Making Papa Proud

Yesterday I ran the Bank of America Chicago Marathon.  It was my third marathon and second time running the Chicago.  I ran for the American Diabetes Association in honor of my grandmother, second cousin and father.

Training went pretty well (except the 5 weeks I didn't run at all smack dab in the middle of training) and I was injury free walking up to the start line.

The emotions of race day always surprise me, I'm never prepared for the adrenaline that floods my body and turns all the memories of Papa and Grandma Collier into motivational energy.

To hear people yell my name, total strangers cheering for me and encouraging me--tears flood my eyes just remembering it.  I've never run a better course than the Chicago Marathon...the fans alone make it the best in my book.  I love running through this city I've fallen in love with over the past five years, seeing neighborhoods that I've rarely ventured into, taking to the streets by foot instead of in stop-and-go traffic.  I love it.  This is my city.

My official time was: 4:48.45

Which in comparison to my previous two marathons is much faster!  Happy to finally have broken through the 5 hour barrier!


Check out my before and after pics...

My running pose

Running for Papa (after this photo I had "33" written between straps
it was an honor running with Papa's jersey number on my back)

Getting ready to line up!

After the race...before the shower!

I ran with "PAPA" written on the inside of my left wrist and when I felt weak, I'd look down at it and know he was with me.  I gave it a kiss a few times when I was really struggling.  I also wrote "Isaiah 40:31" on my arm, it's the reference for the Bible verse that has gotten me through training the past few months

But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength, they will soar on wings like eagles, they will RUN AND NOT GROW WEARY, they will walk and not faint.

When the pain got overwhelming (physical or emotional) I'd look at my arm and remind myself of God's faithfulness and provision.  He was giving me strength

I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me
Philippians 4:13

And on my right arm, I wrote "Making Papa Proud" as this was a two-fold reminder that both my earthly and heavenly father are SO proud of what I've done.  Seeking Him and giving Him the glory, knowing I couldn't take one step without Him.

On the course I saw a girl who was also running in memory of her father and the back of her shirt said, "If my father were still here he'd say that nothing is ever easy." I ran right up to her and said, "If my father were still here, he'd say the exact same thing."

I saw a blind runner with 2 guide runners.  There were mother/son, mother/daughter, big sis/little sis teams, people running for cancer, aids, animals, clean water, starving children, autism, and a host of other things.

A few of my favorite signs from the course:

Watch out, Team Diabetes is out for blood
Do epic $#!t
Pain is temporary, quitting is forever
Courage to start, faith to finish
Don't poop (out)
If Britney Spears made it through 2007, you can make it through 26.2
I like your stamina...call me
My pace or yours?
My sport is your sport's punishment
Mckayla is NOT Impressed (with Mckayla Maroney's pic from the Olympics)
Why is this parade moving so fast and where are all the floats? Worst parade ever!
I'm proud of you complete stranger (to which I yelled "I"m a stranger!!")
Your high school gym teacher would be so proud!

A big HUGE shootout to E for being my race-day sherpa, for waking up super early and getting me where I needed to be, praying with me and coordinating the cheering section.  Couldn't do it without you E.  Never would have made it through 2010 if you hadn't walked the last 6 miles with me. Wouldn't have made it through today if I didn't know people were out there rooting me on.  And also, thanks for keeping Mama Cin informed...she (and I) really appreciate it!

Thanks to everyone who braved the cold and came out to cheer--you guys are rockstars!  Love you all!

And finally, thanks to everyone who has donated, prayed, encouraged and supported me through my crazy adventures.  You sure know how to make a girl feel loved.

#ownchicago

If you'd like to donate to the American Diabetes Association, it's not too late, click here!

10 Years

On this day 10 years ago, my life changed forever.  I was sitting in the basement of the house I worked in, rocking Destiny to sleep.  See, I was the nanny for triplet infants.  They were 5 months at the time.  The guy I was dating (who just happened to be the triplets uncle) walked around the corner and I could tell he'd been crying.

"Papa?" I asked.

He just nodded.

He couldn't speak.

Neither could I.

The rest is kind of a fog.

I remember getting up and hugging him.  We walked upstairs and my boss, the triplets mom, gave me a hug, said "take as much time as you need."

As she walked us out to the car she nudged me.  At that point I realized I was still holding Destiny.  I handed her over and said, "take good care of them."  Which seems silly now...telling a mom to take good care of her kids...but at the time it made total sense to me.

As boyfriend drove us home I thought of all the things I needed to do...call my professors and tell them I wouldn't be in school the next few days.  It was a Tuesday.  I remember that.

I talked to Mom and Papa on the phone Monday nights.  The previous night Papa hadn't been up for talking much.  I had just been home the previous weekend.  Mom had called that Friday I think and said to come home.  I flew home and spent the weekend showing Papa all I had learned so far in baking school.  I decorated a cake with every flower and every design I'd managed to master in the first two weeks of school.  As I left Sunday afternoon, I asked Papa if I should stay.  He said "I don't want to see your face until next weekend-you need to get back to school!"  I called again when I was at the airport, "Are you sure I should leave?" I asked through tears.  "Go, I'm fine.  I love you sweetheart." Papa responded.

I went.  And two days later Papa passed.

He was at home, with Mom and Ali.  Oh, and Shauman, the family dog.

As boyfriend and I drove the 5 hours to Mom and Papa's house I made the calls I needed to make, sat in shock, cried, and said ridiculous things like, "If Papa knew, he would just die!" Then cry again because Papa had in fact died.

Mom asked if I wanted to see him before the funeral director came to get him.  I said "no."  I had a good last memory of Papa and I didn't want that replaced.

Boyfriend and I arrived pretty late at night to a house that no longer seemed like the one I knew and loved.  It was cold, still and felt empty.

Papa was the biggest personality in our house, and that's saying something.

Home hasn't felt like home in 10 years.  When I go visit my mom, I still listen for the sound of slippers shuffling along the wood floor on the way to the kitchen.  I miss the sound of crushed ice hitting the sides of his thin plastic red cup.  The single cough that broke the silence every few minutes is no longer heard.

Skinny ankels emerging from elastic banded sweatpants.  A farmer's tan that never faded.  Newspapers neatly stacked in the recycle basket.  A pimped out minivan in the driveway.  One of everything ever made, and two of some taking up the garage.  A sic-fi/fantasy book collection that rivals some bookstore's. A beard that could resemble Kenny Rogers, Santa Calus or Jerry Garcia.  A smile that showed life had been simultaneously full of heartache and joy.  Love that goes to the moon and back for the three of us kids.  A rough exterior hiding a gentle and loving heart, hurt too many times to count.  Desire to protect loved ones from anything and everything no matter the cost.  

Papa was not perfect.  He told me regularly that he didn't want me to end up like him.  Some apples don't fall far from the tree...I'm the one the tree couldn't shake.  He knew I was in for a tough life if I followed in his path as I was set to do...but that's a different story...

The days that followed Papa's death were agonizing.  As we sat to write the obituary, the phone rang and the caller asked for Papa.  I broke down and handed the phone to Mom.  This was going to be hard.

And it's still hard 10 years later.  Some people say time heals all wounds.  I disagree.  When you love someone deeply and unconditionally, all the time in the world won't erase the pain of that loss.

Today, I'll eat cake.  I'll cry a little.  And reminisce a lot.  I can't believe its been 10 years already, though somedays it feels like 100.

Advice

I have been reflecting a lot lately (fall just naturally seems like a great time to reflect) and something I've been really thinking about is all the great advice I've been given over the years.  Here are just a few knowledge-bombs that people have dropped:

As a pastry chef, I had one boss who saw me through the hardest years of my life.  Constantly checking in on me, giving me a break when I needed it, and acting more as a mentor/cool advice giving uncle than a typical boss. He gave me some of the best advice I've ever received...he pulled me aside one day, and though shaking like a leaf (a sign he was about to say something that was going to be hard for me to hear)  he said, "Linsey, you always say 'I can't handle this!' You're an adult...your job is to figure out a way to handle it.  You can't get by on that anymore."  I hear his voice in my head at times I find myself wanting to throw my arms in the air and shout, at nobody in particular, "I can't handle this!" His words have seen me through a lot of rough times, and I am forever thankful that he cared enough about me to sit me down for a hard conversation and tell me it was time to grow up.

My current boss has told the girls "make very few promises, and keep them all."  Which is a very good motto to live by. The Bible says:

Matthew 5:36-37:

And do not take an oath by your head, for you cannot make one hair white or black. ³⁷ Let what you say be simply ‘Yes’ or ‘No’; anything more than this comes from evil.

James 5:12

Above all, my brothers and sisters, do not swear—not by heaven or by earth or by anything else. All you need to say is a simple “Yes” or “No.” Otherwise you will be condemned.

And finally, Papa (my father) must have said a million times to me as I was growing up, "Life is not fair.  The sooner you learn that, the easier your life will be."  And I'm reminded of that constantly.  If life was fair, I would have hung on that cross and not Him.

Here is Citizen Way's new song "Should've Been Me"

I Need A Miracle

Third Day's new song, I Need A Miracle could be the story of my life.  Every time I hear it I'm thrown back to my "pre-Jesus" days.

I lost my father when I was 22.

When I was 24 I started dating a guy and four months later I found out I was 8 weeks pregnant.  What?!  I was on birth control, how did this happen?  I guess someone has to be the 1% right?  Well, this time it was me.

We went to the doctor and heard the heartbeat.  It started setting in...I was really going to be a mom.  The guy I was dating was amazing, and he was as excited as I was.

Then, at the 12 week check-up, there was no heartbeat.  Miscarriage.  What!?  How could this be?  I was in shock.  How could this happen? My body was holding onto the fetus even though it was no longer alive so I went in for a D&C which was the worst experience of my life.

I will never, as long as I live, forget the feeling of complete despair that set in as I started to come-to in the recovery room.  I was so distraught, they broke hospital rules and allowed my boyfriend to come in and calm me down because the nurses were unable to.

For the next few months I cried.  All the time.  I sat and cried.  My boyfriend didn't know what to do with me.  He would drive me to a different point on beautiful Lake Coeur d'Alene each evening and sit next to me as I sobbed.

I remember being mad.  I'd never experienced such anger.  And it wasn't focused anger, I would yell that the trees were ugly and stupid and I HATED them.  And how was I supposed to go to work tomorrow if I didn't have nail polish remover to remove the chipping polish?  Why didn't anyone understand that I couldn't explain how I felt or why I felt that way?

I was at the end of me.

I needed a miracle.

That's when I finally recognized that I couldn't do this alone.  All my life I said Christianity was just an excuse for sad people with miserable lives to feel better because "everything happens for a reason" and "He won't give you more than you can handle." Well, I didn't consider myself a sad person with a miserable life, but I needed something.  Something besides myself to make all of this pain worth it.

I needed a miracle.

It was all worth it somehow, if there was a greater purpose.

The one-two punch of losing my dad and losing my baby was just too much to deal with if it didn't mean anything.

I needed a miracle.

I told myself that if Papa were still alive, I could cope with the loss of my baby.  Or if I hadn't lost the baby, I'd be able to continue dealing with the loss of my father.

I simply couldn't carry on doing both.

I needed a miracle.

God showed up in my life.  And when people ask how I know God exists, I don't immediately point to the Bible.   I tell them instead about how I was a lost child, looking for the comfort of my father's arms which I thought I'd never feel again; after all, my earthly father was gone.  What I found instead was truly a miracle.  I found a Father who not only created me but also loves me so much more than my earthly father ever could--and I didn't know that was possible.  I found forgiveness, mercy, grace and salvation.

I found Jesus.

And that was a miracle.

Remembering...

It's the 11 year anniversary of the largest terrorist attack on US soil.  Who could ever forget 9/11/2001? I certainly won't.  I was living in Denver at the time, my dad (Papa) called and screamed into the phone "there are planes flying into buildings!!!" I freaked out...I thought he meant in Seattle, where my family lives.  Soon enough, the tv was on and I was glued to the coverage for the next several hours, days, weeks...just like every other American.

As unforgettably horrible as that day was, remembering the one year anniversary in 2002 is almost just as hard.  I was staying at my parent's house, taking care of Papa while Mom was back in school (I come from a family of teachers) and though I lived across the state, I put my life on hold to spend time with my incredibly sick father.  We spent days watching tv on his bed, talking, sitting on the porch swing watching the birds at the feeders, listening to the numerous wind chimes Papa had hung around the deck.  It was a time I will never forget.

On September 11, 2002 Papa was nearing the end but he still loved watching his tv.  He normally had the bedroom tv tuned into The Food Network, while the kitchen tv was turned to a local station so when he made his way out for a snack or to refill his water cup, he was treated to local news, soap operas or in the afternoon-Judge Judy.  This was his routine, and if you've ever met me, or my father, you know that messing with our routine makes us about as happy as a cat in water.

This day though, The Food Network wasn't airing the regularly scheduled programming.  It was showing a solid color screen with a sentence or two recognizing the events of the previous year.  I clearly remember Papa's reaction: I know it's important to remember, but come on already, lets get on with it.  Where are my shows?

Finally he changed the channel and we joined the rest of the world as Peter Jennings, or Tom Brokaw took us minute by minute through the events that were still so fresh in our minds, and we listened as they spoke comforting words to a hurting nation still looking for answers to the unimaginable.

Every few minutes the tv would flip over to the still screen of The Food Network and quickly back again.  "By noon" Papa thought, "Surely, by noon they'll have the normal shows back on the air." We spent the day that way...sitting next to each other on the bed, watching the buildings fall all over again, listening to each victim's name read, still trying to wrap our minds around what our eyes had seen and our brains had been replaying for the past year.  Wondering when The Food Network would feel it had appropriately recognized the anguish and terror our country had been through and would put Rachel Rae on so we could learn how to make yet another meal in 30 minutes.

Certainly 9-11-2001 is a date that will never be forgotten.  But so is 9-11-2002.  For me anyway.

Today, I remember the 11th anniversary of 9/11.  But part of me uses it as a marker of time...if this is the 11th anniversary of 9/11, then we're approaching the 10 year anniversary of Papa's death.  Just a few weeks after Papa and I mourned the events of the previous year, I lost my Papa.

As a nation we come together today and mourn the lives that were ended that day, we cherish the heroes who ran in when everyone else ran out.  And we admire the brave who took it upon themselves to prevent even further destruction.  We acknowledge that in some way, big or small, it changed all of us, it changed our country, and the world as we knew it.

Personally, I begin the hardest few weeks of the year--the weeks leading up to the anniversary of Papa's death.  And though he slipped quietly away in his own peaceful bedroom, and the anniversary of his passing doesn't garner world wide attention or prevent networks from showing their normal programs, the loss of my father stopped my world as I knew it and has forever changed the course of my life.

Praying God's comfort and peace on this hurting nation and world.
He is the ultimate healer and comforter.