Words

"Words are a heavy thing ... they weigh you down. If birds talked, they couldn't fly." ~ Marilyn

My favorite television series of all time was Northern Exposure. When it first aired, I was still in college and only got to watch it occasionally. Later in life, I purchased the DVDs and have now watched it many times. The writers for this show were brilliant. The series is witty and wise and quirky and profoundly thoughtful.

One of my favorite characters is Marilyn. She is quiet and calm and a great listener who sees way more than the folks around her realize. During the third season, she began dating a mute man, but she understood everything he was saying. In fact, their "conversations" were quite fascinating.

There are some people in my life who are not big talkers. My mom and my son are two who are filled with incredible wisdom and when they do choose to share it, you might feel blown away by them. When I think of them, I am reminded that it truly is important to let your words be few. I have gotten into many of my troubles simply by opening my mouth!

With our tongues, we hold impressive power. Our words can do positive things. They can bless those around us. Pleasant words, in fact, are like the honeycomb - they are sweet to the soul and health to the body (Proverbs 16:24).

Sadly, however, Marilyn was right about words. They are often heavy. They can hurt. They can split up marriages and damage children permanently. They can ruin your entire life. How often do we remember the kind words spoken to us over the ugly words? Those mean words sting to the core and stick forever. And if pleasant words can bring you health to your bones, what does that say about ugly words? 

There is a saying that God gave us two ears and only one mouth because we should listen more than we talk. I agree with Marilyn. Birds would never be able to fly if they could talk. It really can mess us up.

So, may my words be few. May I love in deeds. And may I only use words that bring God glory.

Bloom Where You Are Planted

In the summer of 2018, my husband Bill and I moved from our home of 20 years to a new home in Fort Worth, Texas. Our youngest child had just graduated from high school and when we dropped him off at Texas A&M University, there we were empty nesters in a brand new town.

It is not hard to make friends in this very friendly little city. It is the quintessential Texas town which means, among many other qualities, the folks are very friendly. While our house was being built, we spent half a year living in corporate housing downtown. Although I missed my friends at home and I missed my kids away at college and I missed even having my possessions which were all in storage, it really was a fun and interesting time in our lives. 

Without kids at home, we started doing ballroom dancing and it was an absolute blast. We toured wineries and did some traveling, just the two of us, like we were newlyweds again. Probably my favorite trip was the one we took to Italy just a few months before the COVID-19 pandemic changed the world.

Lockdown taught me a lot and I will share that on a different post. This one is about "blooming where I'm planted". You see, I am grateful for my wonderful life and for my hard-working husband of 25 years. I am content with my beautiful home and my new friends and my new life in this great town, but this was not my first choice. My first choice was a mountain home in Colorado and we thought that was where we were headed. Life had a different plan for us. At least for now.

I was working until December when I decided I no longer wish to work. For the first time in my life, I have no kids at home and no job and even though I am fully vaccinated, we haven't really returned to normal parties and hanging out with friends. So, I am often alone and it's been strange to not have kids to take care of or a job to do. I have felt purposeless. 

All my life, I have been the worst gardener on the planet. I kill everything. When people give me plants, I always feel so much anxiety because I know I will kill it quickly. Bill is pretty good at gardening. He has always enjoyed it, but just doesn't have much time for it. I knew it was risky, but I told him I was ready to try to plant an herb and vegetable garden this year. I have the time to care for it, so I was ready.

We have beautiful flowers in the front and a few in the back and all the credit has gone to Bill who cares for them. This was going to be my attempt to cultivate a garden and I was scared. We had just come through a huge snow storm that killed so many bushes and plants. North Texas does get snow sometimes, but nothing like what we had in February. I wasn't sure what to expect for the approaching Spring, but I was ready to try.

I began by digging up a large space near my back windows for the herbs and vegetables. Near it, I dug an even larger space between this garden and my apple trees (my mom gave us these as a house warming after our house was built and they are thriving). This big space, I filled with small pebbles and placed a fireplace in the middle with chairs around it and alongside it, large boxes filled with plants and flowers. I used leftover bricks from our home to create a small path leading to the back porch and I put in garden lights. I did the hard work of digging and planting and on the weekends, Bill helped me finish it all off and together, we built a very beautiful garden and we have bees swarming and tomatoes popping up. The apple trees are filled with budding apples. We have huge herbs which I have already been using in my cooking and the peppers and watermelons are even coming out strong. The plants and flowers in the front and back are massive and so colorful. I have been so blessed and happier than I could have imagined watching the effort bring such beauty.

I have a flag in my herb garden (photo above) that serves as a reminder for my soul. You see, I did not move to the town of my choice. And I have felt lost sometimes. I built a beautiful life for two decades in The Woodlands and I still have friends there who are like family to me and I miss them all the time. I miss my running and triathlon friends and getting together with them on Saturday mornings and Wednesday nights to run and hang out. I miss my swim team friends. I miss my girlfriends and grabbing brunch with them or getting mani pedis together. I miss my friends from the Leukemia Society and planning fundraising events with them and MD Anderson Cancer Center. 

I also miss the dream I had for my ranch in Colorado (that is a whole long story in and of itself). But what I am learning, especially since resigning from my job in December, is to "bloom where I am planted". Right now, for whatever reason it may be, God has placed Bill and me in Fort Worth. We are in a stage in life that is different than I would have imagined. I know the pandemic has caused this time in our lives to be much different than what we had hoped or planned. But every single day, I hear the words in my mind and soul "bloom where you are planted". Every day, I am learning to grow just like my garden is growing. I am accepting the many situations and circumstances and learning to bloom.

Last night, even though it is April 21, we had another freeze in Texas. At our house, it dipped into the 30s which meant a frost was coming late at night. I was so upset at the thought that we might lose all the plants we've worked so hard to cultivate. I bought plastic shower liners and we used those and some tarps we had to cover everything and we brought all the potted plants inside. 

This morning, the sun is out. The temperatures are up into the mid 40s. I took off the tarps and plastic covers. I brought the potted plants back outside and watered everything. And the gardens are beautiful. Nothing is dead! I am sitting out here in the garden with my coffee and I'm so happy.

I am not necessarily where I want to be, but I am choosing contentment. And I will, as the world opens up more, continue to volunteer for causes I believe in. I will bloom right here in Fort Worth where God has planted me.

Team Hoyt

A Father's Heart for His Son

This morning, I saw on the news that Dick Hoyt died last night. It has been a long time since I've logged on to this blog, but with tears in my eyes, I just had to get on here and put my thoughts and feelings down to capture them forever.

When I first started racing in triathlons and marathons, I discovered the duo known as "Team Hoyt", a father and son team that had a huge impact on the endurance sports community. Rick was born in 1962 and was diagnosed with a spastic cerebral palsy after his umbilical cord became twisted around his neck causing blockage of oxygen flow. Doctors told the Hoyts that their son would never be anything but a vegetable and encouraged them to institutionalize him. But the Hoyts believed there was something more to Rick and that his life mattered, so they found a doctor in Boston who believed in their son too and told them to treat him like any other child.

Rick's mom Judy spent hours every day reading to him and teaching him the alphabet. When he was 11 years old, his parents fitted him with a computer which enabled him to "talk" and they knew he was highly intelligent. In fact, with this computer, Rick was able to enroll in public school and excel. He even went on to graduate from college with a degree in special education!

In 1977, Rick told his dad he wanted to run a race for charity. Dick was 36 years old and not a runner. He practiced running with bags of cement in a wheelchair when Rick was at school. Following that first race, Rick said, "Dad when I'm running, it feels like I'm not handicapped." And that was the beginning of many years of competition for the dad and son team. They raced in the Boston Marathon for decades. They raced many triathlons, including six Ironman races. For the swim portion, Dick pulled Rick in a boat with a bungee cord attached around his waist to the front on the boat. For the bike, Rick rode in a two-seater bicycle and then for the run, Dick pushed him along in his custom chair made for running.

Once Rick was asked if he could give his father any gift, what would it be and he replied, "The thing I'd most like is for my dad to sit in the chair and I would push him for once."

In 2006, when I ran the Boston Marathon, I knew Team Hoyt was out there running and although I didn't see them on the course, I remember feeling honored that I was getting to run in the same race as these two men who have inspired so many of us in running and triathlon. I remember thinking about them on the day I competed in Ironman Arizona. When I would get tired or felt like stopping, I would remind myself that Dick Hoyt did everything I was doing pulling or pushing along a grown man! That made my race seem easy.

But for me the thing that touches my heart the most about Dick Hoyt was that he demonstrated the love of a father. He made me think about God. And so many times I know that God as my Father has had to pull me through dark waters or push me along when my legs couldn't go any farther. He picks me up and gets me through my "race" of life. I could feel the love of Dick for Rick and he never ceased to remind me that a father's love for their child gives confidence, strength, joy and blessing. I miss Dick Hoyt already. I pray for comfort for Rick and all the family and friends he leaves behind. I am thankful to Team Hoyt for representing bravery, courage, the spirit of "can do all things", and for being a symbol of the Father heart of God. Rest in peace, Dick Hoyt!