Do you know how many times I’ve said, “Are you kidding? I can’t WAIT until these kids are all out of the house! The cooking, the cleaning, the sassing? I won’t miss it at all!”
Approximately 7,476 times.
Do you know how many times I’ve been a liar, liar, pants on fire?
Approximately 7,476 times.
I’m guilty of turning aside, afraid of offending, afraid of being wrong, afraid of rocking the boat. But recent events in America have me thinking about my silence and the excuses I have said to myself, or heard others say. I asked some wise folks, living and dead, what they had to say about justice, peace, and getting involved in the fray.
I’ll wait until it affects my family.
“The ends you serve that are selfish will take you no further than yourself but the ends you serve that are for all, in common, will take you into eternity.”
― Marcus Garvey
I’ll wait until it affects my bank account.
“The opposite of poverty is not wealth. In too many places, the opposite of poverty is justice.”
― Bryan Stevenson
Have you ever looked at a photo of yourself, having the time of your life, and you forget all about the day and zero in on all of your body flaws? Yeah, me neither. 
Like, I didn’t even notice the flabby belly, the squishy thighs, the too large shoulders, the chunky bum, or the farmer’s tan, you guys.
Here’s a tale of competing voices – which one will win? Which one do I want to win?
Wow, I have the shoulders of a football player. Why do my traps grow so fast when I lift?
I just put 75 pounds over my head! FEAR THESE TRAPS, FOLKS.
Let’s be real: I was never going to go to the Crossfit Games. I was a sliding-into-her-40s stay-at-home mom who was looking for something to help keep the weight off. It’s not Crossfit’s fault that I fell head over heels in love with something I could never be good at. It’s not Crossfit’s fault that I got serious about something I should have taken lightly, or pushed myself past what my body wanted, or hated myself for not being able to master double-unders.
I always giggle and get a little searing pain in my heart when I read the Anne Lamott quote, “I’m not one of those Christians who is heavily into forgiveness,” and that if she could, she would write a book called All the People I Still Hate: A Christian Perspective. I giggle because it’s damn funny, brilliant writing; and I have that little searing pain in my heart because it hits way too close to home.
For someone who has a reputation of being generous and kind (at least that’s what I’m told), I have the ability to hold and nurse grudges as only a Taurus can. And what’s so flipping frustrating is that long after I think I’ve let something go, after I’ve been reminded how many times mercy has been shown to me, that grudge will rear its head at the least opportune time and flatten me. It pulls me down a rabbit hole and I’m crying and reaching for the edge to pull myself out, but it feels fruitless to fight the hurt.
“Ugh, what is this? An AA meeting?”
She rolled in with a bravado that belied the tiny little body she inhabited. She came out swinging with an I’ll-hit-you-before-you-hit-me mouth and body language that was sharp and biting and clearly not interested in what we had to say. Read more…
I’m not gonna lie. I still turn heads. Now, the average age of those who turn their heads to look at me has increased dramatically. It used to be 30 year olds; now it’s the 65-70 year olds at the gym who smile and try to make eye contact with me. I’m pretty sure that in 5 years, the only ones turning their heads will have one foot in the grave.
It took me about a week to pull the trigger. All week, I have wanted to eat at the Pizza Hut lunch buffet. Not because I particularly like it, in all of its greasy, over-salted glory; but because I remembered being a kid and thinking it was the greatest treat on earth. I was feeling nostalgic. Read more…
Growing up, the maternal side of my family was evangelical, fundamental Baptist and the paternal side of my family was Roman Catholic. So, to say I have guilt and debt embedded in my DNA is an understatement.
My parents, who were very young, were doing their best to protect their daughters from evil: namely, sex, drugs, rock and roll and, you know, the fiery burning pits of hell. I don’t blame them for having our butts in the church seats 4 times a week. Organized religion is a terrifying, responsibility-laden way to bring up children.
In a moment of frustration, she smiles a winning smile and puts her arms around a teen with Down’s Syndrome.
He cheerfully discusses rodeo days with a 90 year old man with Alzheimer’s.
She shows up every day to teach the kindergarteners in one of the poorest school districts in New Mexico.
He grins and says he can’t believe he gets paid to drive a fire engine.
She rescues and trains donkeys, sacrificing her own personal financial comfort.
He risks his life multiple times a week on the night shift as a cop in the war zone in Albuquerque.
She works on Sundays to help victims of sexual abuse or kids who have lost a parent.
He works countless hours to take care of his extended family’s financial needs.
She believes art heals and and makes you grow and commutes to Wyoming to make sure kids believe the same.
She inspires thousands to get off the couch, pick up a barbell and win at life with her writing.
In just 5 minutes, I thought of 10 heroes of whom I have mad respect; heroes who will never get any press because it’s only sexy to report what’s bad, what’s wrong. I could probably think of a hundred more without much effort.
Who is your hero? Do they know you think so?