thing that made me so confident is that I knew my dad was right there with me, weighing the float down so that we wouldn't flip (apparently that's the hesitation in letting two small children ride together). My dad would be with me for the entire ride, so any unexpected drops and turns were nothing to worry about—we were in this together, and I knew we would make it to see the sunlight with no harm done.

And I always asked if we could go again.

Sometimes life is like the Black Hole: there are so many things that come your way that you don't anticipate, and you find yourself holding on for dear life to whatever handles you can find. The surprises you encounter seem even more magnified than they would if you were a little kid again—and this time they feel all too real, because you're supposedly expected to know how to handle them as an adult.

I have a lot of uncertainties dancing all around me, and some of them give me slight anxiety. I'm moving from Canada (as I lovingly like to call it) at the end of July, and I don't know where I'm going to live until the end of October—and, even then, the actual physical place is still a mystery right now. I'm not too worried about it, but that might also be because I have been trying to avoid even thinking about anything involving the future lately.

But, the good news is that I know don't have to worry about flipping over—I have a Father who will be with me until the end, weighing that raft down and overpowering the darkness that encompasses all that surrounds me. God does that for His children, because we're too small to take on all of this madness by ourselves. It's comforting, actually, so much so that you don't have to fear any wild rides that you start.

And you might even find yourself asking if you can go again, because you know you'll never have to go alone.

The audition

There are certain songs in life that can take you back in time to moments you will absolutely never forget.

Even if those moments weren't your most shining.

When I was in the grocery store the other day, a song started playing overhead that gave me a flashback to a singing audition that might make the judges on The Voice quit their jobs and never listen to another person sing again. Ever.

Yes, it was that bad.

I've never been musically talented. I even got in trouble with my music teacher in the fifth grade because she thought I was playing the recorder badly on purpose. She sent me out in the hall, and I remember seeing all of my hopes of any musical endeavors I had come crashing down—after all, this was the same teacher who had given me a talking part when I had auditioned for a solo in the choir performance for open house the year before. It was a sad reality that hurt, and I never took music seriously again.

I can't help but admit that I love performing, and anyone who knows me has probably seen me sing Taylor Swift's "Love Story" at least once or twice, but I know I'm never going to sign on with a record label, and I doubt I'll be invited to perform at any awards shows anytime soon (or ever, whatever). And, after my elementary school musical failures, I didn't sing with legitimate effort in a serious setting again.

It helped my rap career.

Until my senior year of high school.

My best friend and I had made a bet, and I lost. According to the stipulations of said bet, if I lost I had to audition to sing at our graduation, and I had to be serious about it. I had to go into the auditions making people—especially the judges—believe that I actually thought I was talented enough to sing at the ceremony. She got pretty excited and told as many people as she could that I was auditioning, and so I figured it wouldn't be that big of a deal but would instead be a funny memory I got to share with my friends.

False.

What I didn't know was that the auditions were in a private room with the choir teacher and all of the assistant principals.

Oh.good.gosh.

I was a goody-goody in high school, and I really didn't want to get in trouble for making a mockery of the privilege to sing at graduation, so I decided I was going to fake it as much as I could into making the APs and choir teacher think this was something I truly wanted. I suddenly regretted agreeing to the bet. It happens sometimes.

It really didn't help that I chose a song that wasn't so easy to sing: "At the Beginning" from the movie Anastasia. It's a duet by Richard Marx and Donna Lewis—you know, a male and a female. Oh, and there is one really high note in the song that makes my voice squeak every single time. It's also quite difficult to sing the parts for two different people, especially once their voices start overlapping each other's by the end of the song. But I sure attempted it.

When the song finally ended (I swear it was longer in that audition than any of the times I had practiced it in my car), the room fell completely silent. I'm sure they all wanted to laugh. Or cry for me. Or clean their ears. I just wanted to leave. I stood there awkwardly waiting for someone to say something. Anything. After what seemed like an eternity, one of the APs said, "Ok, thanks. We'll post results later."

Like I really needed to see them.

Obviously I didn't get the gig, and one of the APs later told me (in front of my entire English class) that "it would be a cold day in hades" before she ever let me have the mic at graduation. Talk about a boost of confidence. But, I'm glad I went through that ridiculous experience, because I really feel like it helped me grow as a person. Life is full of awkward moments, and it's certainly full of failures—and I got to experience both all at once. It made me realize that sometimes you can't escape things, and you just have to be bold. Who cares if people think you're bad at something? So what if you can't bring people to their feet in applause with your vocal aspirations? It was actually kind of fun singing at the top of my lungs to an audience of more than just my dashboard.

After all, it makes me smile to let that memory dance through my head when I unexpectedly hear the song come on the speakers at a grocery store. I even started to sing along. Some people around me gave me some odd looks, but that's alright.

Life is full of much more than we ever thought we'd face, so we might as well be bold every chance we get.

So belt it as loudly as you can, because Someone much bigger than a panel of judges thinks your voice is beautiful.

Real talk

While I really love technology, I sometimes miss the days when things weren't so impersonal.

Thank you, cell phones and social media.

Don't get me wrong—I love Facebook for many reasons. It's very useful in creating events and quick to get RSVPs, it's an effective way for the people in our running community to stay in touch with one another, and it's a great way to share your pictures with family and friends. All-in-all, it's so much easier to keep up with people you don't get to see on a daily basis.

But it's definitely not my favorite invention.

Just the other day, one of my students needed to get in touch with someone for a story she was working on for the newspaper. Rather than call or go in person to get the information she needed, she said, "Oh, I'll just tweet it to her." Really? It made me sad to hear that people don't really communicate as well as they used to.

There have been many times when I've gotten messages or comments on Facebook from friends and thought to myself, "I really miss our real conversations." I feel like friends I used to talk on the phone with more often now think Facebook is the answer to all means of catching up. I think that's fine if you're keeping in touch with acquaintances, but I think genuine friendships need face-to-face time or at least phone calls if that's not an option.

They don't need Facebook.

Everyone has a birthday, and it's always fun when people write you nice little things on your Facebook wall on your special day. But I think it is more meaningful when people actually pick up the phone and call you to give you those warm wishes, especially people close to you. Facebook is great for those impersonal relationships with people you probably don't hang out with often or ever, but it's not great for the people who matter more to you in life.

I even remember a couple of years ago, one of my good friends wrote on my Facebook wall to wish me a happy birthday. No call. No text. Nothing else. I'm not going to lie—I wasn't thrilled about that.

And, as much as I love texting, I think it's often a detriment to our society, as well—and not just for grammatical reasons.

My sister hates texting, and occasionally I'm in the same boat with her. It's wonderful at times—when you need to send someone a short note, when you're at work or somewhere where you can't have a full conversation with someone, or when you really don't want to talk a lot. However, there are many moments when it's simply better if you actually hit the call button. If texting is your only form of communication in any kind of relationship, it's likely not going to be a very strong one. People need to hear each other's voices; people need to spend time together; people need to make time for one another.

Besides, texting gives people way too much response time. You can't have quality conversations with that many pauses. It's not normal.

Obviously I'm not giving up texting or all social media. As I mentioned, I find Facebook to be very beneficial in certain regards, but I also think it's also an inimical form of "talking" to others. Instead of commenting on a friend's post to say, "Hope you're doing well," why not go sit for a bit over coffee and find out how that person is actually doing.

"LOL" and the "Like" button can only take you so far—it's good every once in a while to share some real laughs and love with people beyond the screen.