MakeUP and Motivation

This week has brought even more new experiences as the mom of a now 9 week old! Time is flying. Earlier this week, I was anticipating a visit from Addisyn’s Nana, my mother.  I woke up even before Addy’s first feeding at 5 AM and began planning our day to welcome Nana.  After wrapping up her feeding and morning routine, my awesome husband took over morning cuddle duties to allow me to head out for an early morning run before the 90 degree heat invaded the cool morning breeze. I laced up my neon pink shoes that haven’t seen enough pavement recently and headed out the door. Upon completing my run, in right at 9 minute splits (which I was pretty excited about 8 weeks post C-section), I  showered, dressed, and hung out with the pup all before my husband headed out the door for work. Pretty stellar morning for a new mom, right? And not only that… I had put on makeup…MAKEUP…on a Monday! I can count the times I’ve had makeup on since Addisyn was born on my hands… and especially… on a Monday no less! As I celebrated my mini feat, I laughed at how trivial the fact was and gave myself mad mommy-props… only to realize it was actually Tuesday! So the life of a mother goes. The endless cycles of wake, play, sleep merge into one collage made up of days you can’t keep track of, the notes section of your phone surely has lists galore because mommy-brains forget anything they put effort to remembering (the struggle is real!) and though you cannot keep track of the days… you wouldn’t change it for anything.  You have never been more tired, more out of touch with your own needs/desires, or more in love with your life. Simply because… each step is not for you, it’s for your little one.

Morning runs are few and far between at this stage of motherhood so I greatly enjoyed breaking into what used to be my “usual.”  Pre-Addisyn days you could drive through my neighborhood any day of the week and see what appeared to be me running on the winding sidewalks. In fact, I used to think myself that that was all I was doing. I’ve always had a passion for fitness, it makes me happy. I used to think I ran for myself.  A runner knows that the best feeling of the day often is the heat on your back, the pavement beneath your feet, the sound of your footsteps on the concrete, and the burn of your muscles as you dig in to push yourself faster than your previous run time. I used to think those were the reasons I ran. I used to think the addiction of the adrenaline flowing through my body and the aftermath of fatigued muscles kept me running.  I used to think I spent that time with myself.  But a few weeks ago on my first run after having Addisyn, I realized that this time wasn’t for me alone… it was time that I was spending with the Lord.  A passerby would assume I was running down the sidewalks of my neighborhood rocking out to Pandora alone, but deceivingly to their eyes and my own I was fellowshipping with my savior the whole 3.52 miles I ran each day. My motivation for running has varied throughout my life. In college it was to get acquainted with cross country, during my husband’s deployments it was to relieve stress, when we relocated it was to get out of the house and learn my surroundings, with several other reasons in between. It has always been a passion.  As the story of grief goes. When you experience a significant loss in your life you lose interest in those things you enjoyed prior to.  It’s hard to complete normal daily activities because of the memories attached to them.  Upon losing my sister… it took me a while to be able to return to running.  It was too much time for my brain to think.  For a short time… I questioned God’s motives… and I was an angry bitter child who did not want time alone to think about the “why” of losing someone who all the depictions of my life included. While I never lost my relationship with Christ… I questioned everything I thought I ever knew about life and God for a short time. I found it difficult to pray. It was the one thing I dropped to my knees to do immediately upon hearing the news of losing my sister, but it continued to be increasingly hard to pray openly without ceasing as I always had before. Running was out of the question because it forced me to confront reality and God at the same time. My motivation to run had been lost… because I refused to begin dealing with my pain.

It’s interesting in life that we are wired to run from things that challenge us when we claim to consistently strive for self-improvement.  I was “running” from dealing with reality by not running as I always had.  If you have experienced grief, you know that each little return to business as usual in life can be devastating to your heart. Two things I love in life: God and running. It took time to truly reconnect with both of them amidst my grief.  In time I learned that even in those days when I couldn’t find my voice to utter God’s name, He was there.  On those days when I had no motivation to pray, eat, or interact with others… He never left my side.  If it was not for my husband, I have no idea how I would have made it through the first year of losing my sister.  I always knew we had a strong, loving relationship, but I learned an even truer meaning of loving someone by the way my husband loved and supported me after Mandi’s passing.  He held me when I couldn’t walk physically, like God holds us all who can’t walk spiritually.  God provides us with the people we need in our life to get through those difficult circumstances we face. While we may never truly understand the reasons or purposes for our pain in this life, I have maintained that when we get to Heaven… it will not matter.  In the aftermath of my grief I had a laundry list of questions for God… and one day I realized that those questions won’t matter when I make it to Heaven.  I won’t carry a single burden with me when my time comes to leave this earth.  I won’t carry a notepad with me and beg to understand the details of the tragedy that caused me to redefine my life.  When I finally became strong enough to pray through my devastation, God showed me He had been there the whole time. Whatever we face in life, mountains both large and small, God is there. He’s there for small setbacks that force us to rearrange the plans in our head or tragic events that change the genetic makeup of our lives and personality… we face none of those alone. When I redefined my motivation not to understand God…not to question God… but to just trust Him, I began to heal. As I began to heal, things in my life began to return to a semi-normal state as well… including running.  All runners know that you must deal with blisters and sores as some point. You buy new shoes….expect blisters.  You change the terrain or length of your runs… expect sores and pain.  On August 14, 2012, I lost my sister just after 5pm.  It was a Thursday. My husband and I had an almost 4 hour drive to get to my family.  While I don’t remember much of those days that follow I do remember the way my feet looked…because I had kicked the dashboard so hard on that 4 hour ride that my feet literally bled.  I had never experienced pain to that extent in my life. I was always an optimistic person, there was nothing in life that I couldn’t “fix.”  Except for this. This was bigger than me. And I learned over the last two years that I will never be able to fix it.  I will never be able to choose another option to make things better. No matter the amount of determination, or love, or passion, or wisdom, or ability that I have…it will never be enough.  The blisters and sores of a runner tell their stories. It shows that a body was pushed past it’s comfort zone.  In life… tragedy often pushes us past our comfort zone, maybe even causing us to have to rest or redefine our relationship with God…and that’s okay.  God is big enough to handle a mild breakdown of consistency in His relationship with us.  He is big enough to confront our faults and allow us to see them in our own time. Ultimately, God is big enough to never leave us even at those times we waiver. He will be there, healing us, protecting us and holding us until we are ready to take on some of that responsibility on our own.

A day after my sister’s accident… one of the things recovered from her vehicle was a package that she was mailing to me. It was brought to me standing outside the funeral home.  It took a while to get the courage to open it.  It was a true package from my sister including lip gloss, fingernail polish, and other girly stuff that she had sent me because she knew it would make me happy.  Inside was a card. On the outside it has the verse Psalm 29:11, “The Lord will bless His people with peace.”  There are times in life that we aren’t sure we will make it through.  There are days that we lack motivation to overcome when we have been beaten down.  But God carries us through those days… and in time give His people peace. Sometimes, finding that peace requires you to redefine your motivation.