The Best Advice

They Have To Clean The Bathroom Too

"The danger comes when you look around and see everyone else's best and think it's their always."  ~Unknown (some blogger, I'm pretty sure, but I didn't write down who said it!)

Sometimes, I catch myself thinking about what life would be like had I made different decisions.  Usually it is on a lazy Saturday when I am doing something horrendously ordinary, like cleaning the bathroom, that my mind wonders what might have been.

Had I gone to law school on the East Coast as was the original plan, until I woke up one day in late April and cancelled said plans and made new ones, all by noon.  I picture a quiet little townhouse in Georgetown and days spent wondering the neighborhood and running amongst the monuments.

Korean War Memorial - Washington, DC - 2011

Of course, I think of my beautiful little apartment overlooking the Bay in San Francisco.  With Saturdays full of trolley rides and Farmers Markets and weekend getaways to Napa.



Alamo Square Park - San Francisco - 2011

I think of a tiny village in Switzerland that stole my heart the first time I set foot on its ground.  The one with breathtaking views and bike trails and Coupe Denmark for dessert.

Cully, Switzerland - 2009

It's easy to get caught up in the what might have beens...so think about how life would be different and more glamorous and well, just more.

But then I realize, all of those people who made those choices that I did not?  They have to clean the bathroom too.  Because life is not always the grand adventure that we picture in our heads.  Because the paths untaken are not full of only fun in the sun and beautiful views.  It's true whether you are in a little town in Texas or a big city by the ocean.

And it does me good to remember that sometimes.

You Can Choose...

Different Paths

"Don't question the story God is writing for you and don't discount the story that he is writing for your neighbor."

One of my biggest frustrations is when people are critical of the decisions that another person makes in his or her own life.  People who married young are critical of those who waited.  Those who waited are critical of the girls who had babies at 20.  Women who decide to work outside of the home are seen as bad mothers by those who stay home with the kids; and the stay at home mom is seen as a sell out by those women with the corner office.  And from what I hear and read the whole "to breast feed or not to breast feed" is even worse.

I've seen this countless times.  I had a friend who was an attorney at a high powered law firm who was terrified to tell the firm that she and her husband were expecting their first child because she was afraid she would be looked down on for wanting to be a mother.  I've gone home to sorrowful looks and puzzled expressions when I've had to answer the "Are you married yet" question yet again with a "No, I've been busy with law school."  I've watched my friends with babies feel unworthy or inadequate or incapable because they have not raised their baby in accordance with whatever the book of the moment suggests.

I think that sometimes, maybe most of the time, the reason that we discount other people's stories is simply because we don't understand them.  Because they are different than our own.  Because the other person chose to have a different path and different priorities and different dreams.  And because these things are different, we somehow make the determination that they are less important or less worthwhile or less "right."

But in the end, is not for us to understand the path of another.  Their path is just that...theirs.  And regardless of what that path looks like, or how different that path is from our own, it is theirs to take.

In the end, every person is worth while.  Each story is important.  Every person matters.  Each life is meaningful.

To Do List

I got this little reminder from my very favorite assistant earlier this week and wanted to share.

 



 

Glory Days

Yesterday I was reading through some old blogs written by Courtney at Vintch.  She's one of my absolute favorite bloggers and I swear she's the best writer on the internet.

Anyway, I stumbled across this old blog post titled Glory Days.

"Maybe these are my glory days, and I'm not even realizing it.  Because they don't involve my own home.  They don't involve babies.  They don't involve the perfect career.  They don't involve a master's degree {yet}. They don't involve a cure for my stutter.

But that's okay.

Because these are my glory days and I refuse to let another precious one slip by without grasping it.  Holding onto it and relishing it.  One day these days will only be a memory."

What powerful words.  It's so easy to get caught up in the looking forward.  In the waiting game.  In the comparisons to other people's lives.  And when we do that, we forget to live our now...our glory days.

We spend so much time waiting for our lives to start....I mean really  start.  We wait until we graduate.  Until we have a job.  Until we have a better job.  Until we own a house.  Until we find a boyfriend.  Until we live in the same area code with said boyfriend (oh wait...that's just me.)  Until we have a ring on our finger.  Until we wear a white dress and dance under the stars.  Until we have sleepless nights and a crying little one.  Until the crying little one is in school.....

And if we're not careful, we'll wake up one day and realize that we've been so busy waiting for life to start, that we've missed it.  That we've missed the glory days because they were dressed up like regular ones and we were too dumb to notice.

We'll miss sunsets and birthday cards and smiles from strangers.  We'll miss the chance to travel and the chance to sleep in and the chance to try something new.  We'll overlook kind words and laughing until our stomachs hurt and the goodness of fresh cookies out of the oven. 

I think that we would see these everyday moments as the glory days if we would just stop, quit looking forward, and appreciate the now.

She Loved Life...

I Choose...

Comparing Chapters

I read this quote last week and thought, "That's exactly right!  I totally do that!"  I constantly refer to it as "getting lapped."  When my friends get married and my ring finger remains empty, that's a lap.  When those friends then have babies, that's a lap.  When they have second babies, there's another.  Some of my friends are like a darn mile ahead of me right now!  It feels like some Kenyan world-record setting marathoner and I'm a chubby girl still chugging along the first curve of the track.

But you know, that's just not the right way for me to look at things. Because sometimes we're on different chapters.  Heck, sometimes were in different books.  But if everyone does their thing and everyone else supports them, well then we all get to the end of the story. 

What Might Have Been

"I try not to think about what might have been, 'cause that was then, and we have taken different roads..."  ~Little Texas

This was pre-blog time, which means that everyone on the internet didn't know my business, but back in the good ol' days, I got accepted to law school at the University of Notre Dame.  An Irish fan from the time I was a little kid (I was probably the only 6 year old in New Mexico to have a ND pennant hanging on my bedroom wall), I couldn't have been more excited.  But then the other shoe kinda dropped when I found out that Notre Dame would be the only school that I applied to that wasn't going to offer me a scholarship.  At all.  Zero.  Zilch.  Nada.  None.  And so after putting the pencil to the paper a little bit, I realized that my dream of attending Our Lady's University was not in the cards for me.  (I also turned down UNM and had all my plans in place to attend William and Mary before waking up one morning and deciding that wasn't happening anymore....but that's another blog for another day.)

Last weekend while I was in South Bend to watch Notre Dame take on Michigan State, I got a quick tour of the law school from one of Mr. FFA's friends.  Y'all.  It was amazing.  Beautiful.  Breathtaking.  The huge library.  The study areas overlooking the quads or the football stadium.  The tiny chapel where Mass is said once a week.

Notre Dame Law School Library

I left the law school and couldn't help but wonder what my life would look like had I gone there.  What might have been? 

But the truth is, I don't regret the decision that I made.  Because had I gone to Notre Dame, some great things would never have happened.  I never would have introduced College Roomie to McCain and gotten to talk all about it in a Maid of Honor speech at their wedding.  I would have probably missed working with some absolutely great people at my first job.  I would have missed out on making the great friendships that I did while I was at UNM, including people like Brett-Brett and Top Gun and and Law School Partner and a whole list more.  I wouldn't have been in Albuquerque to visit First Valentine for what turned out to be the last time or to witness the birth of my precious Goddaughter (as traumatic as that experience was).  I wouldn't have been at a football game in Oklahoma to meet The Boy from Texas.  I might not have known the true value of my law degree.

Had I gone to Notre Dame, my life would have been different.  I would have met different people and had different experiences and probably would be doing a different job in a different place.  Would it have been better?  Who knows.

What I do know is that it's hard to regret the "might have been" when the real life is so darn good.

Family Farm Friday #84: He Waited a Long Time

"It's hard to beat a person who never gives up."  ~Babe Ruth

I have to admit, after the success our lambs had last year at the New Mexico State Fair, I was a little worried that this year would be a major let down.  But because I have done this every year for the last 18, I loaded up my bags and headed to Albuquerque last weekend for the fair.  And it couldn't have been better.

I spent four days at the fair in a barn full of dust and animals and some of the best people in the world.  I ate a lot of burritos and had green chile on just about every meal.  I was given free stocks in Mr. Graham's latest scheme.  And I got more hugs in those four days than I'll probably get for the rest of the year.

And the shows?  Well, they went awesome.  Like, real awesome.

First up was the New Mexico Bred Steer Show. We just had one calf showing, but he won his class!  Yay!  We're not just sheep people, turns out!

And then it was the sheep show day.  Which also happened to be my dad's birthday.  He said for his birthday he really wanted a breed champion and another class winner.  Well, he got his wish.  And then some.  Three class winners, two Reserve Breed Champions, and Champion Finewool Cross. 

Dad spent his birthday high fiving moms and kids, answering "Who raised that lamb?" proudly with "We did!"  He teared up when encouraging a little boy from our hometown who got beat, but did the best job showing that he'd ever done.  And he spent the entire next day working on getting a website up and running to share the photos and the news. 

But my favorite moment of the week happened after the show.  My dad--the one who you can hardly get to look at a camera and pay attention--took three photos in a row in the sheep show version of the winner's circle and smiled bigger than I might have ever seen.  When the first picture was over and the photographer (not realizing we had won three breed or reserve breed champions) tried to shuffle my dad out of the photo backdrop, my dad told him, "I've waited a long time for this and I'm going to be here a while."  And he was, for three photos in a row.

Champion Finewool Cross

Reserve Champion Finewool Cross

Reserve Champion Finewool

You better believe that my dad deserved his time and three pictures in front of that banner.  Because there was a lot of hard work that went into that.  Generations of hard work, actually.  My grandparents started it all over 60 years ago when they bought our farm and our first ewes.  Then my grandma ignored everyone who told her to sell out when my grandpa died and left my grandma with two teenage boys and a farm to run.  Instead, they worked harder.  They sacrificed.  And they kept on going.  There were hours spent at the barn.  Hot days of sorting ewes.  Pulling lambs in freezing cold blizzards.  Early mornings of getting up to cut hay and late nights fighting with the bailer that is always broken.  Trips to Iowa to find a ram.  Sleepless nights before our show lamb sale.  Dead rams and prolapsed ewes and lambs that just didn't turn out.  My dad waited a long time for Tuesday and I am here to tell you, there's no one who deserved it more than him.

10 Ways To Be Happy

via Pinterest

All That Crap

“Never concede to evil…. When we concede to evil, even in a small way, we feed it, and it grows stronger.”  ~Dave Wolverton, The Courtship of Princess Leia

 

I'm boycotting the VMA, Miley Cyrus, twerking, all that crap that's going on around it.  It makes me tired.  And sad.  And offended.  And angry.  On lots of different levels and at lots of different people.  And I feel like we just play into all the madness when we continue talking about it and posting pictures of it.  The world, our culture, our values, kinda suck.

 

But then last week someone on Facebook shared this letter that a dad wrote to his son.  And I couldn't help but think that THIS is how we should be dealing with these type of situations.  This is how we can overcome the sucky culture that we live in where these things happen.  By teaching our kids that these things are not acceptable.  That they are not cool or expected or manly or okay.  And that if our children do them, we'll "kick their butt up and down the street."  If we could do that successfully, maybe the next generation could fix some of the problems that ours has created.

 

No, I don't have a son, but SuperMom does, and he's too cute not to
be featured on multiple blogs multiple days out of the week.

 

Anyway, enough of my soap box.  Here is my favorite part of the letter.

 

 

"Listen, son, don’t let the world tell you how to be a man. They don’t know anything about the subject.

Men are loyal. Men are honest. Men respect and honor women. A man goes out and finds one woman, and he vows to protect and love her for the rest of his life. A man would never betray that vow. Even the weakest and most cowardly man — if he is a man at all — would die for the woman he loves. Your dad is no hero, but let someone try to hurt your mom and watch him suddenly turn into Superman (or Batman, whichever you prefer).

See, son, you don’t have to be big and strong to be a man, although I think you will be one day. You don’t have to be “cool” or athletic. You don’t have to play guitar or fix cars. These are all fine things, but they don’t define a man. ...

A man is defined by how he treats women, by how he keeps his promises, and by how he protects and serves the ones he loves. That’s what makes a man a man. My dad taught me that, he taught it by example. I pray I can do the same for you.

Oh, and by the way, if I ever catch you disrespecting women, I will sit you down and talk to you about it. But first I’ll kick your butt up and down the street. That’s a promise."

The True Value of My Law Degree (in the form of me on a soapbox)

Yesterday, I read an interesting blog post written by an Ivy League educated woman who is now a stay-at-home mother.  She talks about how being a stay at home mom is valued less by academia than other post-college endeavors.  She quotes a writer who said, "Any Harvard Law School degree obtained by a woman who then chooses not to use it in any sort of professional capacity throughout most of her life is a wasted opportunity.  That degree could have gone to a woman who does want to spend her entire life using it to advance the cause of women -- or others in need of advancement -- not simply advancing the lives of her own family at home, which is a noble cause, but not one requiring an elite degree."

[Just to make where I am coming from clear.  I am an un-married, nearly 30, childless woman with a law degree.  I am not now, nor do I really ever see myself being a stay-at-home mom.  I have many friends who are just that, and I have the utmost respect for them.  I have many friends who are working moms and was raised in a family of just about all working women.  I have the utmost respect for them.  And there is not much I hate more than women judging the choices of other women.  Knowing all of that about me, let's continue.]

This article got me thinking. And for me, it came down to the following questions: What did I really get from my law degree?  What was the benefit of those three years of my life?

If the answer to that question is that what I got was the ability to research legal issues and to pass the bar and to get a job in an ivory tower, then maybe the writer would be correct that a law degree was a waste for me if I were to become a stay at home mom.  (Note I said maybe....I still think she's wrong, for the record.)

But as I thought back on the three years of my life that were spent in law school, I came up with two lessons that I think make up the true value of my law degree.  Fortunately for me, what I got from law school was so much more than learning the elements of a contract or the Rule Against Perpetuities or knowing how to cite a law review article in proper Blue Book format.  I learned to respect people with different beliefs and values and learned to believe in myself.  Maybe they didn't teach those things at Harvard, but they surely did at the University of New Mexico.

I learned to respect--and to love--people with different beliefs and values.  In law school, I met my first friend--now one of my very best friends--who was Jewish and my first friend who was Atheist and my first friend who was Muslim.  I went to a Hanukkah party and sat Shiva after a Jewish funeral and stood up as a bridesmaid in a wedding under a chuppah.  I made friends with political views that are absolutely polar opposite from my own.  I made friends from different countries and different races and from completely different backgrounds than my own.  And you know what?  The people who I met are amazingly smart and kind and passionate.  They are generous and giving and trying to make the world a better place.  They fight for the poor and against injustice and promote peace.  I love them all.  I don't care if we don't see eye to eye on an issue or if we pray to different Gods or if we never vote for the same presidential candidate.  I learned that people are people, and that good people are good people.  Is that lesson any less relevant for someone who is a stay at home mom?  Absolutely not.  In fact, perhaps it is more relevant for someone who is instilling beliefs and values into the next generation.

In three years of working my butt off to do well, also I learned to believe in myself.  My first semester, I spent most of my time in a panic.  Worried that I was not smart enough.  I was not good enough.  I could not work hard enough.  I knew that when grades came out in January, I would probably fail, lose my scholarship, and have to figure out a new plan for my life.  I was so worried, in fact, that the day we were handed the sheet of paper with grades on them, I left the building to open mine because I was so certain the news would be bad.  But it wasn't.  And at that point, law school taught me to believe in myself.  To believe in my abilities.  To believe that I was as worthy to be there as all of the brilliant people sitting next to me.  That led me to apply for a job in San Francisco that was way out of my league, which led to the best summer of my life.  That led me to a great 4 years at a law firm in Albuquerque where even more important that the great legal experience I got, I met some of the smartest people I know.  That led me to apply for my dream job that landed me in Texas this June.  Is it any less important for a stay-at-home mom to believe in herself or her abilities than it is for a lawyer at a white-shoe law firm in a big city to do so?  Clearly, the answer has to be no.

In the end, my point is this.  Someday, if I were to decide to stay home and raise babies, would my law degree be wasted on me rather than some high powered litigator?  Would it have been a waste of my time to learn to respect other people and to learn to believe in myself?  Not hardly.  And we should never do anything to discourage women--our sisters and friends and daughters--from furthering their education.  What the world needs is more intelligent, caring, understanding, passionate women.  Whether they be in high powered offices or at home changing diapers.

What I'm Loving Wednesday

This last week I've stumbled across a ton of blogs and quotes that I really enjoyed.  I figured I'd share today!

1.  This blog that includes a letter from a mom to her third grade son.  If we would all just do as this mama advises, the world would be so much better.  Here is my favorite part:

We do not care if you are the smartest or fastest or coolest or funniest. There will be lots of contests at school, and we don't care if you win a single one of them. We don't care if you get straight As. We don't care if the girls think you're cute or whether you're picked first or last for kickball at recess. We don't care if you are your teacher's favorite or not. We don't care if you have the best clothes or most Pokemon cards or coolest gadgets. We just don't care.

We don't send you to school to become the best at anything at all. We already love you as much as we possibly could. You do not have to earn our love or pride and you can't lose it. That's done.
We send you to school to practice being brave and kind.

Kind people are brave people. Brave is not a feeling that you should wait for. It is a decision. It is a decision that compassion is more important than fear, than fitting in, than following the crowd.

2.  This quote:  “You are the average of the five people you spend the most time with.” - Jim Rohn  I'm a firm believer in this.  When you surround yourself with good people, you become better.  If you have people around you who are negative or who pull you down, you're going to become more and more like them.  Find the good ones!

3.  This blog by Miss Rachel.  She compares her attitude about wanting a husband and a white picket fence and a fairy tale ending now--right now--to a little kid throwing a crying, kicking, screaming fit in the grocery store.  And if I'm honest, I too often act just like that little kid squirming around on the floor.  I want things now.  Answers.  Open doors.  Easy paths.  It's hard to remember that we have to trust in Him.  Which includes trusting in His timing.

4.  This blog that contains advice to college students.  I am absolutely in love with the following quote:  "I know nothing. But here’s the truth - none of us do. So at some point we must make a leap of faith. We leap anytime we make a decision. We leap when we choose to enter into a relationship, we leap when we pick a college, we leap when we get out of bed in the morning. We are not guaranteed an ending but we weigh the odds, we take our chances, and we leap. My only advice to you is to leap towards love. When I have done so I have found I tend to land in good places."

5.  .  This video of a speech given by Ashton Kutcher.   "The sexiest things in the world is being really smart and being thoughtful and being generous. Everything else is crap. It's just crap that people try to sell to you to make you feel like less. So don't buy it."

My Biggest Regrets

"My heartfelt wish for you: as you get older, your self will diminish and you will grow in love.  YOU will gradually be replaced by LOVE."  ~George Saunders

Earlier this week, I read a graduation speech given to graduates by George Saunders.  You have to go and read it here.  It's long, but it's good.  Here is his point:  "What I regret most in my life are failures of kindness." 

Um....yep.  This girl.  Guilty.  Ditto.  Me too.

I do not regret the times I made mistakes.  Or the times I fell for the wrong boy.  I don't regret getting on the wrong bus in Baltimore or almost drowning in a river in Costa Rica or getting sick after rushing the field in the pouring rain.  I don't regret the year I spent at a college I really kinda hated.  I don't even regret the time I had to be on crutches for two weeks after crashing my dad's truck into the swing set.  (Okay, maybe I regret that last one a little...)

The things I look back on and really regret, you know that knot-in-your-stomach feeling regret, are the times I was unkind.  The time I made a joke at someone else's expense.  The time I avoided sitting with a certain person at a lunch table.  The time I snipped something hateful.  I think back on those moments and can still vividly remember them years later.  What the room looked like.  My unkind words.  The faces of the recipient of my words.  These memories, which are apparently permanently etched into my memory, make my heart ache.

Be kind.  It's so simple.

It costs nothing.  I don't have to buy equipment or a uniform or new shoes to do it right. 

I know how to do it.  I don't need to watch a webinar or Google the steps. 

I have chances to do it every day.  With every single person with whom I come in contact.

I have no excuse for the unkind moments I regret.  None at all.

And so like Mr. Saunders wished the graduates, my wish for you and me is that as we get older is two-fold.  That our self will diminish and be replaced by love, and that we live our lives with no more kindness failures. 

Here's to no more regrets.

FOMO

"I still find each day too short for all the thoughts I want to think, all the walks I want to take, all the books I want to read, and all the friends I want to see." ~John Burroughs

Last week, I had lunch with a friend of a friend who I just met.  Within 15 minutes, she said to me, "Oh, you have FOMO.  It's a disease.  I have it too."  And like that, I was diagnosed.  I'm am lifelong sufferer.  As far back as I can remember, I've had this problem.

What is FOMO, you ask?  Well, the full name is Fear Of Missing Out.  I can't stand the idea that something fun could happen and I might miss it.

It's the reason that I do things like take two months off of life and gallivant around Eastern Europe.  And spend way too much money on last minute flights for birthday water skiing trips.  It's why I hate missing weddings or concerts or girls' weekends.  Why I spend every winter on the side of a mountain with the same crazy people.  The reason I run half marathons and have 30 by 30 lists and love singing karaoke.  The reason I spend a ridiculously large amount of my disposable income going places like Stillwater, Oklahoma and South Bend, Indiana.  It's what motivated me to jump off a 9 foot wall onto a football field and off a Tarzan platform in a jungle in Costa Rica.  It's why I go to birthday parties and engagement dinners. 

There are a few side effects, like a depleted bank account and running off of entirely too little sleep pretty much all the time.  And I'm pretty sure there is no cure.  But it's the opposite of fatal.  Because instead of killing me, it's making me live.  And I have to admit, I am enjoying every minute!

Believing 1+1 Can Equal 5

"When God blesses, I cannot complain that the details are not as I would have planned."  ~Katy at Whatever is Lovely

Things are fixin to get deep, kids. 

I absolutely love the above quote about taking and appreciating God's blessings when He gives them, and not complaining about the details.  I've been having to remind myself of this lately.  I got an amazing job opportunity, but it's a long way from home in a town where I know hardly anyone, and where the humidity is like 157% all the darn time.  I meet The Boy from Texas, and then immediately move 8.5 hours away for said job and only get to see him twice a month.  I buy a great house, but now have to learn to deal with things like oven fires and toilet floods and little ants in the cabinet and mowing the lawn.

While I appreciate the blessings (and I really, really do), I whine and worry and complain about the details.  And I know that is ridiculous.  But they're not ideal, those darn details.  Along these lines, I can't tell you how many times I've made the statement related to The Boy from Texas that I just don't see how "the math" can work out for us.  Meaning that I do not understand logistically how us dating while living on opposite ends of the second largest state in America and both having jobs we really like can work.

The other morning I was out on a run with one of the girls who works in my department (can I mention that a 3.5 mile run at 5:30 in the morning should not leave you feeling like you just did hot yoga....HOW is it this hot all the time???) and I told her my math conundrum.  She said that during a Bible Study she did last year, she read something about that very issue.

She said that we expect 1+1=2.  We understand how that works.  We are not thankful for surprised or anything when that is the result, because that's just math.  We don't need to have any faith or help from God to get that answer. 

But God can make  1+1=5.  And in that situation, when things work that never should, when amazing things happen that we couldn't imagine, we realize that it's God at work.  We are forced to have faith that somehow, despite what we know from the calculator, the answer can be 5. 

And what's more, God uses these situations for good.  They strengthen our faith.  They draw us closer to Him.  They teach us patience (which has to be my least favorite subject ever next to calculus!).  So instead of complaining and trying to figure all of this out on a calculator and beating my head against the wall, I'm trying to sit back, enjoy the blessings, and see what God can do with the math.  Because maybe the answer is 5 even though I don't understand it right now.  Maybe my job is not to understand, my job is just to believe.



via Pinterest

But I do think am going to have to figure out how to get rid of these little ants in the cabinet on my own....

Eastern European Adventure Part X: No Idea

"The one who does not remember history is bound to live through it again."  ~George Santayana

In case you missed my first post on Auschwitz yesterday, click here.

My words cannot do Auschwitz justice.  Nothing I can say can let you experience the feeling of standing on that ground.  Nothing I can say can give you even a glimpse of what the prisoners suffered.   I have no idea of the suffering and horror that went on within those walls.  My own blog posts make the incredibly clear.

I complained about having to pay to use the restroom on my trip across Europe.  They were faced with group "toilets" that spread deadly diseases through the camp.

I whined about carrying my pack across the Charles Bridge in Prague.  They packed up their belongings and lugged them across countries, trusting that they were merely being "relocated."

I pouted when I had to sleep on an uncomfortable bed in a furnished apartment.  They slept on wood, straw, or the hard cement floor.

I hobbled around when my cute nude flats did not provide enough support for my feet.  At Auschwitz, I saw rooms full of shoes that were removed prior to entering a "shower" never to be worn again.

I have never been more excited to take a shower after riding on an overnight train from Prague to Vienna.  I imagine many of them felt the same way when they were sent to the gas chambers after their long train rides.

I felt lost when I was not able to talk to my parents, email my girlfriends, or text The Boy from Texas every day.  They had their entire families torn apart forever on train platforms when men went to the right into the camps and women and children went to the left into the gas chambers.

I joked about my inability to say no to dessert and the fact that I was gaining weight.  They were literally starving to death.

I didn't think twice when I waived at little boys wearing Yamakas playing in the street in Budapest, or when I went to sit shiva with my friend and his family when Bapa died.  These things would have condemned them to death.

Clearly, my words would be inadequate given my complete lack of understanding for what happened 60 years ago.  What I can tell you, however, is that what was most moving to me--the thing that I felt in my heart--was that I am no different from the people who were killed here.  I was struck over and over by how much I was like them.  I saw it when I read the professions of the prisoners:  professors, lawyers, teachers, farmers, mechanics.  There were girls who looked to be my age, with round faces and blue eyes who were torn from their families, dressed in striped clothing, and killed.  There were baby booties--exactly the same as those my mom has saved in her house that I used to wear on my ownfeet--in a glass case in memory of the innocent babies whose lives were taken for no reason.

I have no idea of the suffering that these people went through.  And maybe that is exactly the point of visiting Auschwitz-Birkenau.  To realize that we do not know their suffering, and to remind us we must do whatever we can to ensure no one else ever does again.

May that ever be our prayer.  And may their souls ever rest in peace.

*Linking up with Thankful Thursday.

If Runners Ran The World...

"If we cannot end now our differences, at least we can help make the world safe for diversity."  ~John F. Kennedy

As you read about previously, two weeks ago I was in Oklahoma City running a half marathon.  As I stood there that dark, early, cold morning along with 25,000 other runners and thousands of spectators, I couldn't help but think that if runners ran the world, it might just be a better place.

LOKG and me at the starting corral

As we stood there shivering in the cold (wishing that I had worn a hoodie instead of just my hot pink arm warmers), thousands of people gathered around the Survivor Tree for a sunrise church service.  Thousands of heads bowed in prayer, thousands of voices singing the words of Amazing Grace.  In that moment, denominations did not matter.  No one cared if you were Methodist or Baptist or Catholic or LDS.  No one cared whether you went to a church that believes in sprinkling or immersion  It did not matter what version of the Bible you had on your nightstand.  Because there, in that moment, everyone stood together.  Faithful.  Together.  Undivided.

Survivor Tree Service

The entire race was about those 168 people who lost their lives in the bombing 13 years ago.  There are no bibs numbered 1-168.  Those numbers are reserved.  There are banners with the name of each victim along the race route.  And at the starting line, when it became time for 168 moments of silence--one for each of the lives lost--25,000 runners turned off their iPods, stopped their nervous chatter, bowed their heads, and made not one sound.  When one man behind us tried to whisper during this time, everyone near him shushed him and he zipped it.  These seconds were precious and sacred, and they were not going to be disrespected or disturbed.

The 168 people killed in whose honor we ran.

After the silence, the singing and cheering and jumping around began.  Everyone encouraging each other, with statements like (my favorite from a nice lady near us) that no matter your time, you are beating the couch.  Beating the Couch became my mantra for the day!

And everywhere you looked you saw some act of support for Boston.  Red socks.  Green shoe laces.  Stickers saying that we all stand together.  T-shirts promising prayers.  All of these acts--no matter how small they may be--were a perfect sign of support and unity and defiance of acts of terror.

And as the race began, nothing changed.  We may have been breathing harder and smelling worse, but the same qualities that were seen at the finish were seen during the race.  When a man fell about two miles in, several of us stopped to help him stand up and get back on his way.  We did not know him, he was hairy and sweaty, we will probably never see him again, but in that moment he was one of us, and he needed help.  So we gave it.  No questions asked.

We waved at spectators (particularly those with signs like "Chuck Norris never an a marathon!" and "If Westbrook can play the 2nd half with a broken knee, you can run a marathon!" and "Keep going, keep going, that's what she said!"), encouraged each other, and thanked the volunteers with the water.  People with shirts proclaiming that they were fueled by beef ran next to those with t-shirts screaming vegetarianism.  This country girl with an iPod full of running songs by Miranda Lambert and Reckless Kelly shouted encouragement to a man running in a pink skirt.  OU fans and OSU fans ran side by side.  There were 25,000 people, all with different backgrounds, thoughts, political beliefs, all ran toward one common goal.  And that goal was achieved.

If you ask me, the world should take a lesson or two.  About acceptance.  About kindness.  About determination.  About perseverance.  About tolerance.  Heck, just about life in general.  If it did, it might just be a better place.