junes gone by
June 1st?! How is that even possible? I feel like the past year of my life has been stolen from me. But demanding it back isn’t going to help at all. Although, if I’m being honest, sometimes I really want to just throw a good ol’ fashioned temper tantrum. Won’t change a thing, but it would be a great release.
I’ll refrain though. At least for right now.
I’ll reminisce about Junes gone by instead.
- Last June I spent a month with Kitty: escaping floods in Iowa City, riding a motorcycle in Missouri, stalking the dancing Fiona at tot time, and learning a ton about parenting. But of all the adventures, the highlight was definitely being there when Kitty gave birth to Junior. Peaberry instantly won my heart. I loved our middle of the night togetherness times. I can’t believe she’s about to turn one.
- All too often, I’m still guilty of living as though I’m not convinced God’s mindful of me. Worse, I spend too much time living without being mindful of Him.
- If you’ve never read it, you need to read about the shocking ugly heartfelt birthday gift I got from my Mosotho friend Joyce a couple years ago. It’ll change your life. Forever. Okay, maybe not quite. But it’ll at least make you laugh.
- I miss much. Like Starbucks (the bird, not the coffee). And my car. And my job. And that’s just the short list.
- Last year I was struck with how much I need relationships, and this year that’s been reinforced even more. I’m grateful I do not journey alone.
Tell me something about your June(s). Past, present, or future.
we have a winner
In a surprising turn of events, TheNorEaster swooped in and stole the 20K comment! Congrats, Nor!
I thought for sure that @ngie, Joy Renee, or Andrew (get a blog!) would have won it, with their ridiculously creative commenting this past week. And to be completely honest, I actually held out hope that a “real” comment would take it. Not to dismiss the fun I had with all the crazy banter. But, ya know. A girl can dream.
Way to go, Nor! Your persistence paid off.
Email me and let me know which prize you want.
And as for the rest of you—
Thank you for so faithfully coming back to read what I have to say. You’re so my favorite part of blogging.
Happy 20K, y’all!
20K prize
You guys gave me some great ideas on the prize for the 20K competition. Here’s what I’ve decided.
The person who posts the coveted 20K comment will win their choice of:
- a personalized Moleskine journal with thoughts from me scribbled throughout it
- a framed photograph of mine (of your choosing) with some ramblings from me about the picture
- a $50 gift card to wherever you want
So get commenting. (Time to de-lurk, all you Grit stalkers!)
Not another word from me on the subject until I’m announcing the winner…
the 20k grand prize
We’re getting close to 20,000 comments here at the Grit. And, at least in my little world, that’s a pretty big deal. One that’s worthy of a competition and, of course, a prize.
20,000 comments is worth celebrating because it reflects what I love most about my blog: the community that’s had here. The best bits aren’t found in my posts but in the comments. I value your input and feedback; I cherish the glimpses into your heart; I laugh at the crazy shenanigans that erupt.
Seriously. The comments are where it’s at.
So in celebrating the 20,000th comment, I’m really celebrating all of you. For making the Grit what it is. (Everybody together: Awwwwww.) Since we can’t all get together for a rockin’ party, the next best thing is a giveaway.
I was thinking how amazing it would be if the 20K commenter could win 20K. But yeah. So not gonna happen.
But I want the prize to be something you think is worth winning. I got some of your initial thoughts on this already, but it’s time for a serious Grit brainstorm session.
In the past I’ve given away brownies and gift cards to Starbucks and iTunes. We need to top those. So gimme every suggestion you’ve got. (How ’bout I set a budget of $50?)
What do you want to win if you post the coveted 20K comment?
Oh, and all you lurkers out there? Now’s the time to come out of hiding. I’m just sayin.
known
What are you known for?
My husband is notorious for asking that question when we visit a restaurant. He wants to know what’s uniquely theirs that keeps people coming back for more. And then he usually orders it. He wants to taste and see for himself.
Sometimes it’s bit him in the butt. Like the time in Sicily he ended up with an entire fish—bones, head, insides, and all! But most of the time he really enjoys whatever it is they’re known for.
I’ve been thinking lately about his famous question—but in the context of me. What am I known for?
I could easily tell you what I want to be known for. But what I actually am? That takes some more thinking. I think it’s a question worth knowing the answer to, though.
How about you? What are you known for?
Maybe it’s your contagious laughter, or your gentle spirit. Perhaps it’s your loyalty, your passion for God, or your spontaneity. It could be your authenticity, or your love of baking. Or even your much-applied minty lip gloss.
Ruminate for a minute, and then let us know what you think. I’ll be back later to answer the question for myself.
What are you known for?
Feel free to answer anonymously.
meet gym
I’ve been hanging out with Gym a lot lately. Like five or six times a week. And let me tell you, he’s been kicking my butt. Kick.Ing.It.
With a name like Urban Active, how could I resist joining? I knew I needed to do something not only to get in shape but also to improve my mental/emotional health. So I hooked up with Gym.
To say I was intimidated on our first date would be a ridiculous understatement. My chest tightened with anxiety just looking at all the equipment that I had no clue how to use, and seeing all the people who very clearly knew what they were doing.
But I dove right in, expending more energy in one 20-minute session than I had in weeks. Months.
And I hobbled for days afterward. No lie. Hover-peeing was completely out of the question, and walking down a set of stairs nearly ended in catastrophe on more than one occasion.
But I kept seeing Gym.
And the I-can’t-believe-it-hurts-this-much soreness gradually subsided—for the most part.
Now Gym and I spend an hour together just about every day. I work hard; I sweat a disgusting amount; I huff and puff all the way to the bitter end. Today I pushed myself really hard. And I’ve had jell-o legs ever since. [Note to self: Hold the handrail on the way downstairs.]
While I don’t expect I’ll ever say, I love working out!, I do walk away feeling exhausted proud of myself.
So for that reason, I can say I love Gym.
Even though he kicks my butt.
iWrite
My depression seems to have kidnapped my passion.
Right now it feels impossible to dream big or plan ahead. Most of what used to excite me isn’t stirring me or making my heart leap anymore. At least not like they used to.
But one passion has remained. It’s flickering like a candle near an open window, but it’s still there.
I love to write.
Writing helps me process my own thoughts. It’s therapeutic. Cathartic. My scribbled notes in my Moleskine, unpolished and unkempt, tell me my heart’s still beating. My Gritty thoughts sent out through the cyberwaves remind me I still have something from Him to offer.
Despite the fog that envelops me, I still love to write. And the significance of that isn’t lost on me.
Pay attention to dreams that don’t die.
I’m trying to pay attention. And keep writing. Even when it’s all I’m able to do in a day.
So while I wait for the ransom to be paid on my other passions, I’ll guard what He gave me and use it for His glory.
And I’ll trust that—somehow—He’ll use it for my healing.
