New Running Shoes

The last time I ran, it was my escape. I ran because it helped me physically run away from a life that I hated. For that 30-60 minutes a day, I could pretend my life was something that it wasn't. I could dream. I could pray. I could simply be.

I haven't run since. There was once, after E was born, when I thought "Hey, maybe I'll start running again...I could run with the stroller." But I wasn't ever <em>really</em> committed to it, so it didn't last long. I could always come up with a thousand excuses as to why I couldn't do it. It was too hot outside. The kids would scream and it wouldn't end up being a very good workout anyway. I was tired. I didn't sleep well. It was too cold outside. The list goes on and on and on.

But last week I bought new running shoes. And today I laced them up and headed out the door as soon as the hubs got home from work. I am committed to running again. But it's so different this time around. This time ... I'm running so that I can dream ... not about how to get out of the life I'm living, but about all the many things this life has given me - and all the many more to come.

I'm running because my dear friend is running a 5K in November in celebration of her "cancerversary" ... and I promised her I'd be there to run alongside her. She's been running throughout her chemotherapy treatment, so I'm sure she'll leave me in the dust, but a promise is a promise .... and I will meet her at the finish line!

I'm running because I'm about 20 pounds over what I would consider to be my "ideal" body weight. I'm not ashamed of that ... I've had two babies - I've given them my life for the last 5 years ... and I couldn't be more proud of that. I'm proud of my curves that allowed me to carry two babies through full-term pregnancies. Proud of the flabby tummy that had to be cut open twice to get those babies out. Proud of the somewhat saggy breasts that made milk that helped both my babies develop and grow in their earliest years. But I won't lie when I say I'd like to be a little thinner. I'd like to fit into the clothes that I own, as opposed to buying new ones. When I ran before, I looked (& felt) better than I ever had. I'm striving to look and feel great again.

I'm running because exercise does great things for our bodies. It helps our muscles get stronger. It helps the stress of our lives disappear - or at least helps us cope with it a little bit better. It helps us <em>feel good</em> about who we are, and how we are taking care of ourselves.

I'm running because ... let's be real for a second ... the shoes are damn cute. I got them on sale - and they are like walking on clouds. I'll run miles just to wear them a little longer.

I'm running because I live in the Boston area. And runners abound. And it makes me feel like I belong here - if even just for a moment.

But perhaps most importantly ... I'm running because it's an easy way to take care of myself. It fuels my creativity. It gives me some much-needed introvert time alone - where no one can ask me for anything, I don't have to clean up after anyone, or worry about what they are doing. I can walk out the door, across the street, and just run. And when I come back, I'm a much better mama, a much better wife, and a much better person.

I'm not a huge fan of "New Year's Resolutions" because I think you can make a change any time of your life - not just in January. So today ... on August 1 ... I'm putting that theory into action. I'm making a change.

Here's to a healthier, happier, more reflective life. 

Orecchiette with Slow Roasted Tomatoes and Baby Kale [Meals Under $15]

Happy Monday! Today’s edition of “Meals under $15” is perfect for your Meatless Monday dinner plans. Coming in at just over $5, and full of flavor, you cannot go wrong with this dish. My tiniest one devoured it, and begged for more!

Lately I have done a terrible job of meal planning, so most meals end up being thrown together with whatever I can find in the fridge. It’s my least favorite way to cook, and it’s hardly ever economical. But this piece of work … it was delicious, used up ingredients in my fridge, and still managed to cost us very little money.

I love orecchiette pasta – they look like little hats and they are so fun to eat! They have little ridges on them too, so they soak up whatever sauce you put on them amazingly. You could use any other pasta as well, this just happened to be what was in my pantry.

You can also edit it a little by adding spinach or arugula instead of baby kale, and if you don’t have cherry tomatoes on hand, or you don’t want to slow roast your own, you can substitute sun-dried tomatoes.

Orecchiette with Slow Roasted Tomatoes and Baby Kale

Orecchiette with Slow Roasted Tomatoes and Baby Kale

Yield: 4
Author:

Ingredients

  • 2 Tbsp olive oil ($0.25)
  • 2 cloves garlic, minced ($0.10)
  • 1/3 lb cherry tomatoes, slow-roasted ($1.50)
  • 3 Tbsp dry white wine ($0.54)
  • 1 Tbsp salt
  • 3/4 lb Orecchiette pasta (or other pasta of your choice) ($1.50)
  • 2 cups baby kale ($1.50)
  • small pinch of red pepper flakes

Instructions

  1. Bring a large pot of water to boil. While the water is heating, heat the olive oil in a saute’ pan. Add the garlic and cook until light golden brown. Add the tomatoes and the wine, bring to a boil, and let simmer for just a couple of minutes. After 1-2 minutes, remove the pan from the heat.
  2. Add the 1 Tbsp salt and the orecchiette to the boiling water. Cook for one minute less than the package instructions call for. When there are two minutes left, add the kale to the water with the pasta. Just before the pasta is done, carefully ladle 2 Tbsp of the cooking water into the pan with the tomatoes. Add a small pinch of red pepper flakes (or more if you like things spicy).
  3. Drain the pasta and kale in a colander and add it back to your pasta pot. Pour the sauce over the pasta and kale and mix well. Toss over medium heat for about 30 seconds, until the pasta is nicely coated.
  4. Serve with parmesan or pecorino cheese on the side.

TOTAL COST: $5.39

Breakfast Ice Cream

Years ago, I never ate breakfast. I’d wake up and drink coffee – sometimes grab a muffin or bagel – but usually I’d just wait until lunch. It’s a terrible habit, I know … but I just couldn’t bring myself to eat anything when I woke up.

But when I got pregnant with A, I had to eat. I would wake up starving, but usually wasn’t able to keep anything down. I soon discovered a new love of smoothies – it seemed if it was cold and full of fruit, I could sip it slowly and get some nutrients in me.

Until she was about three, A was never a big breakfast eater either. One thing we can always get her to eat, no matter the temperature or time of day, is ice cream. After several days of her begging for ice cream for breakfast, I decided I’d make a healthy version and see if it made her happy.

The verdict? She scraped the bowl clean! We’ve made this recipe (or a variation) many times in the last couple of years. I know it’s cold outside – but a little breakfast ice cream is quite possibly the best way to start your day. If you are feeling really adventurous, you could make waffles and have breakfast ice cream on top (or on the side … depending on your preference)!

Breakfast Ice Cream

Ingredients
1 cup frozen blueberries
1 cup frozen mango
1 frozen banana
1 1/2 cups pomegranate kefir or vanilla yogurt
2 Tbsp vanilla rice milk

Preparation
Put all ingredients in a heavy duty blender or food processor until smooth, adding your rice milk slowly. It should be the consistency of soft serve ice cream. To get to your desired consistency, add more or less rice milk. Enjoy!

NOTE: The trick to making an ice cream-like consistency is using frozen fruit. To successfully freeze bananas, take the peels off ripe bananas, break them in half, and freeze them in a single layer on a cookie sheet for 30 minutes. Then transfer to a ziplock bag or freezer-safe container and store in your freezer until you need them.

Finding Our Groove

All of a sudden we find ourselves in the second half of January. Our first six weeks in New England have been difficult - we've faced a terrible cold, followed by an incredibly long bout of the norovirus. We've experienced much emotional heartbreak over leaving our home and we've been struggling with our landlord over the state of our apartment. We've driven around to so many little towns where we think we can afford to purchase a home, made two offers on houses - neither of which worked out, and 95% of the time we end up feeling defeated. We are still not sure what our purpose is here yet ... but we are pretty damn confident God's in control of the situation.

This moving across country thing ... it's no joke. Especially when you have a family in tow. But there have been glimpses of hope. In fact, every single time we get down and out, God seems to throw us a tiny little light. It's as if God is saying, Stay the course. I will reveal it to you when the time is right. Just trust me. There's something theologically profound about the fact that we are living this beginning part of our journey in the seasons of Advent, Christmas, and Epiphany. The season of waiting - the season of immense joy that the Messiah has come - and then the season of more waiting. Waiting for that Messiah to really show himself and God's purpose and glory.

So the last few weeks I've been trying to keep my eyes open to the epiphanies. To those moments that God chooses to reveal a tiny glimpse of what might be in store for us. 

The weather has been beautiful, and we've only just experienced our first REAL snow and biting cold this past weekend. Just last week the girls and I managed to bundle up and walk the mile to our new chiropractor to get adjusted - even though the high was 29 and the wind made it feel like 15. Never in a million years did I think I would be outside with temperatures that low. But the sun was out and the reflection on the snow was oh so beautiful. And when we got home, we warmed up with hot drinks - apple cider for the girls and an essential oil tea for me.

We have found a church that we like, and although it's not completely what we ever hoped for or dreamed of (I mean - is there ever a place like that?), it is definitely the right place for us right now. It's full of families, they commune children whenever parents deem them to be ready, there's a children's sermon during the service, they don't mind that my children worship with us and dance to every song we sing, there's a women's book club that meets on Saturdays, and although we aren't completely happy with every aspect of it, our kids LOVE it ... and that is a huge deal for us.

There are SO MANY farms up here. The fresh food options are incredible, even in the bitter cold of January. As a family who really values local real food, we are so very pleased at the ease of eating healthy. Even the grocery stores here have better options than we had in Atlanta.

And on Sunday, when I was feeling at my what may have been my lowest point since moving here, I found myself having a conversation with another stay-at-home mom (I was beginning to think they didn't exist here)! I had cried on the way to church, fighting with God over what in the hell we are doing here, and then there she was. She has two children close in age to my own and - what do you know - is from East Tennessee and went to college in Atlanta. At the end of the conversation she gave me her phone number, and suggested we get together. I don't know if she knew what an answer to a prayer she was in that very moment.

So here we are, in the second half of January, finally finding our groove and making new routine. We're finally creating our new normal, and beginning to feel like this place is home. Although I still miss Atlanta and my people dearly, I'm finding that I actually can't imagine moving back. And when I take a step back and look at how far we've come in the last six weeks, I can see a little more clearly that God is here ... in our wandering ... every single step of the way.

Finding Jesus

I am, what some like to call, a cradle Lutheran. I was born into the Lutheran church and baptized in the ELCA when I was a mere 4 months old. I don't remember missing many Sundays. We would go early for Sunday school and stay for worship, where we would sit with my mom and Grandma and best friend's family. My dad never went with us, but he never did much with us, so we didn't think much of it.

As we got older, our moms sang in the choir while we sat in the congregation on our own. I don't remember much about the messages in church back then - probably because we were too busy passing notes - but I do remember the service. The routine. The ritual. The sacredness.

I hated it. 

I wanted something more fun - more upbeat - more emotional. I wanted something "powerful" - something that would hit my heart ... the way camp always did. A place where I would have lots of friends that accepted me as I was - a nerdy, book-loving, quiet, musical girl. A place where I would gain confidence to really be the person God had created me to be. Maybe if our church was a little bigger ... but there were only a handful of kids my age there.

So in high school, taking my confirmation promises seriously, I "left" the Lutheran church for the first (of what would end up to be several) time of my life. I went to youth group at one of the huge Baptist churches in the small town I grew up in. It was in that Baptist youth group that I was introduced to a personal commitment to Jesus. Later in my life, I realized that personal commitment is also called "discipleship," but back then all I knew was "commitment." I learned about the importance of a daily quiet time. I encountered my first "altar call" - where everyone was invited to kneel at the altar and repent, asking Jesus to come into their hearts and save them. I made so many friends - I found myself getting to know the "in crowd" - and I finally felt accepted ... and maybe even a little cool.

But I will never forget the day the youth pastor took me aside and asked me if I was ready to be baptized into the church. I would love to have a picture of my face in that moment - I can imagine that I looked at him as if he had three heads. But I'm already baptized, I told him. I was baptized when I was a baby. And, I even affirmed that baptism in my confirmation. I'm not sure what his actual reply was, but here's what I heard - That baptism wasn't real. You have to make a personal commitment to Jesus, and THEN get baptized.

I left that night, never to return.

Now, some 20 years later, I can see how that Baptist youth group made a huge impact in my faith life. I see the beautiful things it taught me - how to pray, how to sit and listen, how to read my Bible and talk to God. Not only did it teach me how to do those things - but it taught me just how much I needed those things ... not for salvation's sake, but for my own sanity.

Now, I can see how that youth pastor probably wasn't trying to challenge my salvation or push me away, but was honestly trying to live out his calling as a youth pastor. He believed something different than me - and although it was a negative experience at the time, that experience helped me understand my baptism and confirmation in a way I hadn't prior to that conversation. His somewhat innocent challenge made me, in that moment, incredibly confident in the theology of the Lutheran church that I had grown up in. That challenge to my infant baptism made me realize that I did, in fact, know Jesus ... and that Jesus knew me too.

This post was originally written in response to Chapter Two of Sarah Bessey's book, Out of Sorts.