The "marathon" continues...

It's official: I STINK at change.

When we were in Chattanooga a couple weeks ago, I told our friends that we were at the 26th mile of this marathon of a year, that the finish line was in sight, that we had run the race and were about to enjoy the blissful endorphins that come once you finally let yourself stop running.

I was wrong. WRONG WRONG WRONG.

I feel like we just ran 26.1 miles, saw the finish line, and then someone in a car came along and pulled the finish line back back back. To get there, we have to keep running. Up hills, only up, through tall grass, and in the pouring down rain. We're still running, folks.

And here's the truth: I'm over it.

All year, I have been trying to see the positives in the struggles, trying to grow in the challenges, trying to cherish new friends even when I am missing the old, but two weeks ago, we got to my parents' house and I just stopped. The truth is that I just can't keep it up. I'm done. I am ready for this adventure to be over.

As soon as we got here, our hearts full but our pockets empty, we hit the ground running looking for jobs. My first day nannying for two sweet girls, I cried the whole way home. Sure, I can take Will with me, and I am so grateful for that as he will always be the one thing I won't sacrifice in all this, but it was exhausting, humbling work: he had no fun, I had no fun, and I'm pretty sure the girls had half fun. It poured the entire day, so we were all stuck indoors with two hyper dogs, one of which had diarrhea, and the girls wanted to go to the movies and didn't understand that Will isn't quite old enough to sit in a 90 minute movie, so off to my parents' house he went while I took two girls I just met to the movies. Thank God the movie (Chimpanzees) was sad because I cried throughout it thinking that my baby was somewhere else while I was taking care of other people's babies. But mainly I cried because I was tired. Tired of waking up, staring another challenge in the face, giving it my best shot, and falling asleep utterly exhausted. So I sat in the dark movie theatre with two random girls and cried.

And I haven't really cried since. I think I'm all cried out. I don't feel much these days. I realized that this is where we are, that both of us working three jobs (a total of six jobs, not kidding, and we're still bleeding money--how does that happen?) and looking for a rental house that just doesn't want to exist yet and looking for a car for Clay that we really can't afford is where we are. So instead of waking up and staring the challenge in the face, I'm waking up and putting one foot in front of the other. That's it. That's all I have left. Thank God for my parents, who have loved all over us since the moment we walked in the door and have given us the tangible and intangible things we need at this crazy point in our adventure. I know I haven't been easy to live with, but I think it's because I just didn't realize that the challenges would keep coming once we got to Louisville. I was so happy but also so relieved when Clay earned his diploma back on May 16. He's done it, we've done it, I thought to myself. Will is still alive, our marriage is closer than ever, we've made the most of NYC and gotten jobs in a great town. We've done it. And we have. But I was so ready to close that story of our life and now I am realizing that it's only a chapter and the novel continues. Now I understand why sometimes great books end prematurely: the author is just tired. He's ready for it to be over. Makes sense to me now.

It's funny, though, how I keep learning really important lessons. I know this time--this year but also RIGHT NOW--is meant to be and that I am being shaped by it and it will be a part of me forever. Here's what I've learned this week:

1.) Be generous. Always be generous. Even when you aren't sure that someone is benefitting from your generosity, give anyways. When Clay and I moved out of NYC, we were robbed by the garage attendant where we parked our packed van. Nothing like paying someone $40 to rob us, huh? We didn't realize it until we got to Louisville and started opening empty boxes. He took Clay's playstation, which in the grand scheme of things isn't a big deal except that it makes Clay SO happy, and at the end of a long day, it makes me so happy when he can just play for a little while. Anyways, the family for whom I tutor emailed me a week or so ago to ask how our transition went, and I laughingly told them that we almost made it through a year in New York without (many) problems and then I told her the story. Three days later we come home from our jobs to a HUGE box waiting for us. Yup, this loving, amazing, generous family sent Clay a new XBox 360 AND games. I am still so humbled by it that I can't fully believe it.

2.) Angels exist. The family mentioned in #1 are proof of that. My parents, who have taken us in and showered us with food and babysitting for Will and transportation help are forever angels in my book. Clay's boss, who picks him up and drops him off every day since we don't have a second car yet, is another. Clay's parents, who love us so unconditionally and generously all the time, are angels. The old friend I reconnected with at a baby shower full of people I remembered but now don't really know is another. They're everywhere. And I reason to bet that you are an angel to someone and you don't even know it.

3.) Cherish your family. In the past three or so weeks, I've known three people who passed away, one of which was a former student and cross country runner of mine. She was 18. She was diagnosed with leukemia back in the fall and worked hard to keep up with her senior year studies until the cancer weakened her too much. And as I kept up with her struggle from afar, I kept thinking about her sweet mother, who was always there at XC practices and meets and couldn't have been a bigger cheerleader for her daughter. My heart ached for her, her husband, her other daughter. Christian died a week and a day after she was supposed to graduate from GPS. She will forever personify Hebrews 12:1: "

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.

4.) Children are gifts. I hate the saying that babies change everything (doesn't it sound so scary?) but I quietly admit it's true. Will has changed my life and in every way for the better. He brings me joy when I am despairing, he gives me strength when I am weak, he makes me laugh when I need it most, he shows me all day long what is really important: family hugs, time together, play, books, doggies, and curiously exploring this majestic and mysterious world in which we live. Back when Clay and I decided to leave Chattanooga and embark on this crazy adventure, I asked Clay, "How can we do this with Will?"I just didn't see how this year would have been feasible with a toddler. Now I bow my head and thank God for knowing that I couldn't have done with year without Will. He's my gift. And when everything else seems hard and the finish line seems distant, all I need to keep me going is to hold his hand and hear his steady breathing and know that he's okay. Because if he's okay, then I'm okay, Clay's okay, our little family's okay.

My race is nothing compared to Christian's brave fight or the challenges that many people around me deal with every day. But this year has tested me over and over again. As much as I pray that our life will calm down soon, I know I need to pray that I can "run with perseverance the race marked out for us." Here's to the race and adventure continuing...