On Tuesday, I drove by a sign for a 5K race this weekend. It was Strides for Autism and I suddenly felt a desire to do this. Now, I am not a runner. I have only ever participated in a 5K anything before and both times were several years ago when we lived in Alamo. And I walked both of those. I have never even been to a 5K outside of Alamo and had no clue what I was in for! But, I felt it was a good cause and I have been wanting to learn how to run and eventually, I would really like to run a marathon. Anyone who knows me, though, would know that this is so far out of my comfort zone, it isn't even funny! I am 100 pounds overweight and have spent most of my life making excuses for why I can't run.
So, I went online, paid the money and committed to go. I went alone, because truthfully, I didn't want anyone I knew to see me make a fool of myself! I arrived about 10 minutes before the race was to start. It was so cold. I think the high today is supposed to be 50, but at 8:55 in the morning, with a bit of a breeze, I doubt it was even 40 yet! I felt intimidated. Most of the people there were real runners! They did have a 1 mile fun run/walk and I seriously contemplated switching which category I was going to participate in. But something within me, decided to press forward and at least do my best to fake it! I mean, I can run, I chase Sam almost daily, so even if I just ran and walked, I could at least make an attempt to appear to know what I was doing. My only fear was coming in last, but I figured with all the people there, surely some would be on the slower end, like me.
The music was blaring, everyone was waiting in line and then the race began. Everyone began to run, and I joined in. I kept a slow pace, thinking that I could maintain it for awhile, at least long enough to get in the middle of the pack. How wrong I was. Soon, even with my jog, I was in last place. I wasn't far behind, but I could hardly breathe and my ankles felt like they were going to give at any moment. I don't think I'd even made it the first 1/4 mile. I slowed to a walk and realized that my shins had seized up, both of them, and the cramping was intense. I have never experienced shin splints, but as I've come home and googled my symptoms, I think that was what happened. All I knew, at that moment, was that I couldn't walk without limping. It hurt so bad and I was so cold and I was completely in last place. I could barely even see the other person closest to me, she was that far ahead. I wanted to turn around. Would anyone know if I just sort of snuck back. I mean, I could always say that I had leg cramps and couldn't continue. I thought about sitting down and waiting for awhile or someone to take pity on me and give me a ride back. But, I didn't. I just kept walking/limping. It wasn't my calf muscle, but the muscle in front of my legs and they just felt soooo tight, almost like a charlie horse, but in front.
Soon, the runners in first place had reached the halfway point, turned around and began to pass me. A few of them smiled and said "keep going" or "you're doing great", to which I just smiled, feeling complete and utter humiliation! And I just kept putting one foot in front of the other.
By the time, I reached the halfway point and turned around, I was completely alone. I couldn't even see another run, anywhere. I felt so alone and stupid. I really just felt like a complete idiot for even thinking I could do this. And for reasons, I'm not sure I even comprehend, I began to bawl! The emotions of being so embarrassed and the pain in my legs and my thoughts of autism and how close to home it hits all flooded over into a river of tears that kept me company the rest of the walk! Nothing quite like crossing the finish line, in last place, limping, way behind everyone else, with tear streaked cheeks and swollen eyes. And I paid money for that! LOL!
But, as I walked, I did a lot of thinking. The last five years have been some of the hardest of my entire life. It has been a race I was never prepared for, even if I thought I could handle it with no problem. It has been a road I have taken, mostly alone, or at least that was how it felt on many dark days. Even now, here I was walking for autism, not because my son has autism, but because I almost wish he did so we could fit somewhere and have that support group. Instead, I have so many unknowns. His label is only diagnosed in one other boy in the entire state of Utah. That's lonely! And for the boys who have his same diagnosis, their futures are everything from time in prison to semi-normal and everything in between. I don't know where we fit! It feels lonely!
And if I feel alone on days, I can't imagine how he feels. He understands the world around him, but he can't communicate it to others. He strings together a slur of vowels that I try so hard to understand and when I don't, he gets mad and hits me. It breaks my heart. He just wants us to know what he's thinking and feeling and sometimes, we just don't. That has to be a very lonely road.
Oh, and the humiliation that goes with raising a special needs child, it can be overwhelming sometimes! Just yesterday, I took Sam with me to Abby's program at school. Part way through, he wanted to crawl under my chair and sit. He likes that sometimes, being curled up in a ball under something. It was a good 10 minutes before I realized he had pulled the purse of the woman in front of us and had emptied the contents and was going through it. It took everything within me to pick it up and hand the stuff back to the woman. She kind of smiled, but then I saw the look she exchanged with her daughter, and I knew what she was thinking. This type of judgement is a part of my life now. I live with it every day. I pretend that it doesn't matter, and for the most part, it doesn't, but it still hurts a little! And if I'm not getting those looks, I'm getting looks of pity, which often feel like messages of "you're doing great, but I'm so glad it's you and not me dealing with it." Whether he is running into a neighbors house to hide from me, pooping on a neighbor's yard, or just having a complete meltdown in public, I rarely get to fake my way through life unnoticed! It is way out of my comfort zone!
As I thought of all these things, during my lonely walk, the tears kept flowing! I realized that I may never have a typical looking life! I may never have a beautiful home with wonderful decorations and paintings on the wall and a house that is always clean and smells yummy. I may always feel that I'm running from one disaster to another while trying to squeeze in the needs of 5 other children and play practice and church callings. It may be years before I get a vacation away with just my husband. We talk about it all the time, but it is so impossible with six kids and one who is special needs! I will probably not finish this race of life in any place but last. I imagine I will cross that line way behind everyone else, limping, tired and with swollen eyes! But, I will finish! I will never quit, no matter how hard it is. And I truly believe that in God's eyes, He only cares that we cross that finish line. He doesn't compare us to anyone else, there is no placement in God's kingdom, and that is the greatest comfort of all!
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Seeking out the One
I love Christmas. I love everything about it. Now that I live up in Utah, it's even better with the snow! I love the anticipation of the season, the songs, the lights, just everything. Tonight I was blessed to have felt the season spirit in a very special way.
Tonight was our Relief Society party (for those that have no idea what that means, its when all the women get together and eat and talk!) I have always LOVED Relief Society, but I especially look forward to the Christmas one. It always means lots of good company and delicious food to enjoy at such a wonderful time of year. I don't have to chase down children or worry about what foods they are picking in or if one or more have already left the building. In this ward, we have amazingly talented and creative women who do everything way above and beyond anything I have ever witnessed! I like to think that maybe I am creative-here or there-but I really don't compare! So, it was with great excitement that I looked forward to this evening.
Then I remembered. I have Celiac Disease. It's not something that affects me very often, at home because I have easily learned to cook around it. In fact, other than social gatherings or trying to eat out, I don't feel like my life is any different than it was before. However, imagine for a moment attending a mormon function with desserts and trying to avoid all wheat product. Impossible, huh? I knew that I had three options. I could go and politely turn everything down and watch everyone else eat the yummy things and pick through a thing here or there that might be safe or I could take my own food or I could just stay home. Well, I really didn't feel like going and being the one person not enjoying a delicious feast of holiday goodness and I certainly didn't want to be the one walking in with my own treat-yeah that's fun! So, I opted to stay home. I didn't even fully make the decision until the morning of. I was bummed, but it was a lot less work and no one would have to feel bad, and let's face it, in a ward of over 100 women I would not be missed. As it is, my calling at church is just playing the piano, so most sunday's I wonder if anyone even knows who I am.
About 2 hours before the event, I got a phone call. It was the Relief Society President on the other line. Here is how our conversation went.
Her: Hi Ramona, I was just calling to see if you were coming tonight. We'd really like to have you there.
Me: um, no I don't think I'm going to be able to make it.
Her: Really? Are you sure?
Me: (wanting to lie, but really, who can lie to the Relief Society President) well, I know that there was going to be food and with my inability to eat wheat, I didn't want to make a big deal, so I just thought it would be easier if I stayed home.
Her: Let me call you back.
So, there was a bit more to the conversation, but you get the idea. About 20 minutes later, she called back with the ingredient list of what was being served and how many things I would still be able to eat. Of course, I went.
It was a wonderful evening with delicious food. They had this delicious looking cake that was crumbled and layered with peppermint ice cream, but they also had a few extra bowls of just plain ice cream (well, not too plain, it was peppermint, my favorite). They had artichoke dip with crackers and chunks of bread and a bowl of chips (gluten free) and so on for everything. Whether those things were all part of the original plan or some dear sweet sister ran down to Wal-mart to grab just before it started, it didn't matter. I felt like I fit in and more importantly, I felt loved. They didn't need to go to all the extra effort. In fact, if I had my way, no one would have even known. And maybe to many it seems like a silly reason to stay home in the first place, but I couldn't stop crying at the end of the evening when the final message was presented. They talked about Christ and the real meaning behind this amazing time of year. They said the same words we all hear every year about the same story and the same baby that was born in a manger. But, as I sat there, surrounded by beautiful women who took the time and effort to make me feel important enough to be there, the real message was taught. Jesus was more than a baby in a manger. The events of that night were only the beginning to a life of self-less love and teaching and sacrifice. Jesus never let the one go unnoticed. Like the true shepard He was, He always knew and met the needs of His flock. For me, this night, I was the one. This sweet Relief Society President taught more in her quiet actions than any word that was spoken. She followed quiet promptings to call me in the first place and then she did everything she could to make the night possible for me. I didn't have to take my own food or sit and watch everyone else eat without me. I was part of the fold and the lesson was profound.
So, as we all get busy during this time of year, remember to seek out the one. It may be someone in your family who is struggling a bit this year or a neighbor who is feeling alone or it just may be someone in your ward who can't eat wheat and feels a little out of the loop! No matter what our efforts are or how small they may seem, we may never know how much it means to the one.
Tonight was our Relief Society party (for those that have no idea what that means, its when all the women get together and eat and talk!) I have always LOVED Relief Society, but I especially look forward to the Christmas one. It always means lots of good company and delicious food to enjoy at such a wonderful time of year. I don't have to chase down children or worry about what foods they are picking in or if one or more have already left the building. In this ward, we have amazingly talented and creative women who do everything way above and beyond anything I have ever witnessed! I like to think that maybe I am creative-here or there-but I really don't compare! So, it was with great excitement that I looked forward to this evening.
Then I remembered. I have Celiac Disease. It's not something that affects me very often, at home because I have easily learned to cook around it. In fact, other than social gatherings or trying to eat out, I don't feel like my life is any different than it was before. However, imagine for a moment attending a mormon function with desserts and trying to avoid all wheat product. Impossible, huh? I knew that I had three options. I could go and politely turn everything down and watch everyone else eat the yummy things and pick through a thing here or there that might be safe or I could take my own food or I could just stay home. Well, I really didn't feel like going and being the one person not enjoying a delicious feast of holiday goodness and I certainly didn't want to be the one walking in with my own treat-yeah that's fun! So, I opted to stay home. I didn't even fully make the decision until the morning of. I was bummed, but it was a lot less work and no one would have to feel bad, and let's face it, in a ward of over 100 women I would not be missed. As it is, my calling at church is just playing the piano, so most sunday's I wonder if anyone even knows who I am.
About 2 hours before the event, I got a phone call. It was the Relief Society President on the other line. Here is how our conversation went.
Her: Hi Ramona, I was just calling to see if you were coming tonight. We'd really like to have you there.
Me: um, no I don't think I'm going to be able to make it.
Her: Really? Are you sure?
Me: (wanting to lie, but really, who can lie to the Relief Society President) well, I know that there was going to be food and with my inability to eat wheat, I didn't want to make a big deal, so I just thought it would be easier if I stayed home.
Her: Let me call you back.
So, there was a bit more to the conversation, but you get the idea. About 20 minutes later, she called back with the ingredient list of what was being served and how many things I would still be able to eat. Of course, I went.
It was a wonderful evening with delicious food. They had this delicious looking cake that was crumbled and layered with peppermint ice cream, but they also had a few extra bowls of just plain ice cream (well, not too plain, it was peppermint, my favorite). They had artichoke dip with crackers and chunks of bread and a bowl of chips (gluten free) and so on for everything. Whether those things were all part of the original plan or some dear sweet sister ran down to Wal-mart to grab just before it started, it didn't matter. I felt like I fit in and more importantly, I felt loved. They didn't need to go to all the extra effort. In fact, if I had my way, no one would have even known. And maybe to many it seems like a silly reason to stay home in the first place, but I couldn't stop crying at the end of the evening when the final message was presented. They talked about Christ and the real meaning behind this amazing time of year. They said the same words we all hear every year about the same story and the same baby that was born in a manger. But, as I sat there, surrounded by beautiful women who took the time and effort to make me feel important enough to be there, the real message was taught. Jesus was more than a baby in a manger. The events of that night were only the beginning to a life of self-less love and teaching and sacrifice. Jesus never let the one go unnoticed. Like the true shepard He was, He always knew and met the needs of His flock. For me, this night, I was the one. This sweet Relief Society President taught more in her quiet actions than any word that was spoken. She followed quiet promptings to call me in the first place and then she did everything she could to make the night possible for me. I didn't have to take my own food or sit and watch everyone else eat without me. I was part of the fold and the lesson was profound.
So, as we all get busy during this time of year, remember to seek out the one. It may be someone in your family who is struggling a bit this year or a neighbor who is feeling alone or it just may be someone in your ward who can't eat wheat and feels a little out of the loop! No matter what our efforts are or how small they may seem, we may never know how much it means to the one.
Friday, August 21, 2009
My Happy Ballerina
I love everything about this photo! It will forever remind me of my little girl, in tights and a leotard, so excited, so happy to finally be at ballet lessons. I think this means most to me because I have always loved ballet as well! I'm not one to live my dreams through my kids (well, at least I try not to) but I was blessed with a little girl who loves it as much as I do! I know it could change, but let me live in my dream world for now. I imagine her spending the next 15 years with me driving her to and from lessons. She'll trade in her cute little ballet slippers each year for bigger ones. I dream of the day when I will watch her pirouette across the stage in perfect elegance and form. She will turn and spin on the very tips of her toes like I tried to a million times as a young girl, in love with the elegant art of ballet! I just hope that no matter where she goes or what she chooses throughout her life, I hope she never loses that look of pure joy! I hope every adventure can be faced with that!
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Tender Mercies
I have been thinking a lot, lately about this term. It seems to be talked about a lot at church and really first brought to many of our attention by a beautiful talk by Elder Bednar a few conferences ago. Last month, at Relief Society salad social, the talk was on the Tender Mercies of the Lord. Since that time, I find myself pondering and finding the many little moments throughout my daily life when the Lord shows me He loves me. I think I love these two words so much because they represent something so personal. We all live in awe at the big things God has done for us from the creation of our beautiful world to the quiet wonder of a newborn, just kissed by heaven's lips. But, to me, when I think of a tender mercy, I think of the things that may not mean anything to anyone else, but it means everything to me.
Just yesterday, I went grocery shopping and took the two youngest. Noah was great, for most of it, hanging out in the moby wrap, just happy to be looking around! Olivia was pleasant, but curious. She "needed" everything and I think we passed 15 potential birthday presents that she felt she needed to buy right there. She's 3 and definately to "mature" for riding in the cart, so what should have been an hour long shopping trip stretched into almost 2. By the time I reached the check out line with my cart filled to the brim, Noah was done. The poor thing was ready for a nap or food or both and just began to scream for all he had in him. Olivia was still trying to convince me that every candy in the check out area needed to be in our cart, and I was ready to join Noah in the screaming. At that moment, a kind man, clearly a grandpa stepped over and asked if he could unload my cart for me. I felt more gratitude than pride at that moment, and I stepped back to bounce and sooth my baby. He chatted while he unloaded and made me feel that I deserved the help. Noah fell asleep and by the time, my groceries were rung up and back in my cart, I felt more than joy at being done. As I pushed my cart to the car and encouraged Olivia to hurry just a little faster, I felt warmth around me. I knew at that moment that it was no coincidence that this kind stranger stopped to help. He felt a nudge from a loving Father in Heaven and he listened and helped. With the warmth I felt love. I knew that my Father in Heaven loved me, was aware of my struggles and weaknesses. I knew that through the hands of this sweet grandpa, the Lord was able to reach down and help me. He lightened my burden and reminded me that I am never alone.
It also made me stop and think if I listen enough to those little nudgings. Do I pass up opportunities to help the Lord in performing those small tender mercies for others? Do I let my pride or my fear keep me from being an instrument for Him? And if I do, how can I overcome it. I pray that I strive harder to listen more, love more, and show my gratitude for the multitude of mercies the Lord gives to me.
Just yesterday, I went grocery shopping and took the two youngest. Noah was great, for most of it, hanging out in the moby wrap, just happy to be looking around! Olivia was pleasant, but curious. She "needed" everything and I think we passed 15 potential birthday presents that she felt she needed to buy right there. She's 3 and definately to "mature" for riding in the cart, so what should have been an hour long shopping trip stretched into almost 2. By the time I reached the check out line with my cart filled to the brim, Noah was done. The poor thing was ready for a nap or food or both and just began to scream for all he had in him. Olivia was still trying to convince me that every candy in the check out area needed to be in our cart, and I was ready to join Noah in the screaming. At that moment, a kind man, clearly a grandpa stepped over and asked if he could unload my cart for me. I felt more gratitude than pride at that moment, and I stepped back to bounce and sooth my baby. He chatted while he unloaded and made me feel that I deserved the help. Noah fell asleep and by the time, my groceries were rung up and back in my cart, I felt more than joy at being done. As I pushed my cart to the car and encouraged Olivia to hurry just a little faster, I felt warmth around me. I knew at that moment that it was no coincidence that this kind stranger stopped to help. He felt a nudge from a loving Father in Heaven and he listened and helped. With the warmth I felt love. I knew that my Father in Heaven loved me, was aware of my struggles and weaknesses. I knew that through the hands of this sweet grandpa, the Lord was able to reach down and help me. He lightened my burden and reminded me that I am never alone.
It also made me stop and think if I listen enough to those little nudgings. Do I pass up opportunities to help the Lord in performing those small tender mercies for others? Do I let my pride or my fear keep me from being an instrument for Him? And if I do, how can I overcome it. I pray that I strive harder to listen more, love more, and show my gratitude for the multitude of mercies the Lord gives to me.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
My New Blog Venture
Well, this is something I have wanted to do for awhile and I've finally figured out how to do it and took the plunge! I've started my own FREE blog wear blog! So, if you are wanting some backgrounds for your blog that have a bit of that "down-home baking" feel to it, then check out this link:
Home Baked Blogs
(much more to come, this is just the beginning!)
Home Baked Blogs
(much more to come, this is just the beginning!)
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