Let’s go back.

Before you left us. Before you thought that was the only way.

Let me tell you that girl didn’t matter in the big scheme of things.

Let me show you the beautiful blonde who will make you forget her and the four kids who will share your face.

Let me tell you that those bad grades will be forgotten.

Let me tell you that the fight with your parents will pass and that they love you relentlessly. And that they know you really don’t hate them despite what you said.

Let me tell you how handsome you are; and that the girl who said that about your body only said it to distract herself from how much she hates hers.

Let me tell you that not making that team opened the door to another hobby you will like even more.

Let me tell you that the trauma you experienced when you were 8 will not always define you.

Let me tell you that the bully that won’t leave you alone on social media will live a sad, measly life while you move onto bigger things.

Let me tell you that you are not alone in your depression and that the darkness can only fill you when you step out of the light. Let me show you the light.

Let me tell you all of the wonderful things your friends posted on your facebook wall about you.

Let me show you a map of all of the places you haven’t seen.

Let me show you how to breathe.

Let’s reverse this.

Let’s go back.

You were too young to know any better, but I have things to show you.

How do you know Jennifer Woodmansee?

I met her at Crossfit and decided on the day I met her that she was going to be my friend. It took some convincing and stalking, but she finally agreed to give me a trial run. That was 4 years ago. As long as I don’t violate the restraining order, we can remain friends.

What are her best qualities?

Her warmth,

Her eye color,

Her stubborn insistence on showing up on one’s doorstep when they’re sad and have told they don’t want her there,

Her ability to be in the moment,

Her laughter that sounds kind of like drunk bubbles,

Her hugs,

Her science…ness…ity,

Her ability to forgive,

and of course we can all agree, her butt, which is fantastic.

What are her biggest accomplishments?

Easy. Caden and Blaine.

What is your fondest memory of her?

Spending a few days together on a road trip to Minnesota in which Dr. Ackerman (<3) was finally going to cure her of her annoying habit of dying. My favorite parts were sitting around in comfortable, companionable silence and the side road trips in which we ate ungodly amounts of candy corn.

If Jen were an animal, what would it be?

A cat. Snuggly one minute, swishing her tail and scratching your eyes out the next. Hard to catch and even harder to get rid of once you feed it.

If she were a mythical creature?

Mermaid.

If she were an Olympic sport?

Curling. Cool, in an awkward, awkward way.

If she were a superhero?

She-Hulk

Team role in a zombie apocalypse?

Food supplies coordinator and bossing everyone around.

What’s her secret superpower?

Mind reading; it’s actually creepy. She also makes a mean elk boti-saag.

Favorite funny quote that reminds you of Jen?

“I love you like I love the smell of horse sweat. Just the thought calms me and makes me happy. Which most people find weird and repulsive but I think it’s the greatest thing on Earth.” – jaydubb

Favorite sappy quote that reminds you of Jen?

“So everyday I was surrounded by the beautiful calling forth the ideas of God, one of which was you.” – Mary Oliver

Hey Deb, here’s a beautiful sunrise!
…ugh…its snowy and icy again?

Here’s a funny text from a friend!
..I haven’t been a very good friend to them, lately…

You look so pretty today!
…lies…I’m at a terrible weight..he must be saying that to make me feel better.

Life has been trying to hand me unexpected moments of grace, lately. And I’ve been trying very hard to ignore them. I’ve found reasons to deny them, convinced myself they’re not good enough, and most importantly, decided I did not deserve them. It was like I had an anti-joy shield up; and I was in a death match, determined to ward off happiness. And the more I denied the graceful moments, the more I became convinced that I didn’t deserve them. But the grace kept coming at me.

Here’s the thing about grace: by definition, it is undeserved. It literally means to get something good (happiness, forgiveness, love) when you’re an ugly, grumpy mess and actually deserve quite the opposite of what it’s offering.

But here’s my problem: I like to earn things; I don’t want anything for free. I want to earn love, earn friendship, earn kindness, earn assistance. I don’t want to owe anything to anyone. I always want to be on the top end of every relationship- giving way more than I’m receiving.

But I’m beginning to realize that this isn’t necessarily because I’m humble and generous, although that’s certainly what I would like to be. Often, it’s a very fierce, and sometimes ugly pride rearing its head. It’s saying I don’t want to accept your love and help because I don’t want to be vulnerable. I don’t want to put myself in a position of needing something when I have nothing to offer you in return right now.

And frankly, it’s hypocritical, because I want people to accept my love and help, even if….especially if…they’re empty.

What happens is that this works for me a lot of the time. I’ve got a good life and I often find myself with an excess of time, of love, of affection, and of kindness and cheerfulness to give away. But when I don’t, it shoots me into a pretty viscious cycle of sadness, and I find myself alone, unwilling to put to my hand out for help. I have painted myself in a corner and can’t get out without swallowing my pride…and we all know that pride is the biggest, grittiest horse pill known to mankind.

But, as life tends to do, it ignored my feeble attempts and just kept shooting rays of unicorns and sunshine at me.

Random phone calls,

Silly dogs,

Complimentary coworkers,

Unconditional love,

Funny texts,

People who refused to let me look away.

And soon, I got tired of holding up that shield against the onslaught. I slowly began to lower it, and BAM! I was knocked flat on my ass by happiness. I laid down and just let the love wash over me until it cleansed me (almost drowned me) and cured me of my self-reliance.

For all of you stubborn people that had a hand in it, thank you. And for those of you who are having a hard time hearing this because you’re exhausting yourself holding up your own shield,

Try lowering it.

Just for a minute.

I’ve had the absolute pleasure of time- travel this week. I’m caring for my sister and sister-in-love’s two young children while they have a little getaway to NYC. These two mommies do a bang-up job of parenting and deserve a well-needed rest! I get to go back in time some 10-18 years and be in full time charge of babies again.

I didn’t realize how much I missed that baby smell and softness and squishyness. I write this as a love letter to my 5 month old nephew, who has reminded me of all that is wonderful and important and gorgeous on this earth.

If I had it to do all over again:

1. I would memorize the smell of a baby’s neck and hair. Just, YUM.

2. I would blow more raspberries on their bare tummies and make them laugh till they got the hiccups.

3. I would take them out of their cribs while they were still talking to themselves, and rock them in the nursery at the start of the day.

4.  I would let them nap on my chest, soaking in the heat they generate. All the chores can wait.

5.  I would giggle when they’re crying hysterically, because they’re actually adorable when purple with rage.

6. I would be excited when they wake early from a nap.

7. I would change their clothes 4 times in a single day because I couldn’t stand how cute they were. I would realize those clothes don’t fit for long.

8. I would pay attention in the grocery store to the way they squeal and wave their arms wildly in the produce section.

9. I would take a few more moments at bedtime to rock them and listen to them gurgle and chat. I would close my mind to the stack of dishes in the sink and open it to the sheer deliciousness of their cheek against my lips.

10. I would enjoy every little random noise and spastic movement and whine and squeak and squall, because soon enough, it will be gone and I won’t remember what it sounds or feels like.

I love my big, gorgeous, grown up daughters. I love how we can discuss politics and relationships and joke about inappropriate things. But, I miss their baby-ness. It seems like yesterday, and I HATE cliches. Enjoy those babies, mamas. You only get them once.

I cannot ignore her.

I wander outside at dawn, on a cool September morning,

and she is shimmering…undeniable in her presence,

rising above the

first orange and pink layers of sunrise,

resplendent.

She floats between

what is done,

and what is yet to be.

A half moon

lazily moves to her west,

wrapping up it’s work,

cool and plump and orbital;

but she is all sharpness and edges.

The heat and pressure

that make her uninhabitable

also make her the most beautiful,

blazing in intensity.

She is copper,

the mirror of the goddess:

both alluring and dangerous,

ravishing and perilous.

Look away, or worship her –

there is no way

to feel ambivalent.

She is celestial.

Unearthly, divinely feminine, heart-stopping.

She beautifies,

Intensifies,

Portends and challenges…

and then she dissolves

and merges with the

power of the sun

until I need her again.

I look at her and I awaken –

I have an instinct to burn

and radiate

and love.

A good horse. A good dog. A good pick up truck. Yep, that about sums up my contendedness today. Is happiness really that simple? Or is it elusive? Is happiness a trick question? An equation to be solved?

Because I’m really gifted at overthinking, some days l tend to complicate it. I treat it like a formula, something like:

(6Fa + 3Fr + 1N)2Fu /t = Magical unicorn happiness!

(6 family, 3 friend, 1 nature, times 2 feelings of fulfillment, divided by time…) Then, if some part of the formula is missing, I begin feeling like I’m not happy.

But, it’s when I’m not overthinking that I am truly, actually most joyful.

I was loading up my horse today, being followed by a great old dog, thinking about how much I love my Ford F-150. I was grinning, just loving life in that moment. Is everything perfect in my life? No. Do I have some things in which I feel unbalanced that I need to work on? Oh, for sure. But in that moment, I wasn’t thinking about those things. I was thinking about how I just loved the absolute shit out of what was in front of me.

I happened to pop into Instagram a bit later, and my wise friend Lisbeth Darsh had posted, “If it all were to end tonight on a slippery curve, what would you be angry with yourself for not doing? Go do that today.”

It’s true. Boiled down to its essence, happiness is about grabbing that thing right in front of you and being present enough in your own life to enough to enjoy it.

Don’t overthink it. Don’t complicate it.

I’ve got a damn good dog and a damn fine horse and a great truck.

Simply put, I’m happy.

It can be uncomfortable, the turning over of the heart’s hard soil… painful, even. After all, transformation almost always comes at some cost.

Consider the field; its soil resting, but also fallow all winter. It must be mechanically tilled to allow the nutrients to penetrate its depths and prepare for seed.

And the forest, which at first glance is thick and green, but upon further observation, has grown too dense to sustain itself, pests in too great a number. Nature knows that only fire will renew it and make way for new growth.

Even birth comes at a cost. It is never easy or comfortable for a new soul to enter the world. A caterpillar must liquify it’s own tissues to transform into a butterfly.

And so sometimes, a kind of harrowing of the human heart must occur. The soil has stopped producing, becoming hard with the cycles of frost. It has become barren and incapable of yielding a harvest.

Something begins to turn the soil. Maybe it’s a circumstance or a person. Maybe a situation out of ones control. Maybe the soul just gets tired of bruising its heels on the same hard, over-trodden ground.

A mechanical breakthrough begins.

The first few punches of the pickaxe are shocking. Painful. The eyes fly open in surprise and the heart wonders if change is worth the pain. Maybe it’s easier to stay hardened, tough.

But as the harrowing continues to overturn the soil, warmth begins to reach the deeper layers. Nutrients that sat at the top begin to filter into the depths, nourishing and renewing. Rain can seep through, softening and giving life.

Soon, there is a field in the heart prepared for planting new seed. It is raw; but now it can nourish new life, new opportunities, new challenges. A heart that is fallow can come to great fruitfulness.

What do you say 

when you have that one friend

who regularly dies

and then rises again?

Who smiles when it rains,

And rains when there’s sun,

And her work of being sparkly

is never quite done?

Who’s annoyingly competent

At everything she tries, 

And who’s laughter can brighten

the darkest of skies?

I look at her often

and think, “Sheesh! What a gal!”

Is it really real-life

that SHE’S my best pal?

She’s a Corporate Cowgirl,

A Zombie Superhero,

And I’m pretty sure, lately,

she wears a size zero.

She’s gorgeous, she’s bossy,

But I bet now you’ve guessed it,

I’m super darn happy

That Jaydubb’s my Bestest.

Fail.

I lean over, hands on my thighs trying to catch my breath and not freak out.

Try again.

Eyes forward, deep breath, quick hands, relax.

Fail.

Try again.

I glance up at the ceiling, close my eyes and release a stream of words that are highly undignified.

Try again.

Fail.

Compose myself. Try not to throw the jump rope across the room.

Try again.

Fail.

And that was just today. Don’t get me started on the snatch.

Why in the heck am I drawn to this sport? Three and a half years into Crossfit, I still experience deficiency, setbacks, and frustration that make me want to pull my hair out, almost every workout. Nothing about it is easy for me, yet I return over and over. What is it about Crossfit that makes me take a big breath and walk through the doors? This sport for which I have zero natural talent and which challenges me to the point of breaking?

First and foremost, it’s the people. In the words of Lis Darsh, they are my tribe. They are my best friends, mentors and coaches both inside and out of the gym. They encourage me when necessary and bitch-slap me when necessary. They’ve given me the best three years of my life and stuck with me through every up and down without fail.

But, on a more personal level, there’s something about taking on difficult challenges that fuels me with strength in my life outside of the gym. What do we gain from daring to pursue challenges in which we are not guaranteed to succeed?

For me, it boils down to three things:

1. Growth. Napoleon Hill said, “Strength and growth come only through continuous effort and struggle.” If I’m honest with myself, and not being too critical, I can look back at what I could do three years ago and see a tremendous change. I may not be able to complete all of the lifts or excel at the skills at the level that I desire, but I have come a looooong way. The only way to get here was through struggle and challenge. Crossfit has taught me that immediate success is not always guaranteed, but is built over the long-term through daily hard work.
2. Becoming less risk-averse and conquering perfectionism. I am an eldest child. I have lived my entire life avoiding risk that wasn’t calculated; and therefore, rejecting any opportunities that came my way in which I wasn’t sure of victory. I’m new to the “jump in with both feet” mentality, but it’s what I’ve been waiting for my whole life. Crossfit has pushed me to dive boldly into new adventure, whether or not I have a guaranteed outcome. I don’t always know if I will hit that clean and jerk, but I know that I most definitely won’t succeed if I don’t throw my entire body and mind under the weight. This mentality has served me well in my family, my horsemanship, and my relationships, and in my desire to try new things.
3. Tapping into unknown strength. In the culture in which I grew up, women were not supposed to be smart and strong. They were supposed to be subservient and quiet (thank goodness my mom wasn’t…she never could quite manage that life!). Crossfit has forced me to dig deep and find reserves of strength in body, mind and spirit that I didn’t know existed. In my gym, you don’t get a free ride by acting like a sissy. In fact, that will probably cause the coach’s sympathy to decrease and the work-load to increase. Early on, my coach Sam told me to pull my testicles out of my purse (charming, I know). I’ve never forgotten this. In many areas of my life, I was backing off when the going got tough. Wimping out. Passing blame. By forcing myself to stare at the barbell, knowing the only way it was getting lifted was if I did it, I learned to find tenacity and toughness inside myself. This has probably been the most life-changing lesson I’ve learned.

Crossfit isn’t for everyone; I get that. In fact, I probably lost half of my readership the second I brought it up. But there is something to be said for taking on a task or hobby that we find impossible, setting our hearts on the journey, and getting gritty with our methods. There’s a challenge out there for all of us, if we have the courage to open our eyes and look.

That jump rope will haunt me until I’m in a walker and can’t try anymore. But the strength and growth that comes from trying will stay with me as well, and that’s a price I’m more than willing to pay.

Life is a flurry of motion and activity with 1 preteen and 3 teenage girls: volleyball practice, musical theatre, doctor’s appointments, school, dance, dinners, homework, making lunches, stories about boyfriends, stories about mean girls, barking dogs chasing cats, singing, dance parties, sleepovers… and then, just last night, all was quiet. Crypt-quiet. A few kids were off at their evening activities, others in their rooms studying.

I stood in the kitchen, stunned and alone. I realized that this flurry of motion is reaching its critical mass, soon to be gone forever.

When they were all tiny (and I happened to be homeschooling), the days wore on and the months seemed never-ending and the years seemed endless. I didn’t mind it; in fact, I loved being surrounded by the love and chaos that I naively assumed would last to my dying days.

Then, just this month, shit began to get real. I ordered graduation announcements for one. College recruiters are constantly after another, and she just created her senior schedule. Yet another is planning to be gone this summer at theatre camp in Nebraska…and doesn’t need my help arranging it. The “baby” is whispering on her cell phone and giggling about boys.

I watched some young moms today at the gym rushing around after their toddlers; some of these toddlers had managed to strip down to their underwear, others  were trailing 85 crackers behind them. I remember, viscerally, the frustration and never-ending neediness of having babies. I thought it would never end.

Then, I blinked. And it’s ending.

I’m going to put away all that is not necessary, for now. The wisp of time that these girls are with me is going to be gone in an instant. I grieve this. I rejoice in this. I can’t wait to see what the future holds, but I’m not going to let it rob me of the present.

This moment, with them arguing with each other around the dinner table, is mine…and I will store it like treasure in my heart.