This morning I woke up after an exhausting dream emotionally drained and disappointed with reality. I had been dreaming that I was at the Micah house loving and hugging my boys, but I was there for a funeral – which is what caused me to start my day zapped. As I contemplated what to wear today, I checked my calendar to see what meetings I had – can I go a little sloppy or do I need to spiff it up? As my phone opened up my list of appointments I was shocked to see that it was only Wednesday. What? How can that be? I’m spent. I’ve got nothing in my tank. How can it ONLY be Wednesday?
I trudged through the morning, mostly in a fog; sometimes spaced out and other times just wanting to curl up into a corner and cry my eyes out. I commented to someone that “…it has been a roller coaster of a week – and it’s only Wednesday.” It has been a week, five days, filled with self-doubt and frustration. The roller coaster started with totally bonking my 11.5 mile training walk on Saturday morning. Bonking as in, so severely hydrated I ended up curled up on the floor of Foot Traffic out of it. Our coach had to force me to drink some Nuun water, bring me wet paper towels to cool off, and care for me. Embarrassing! Slowly, after about an hour, I started normalizing and could sit up without seeing stars –or just blackness. But I had to call my parents to come rescue me and take me home. This was only 11.5 miles, how do I expect to do 13.1 in a month? I’ve become this dehydrated once before, six years ago, while doing the very race I’m training for now. Self-doubt accompanied by fear about my ability to do the Flat Half this July 4th is nagging me still. The rest of Saturday and most of Sunday were spent in a haze of exhaustion. But Sunday night my blood boiled as a guy-friend and I clashed, yet once again. We have been friends for many years now, last fall the friendship took on a different nuance, one that I have not figured out how to navigate. After we both spewed words at each other sourced out of anger, hurt, and frustration, we said good-night in a huff. Monday night I was still upset, but also regretting my attitude, behavior and choice of words. But that didn’t stop me from imagining his face as the target for my punches as I powered through the end of my workout. By Tuesday afternoon I was left with just regret for my part and sent an email apology, sparse on words as my words tend to get me in trouble. Tuesday evening I went out with a group of friends from work to celebrate Michelle’s new adventure; she and her family are moving to Moscow – as in Russia, not Idaho – to teach at an International school. She met her Peruvian husband while they were teachers at an International school in Spain, had their first child while teaching in China, now that their second child is nearly potty trained, why not head to Russia? Sounds like a great plan to me. While I do not know Michelle as well as I would like, I will miss her and frankly I’m a bit jealous. I want an adventure of my own, to be moving internationally, to take on new challenges, mix up the status quo and break out of the norm. I left our party a little melancholy, wondering if I will have the guts to act when my opportunity does come. Noticing that my gas tank was nearing empty I knew just what to do to cheer up – visit my local Chevron and see my gas station boyfriend, Manuel. Ah, yes. Being called “princesa,” told that I’m beautiful, have lovely eyes, and as I drive away hearing him yell, “I love you!” couldn’t help but cheer me up and bring a smile to my face as I laughed over his antics. Once home, I had one chore to do before bed, pack up all the clothes that my mom and I were donating to Dress for Success; a couple co-workers were organizing a clothing drive the next day. I started sorting through my clothes which I didn’t think would be emotional, but I was very wrong. I have recently lost a lot of weight, I plan to lose more, and consequently a lot of my clothes do not fit anymore. I knew this, which is why I was planning to give them away to a good cause. But actually taking them off my wood hangers and putting them on plastic hangers and placing them in the give-away pile was difficult and frightening. “What if I can’t do it? What if I fail and gain all this weight back? I really like this skirt, maybe I could tailor it; maybe I should keep this just in case.” The last three months I have discovered a self-discipline and determination that I didn’t know I had, that I had always admired in my grandmother and wished I had inherited. Apparently I just needed to choose to have it. After much debating, putting things back on the closet rod, back in the pile, back on the rod, and finally in the “go” pile, I came to the conclusion that I have been doing it, I will continue to make the right choices, and I will be successful and will not need these clothes ever again. But the emotional journey to get to that decision was exhausting! I collapsed into bed an hour past my bedtime with the back seat of my car piled with clothes ready to pass on to someone else. Then that dream, both wonderful and dreadful all at the same time. My deep longing to be with my boys, hugging Miguel, taunting Joel, laughing with Hector, and in my dream there was no language barrier, but the shadow of a funeral added an oppressive feel to the dream. With all of this in the last five days, is it any wonder that I woke up exhausted, tired and surprised that it was only Wednesday?
I went to lunch with two co-worker friends and that was good to get out of the building, walk a little, talk with people, my spirits started to revive. In the afternoon I had a phone appointment. I took my laptop and phone into one of the mini-conference rooms so that I had some privacy. I had asked the leader of the Honduras mission team from Grace Point Community Church if I could join their team as River West had decided not to go this summer. Much to my surprise he was open to the idea, but wanted to talk to me about it further. After a half hour of chatting, it was decided that I would join their team. I was thrilled to have a plan for getting back to Honduras! Aaron had emailed Brian to see if adding another person to the already large group of 18 would cause problems with the logistics; Brian answered back, ‘Jenn is a rock star and we’d love to have her on the team.’ That made my day! It seems like God was making a way for me ahead of time. The GPCC team had to reserve their air tickets a month or so ago, but recently one of the team members needed to make other plans to come back early to be the best man in a wedding, so they purchased another ticket for him, which left one “extra” ticket in the group reservation. A ticket that will now have my name on it! My morning started with just dreaming about hugging my boys and is ending with the elation of having a date when I will actually be able to wrap my arms around them and squeeze them tight. Wednesday didn’t turn out so bad after all.