tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-79561128493126269932012-02-09T18:35:22.410-08:00"Keep walking, though there's no place to get to." --Rumistephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.comBlogger1121100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-77387803261226133052012-02-07T14:11:00.000-08:002012-02-07T14:32:54.085-08:00

I am grateful. I mean it. Truly, truly grateful. Unfortunately, I forgot it for awhile. And chances are, I will forget it again at some point in the near future. But right now, in this moment, I am grateful.  For the big blessings, beauty in the natural world, the gift of love, all the little things, and even the hard stuff.  This isn't an easy place to get to when you are feeling ungrateful.

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-22541827571491644892012-01-23T13:10:00.000-08:002012-01-23T13:10:42.188-08:00

"Then the LORD will create over all of Mount Zion and over those who assemble there a cloud of smoke by day and a glow of flaming fire by night; over everything the glory will be a canopy. It will be a shelter and shade from the heat of the day, and a refuge and hiding place from the storm and rain." Isaiah 4:5-6 Almost every run in my short history of running has started on this street in 

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-33560449626435265192012-01-16T17:23:00.000-08:002012-01-16T17:23:01.569-08:00

I turned thirty-nine yesterday. I have never been a fan of birthdays that end with the number nine so needless to say, I was dreading this one. I just don't like the idea of teetering on the end of a decade. I'd rather just jump in to the new one. The sense of dread was probably compounded by the fact that I just don't think thirty-eight was my finest year. I worked hard and took care of a lot 

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-4934492409127398642011-12-30T13:45:00.000-08:002011-12-30T13:45:23.488-08:00

This blog comes to you today from the narrow space between a rock and a hard place. At least, it feels like that is where we are. My goal for the next month is to not grow bitter about this place. I won't complain about how dark and cold it feels, but I will make an effort to scoot into the light. You guys may need to remind me to scoot over sometimes and let you sit down. I will try to remember

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-70906103481784028872011-12-23T18:48:00.000-08:002011-12-23T18:48:58.215-08:00

Earlier this month I wrote about waiting. I went on and on about waiting with hope and peace. Then a couple of days ago I shared what I still consider to be an incredibly valuable video on a talk about vulnerability. And of course, I made this public proclamation of sorts on the value of vulnerability. I vowed to myself to seek to live in a way that is more wholehearted, walking through the good

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-34150627551741739622011-12-21T10:42:00.000-08:002011-12-21T10:44:10.401-08:00

I love watching TED Talks and reading Don Miller's take on walking in this world. If you haven't done either, here is your chance to do both. I encourage you to watch Brene Brown's talk on vulnerability. She is incredibly wise, insightful, cheeky, and accessible. Then read Don's take on the talk. He is also insightful and completely transparent. I needed both of their words this week. Fear has

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-81720606580871384042011-12-13T20:30:00.000-08:002011-12-13T20:33:53.209-08:00

I have a confession to make. I have a tendency to read sad books, watch sad movies, and listen to sad songs when I am already sad. There, I said it. I'm that girl. Everyone knows her. You might even be her. There is a series of young adult books by Lurlene McDaniel that were popular with many (meaning most) of my female students when I was teaching. I called them the "death books" because

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-19271483412194267042011-12-06T17:49:00.000-08:002011-12-06T17:57:41.568-08:00

I finally did something today I have wanted to do, planned to do, often thought about doing, but for whatever reason, just never did. I signed up to sponsor a child through Compassion. I have sponsored a child before as part of a group, but this is the first time my husband and I have a sponsored child to call our own. We needed this. We try very hard to make sure that we are making our world

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-69624431408668877902011-12-05T17:59:00.000-08:002011-12-05T17:59:22.232-08:00

I read a lot of blogs. And when I say a lot, I mean a LOT. Mainly, just because I think that other than personal experience, there is no better way to learn than through what other people share about their own experiences. As people, it makes sense that we learn the most when we engage with other people. I want to start making a habit of sharing more of the great words I regularly read. I hope 

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-83223438557537208152011-12-04T18:41:00.000-08:002011-12-04T18:41:12.825-08:00

This month, in celebration of Advent, our Sunday morning conversations have revolved around the theme of waiting. So far, specifically, what it means to wait with hope and wait with peace. It is a sticky subject, this idea of waiting. These past two Sundays have brought forth memories of specific moments in my life when I have had no choice but to wait. And "the waiting places" as Dr. Seuss

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-39604049059355660012011-11-26T10:40:00.000-08:002011-11-26T10:41:41.098-08:00

"It had been planted in good soil by abundant water so that it would produce branches, bear fruit and become a splendid vine." Ezekiel 17:8

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-83687819057660759932011-11-21T16:18:00.000-08:002011-11-21T16:18:26.444-08:00

from Sue Monk Kidd's When the Heart Waits: "…I sat beside her, unable to resist the feeling that we shared something, the two of us. The wounds and brokenness of life. Crumpled wings. A collision with something harsh and real. I felt like crying for her. For myself. For every broken thing in the world. That moment taught me that while the postures of stillness within the cocoon are frequently

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-15548368719117300912011-11-07T17:31:00.000-08:002011-11-07T17:46:45.804-08:00

I know I haven't blogged much lately, not that there hasn't been much to say. There has been a lot to say, but sometimes I know I need to do less commenting and more listening. This has been one of those seasons. I just needed to be quiet and listen to the people around me who were and are still hurting. To God whom I needed desperately to hear. And to that voice that I normally hear so clearly--

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-7497180149966015132011-10-04T14:03:00.000-07:002011-10-04T14:03:33.120-07:00

When I was marathon training, there were three letters that loomed like a dark cloud over every run: DNF. Did Not Finish. I began every run with the thought of those letters being attached to my name. Lining up on race day with months of training behind me, some of it quite lonely, I stood caught in the grip of fear, afraid my feet wouldn't even move for fear of not finishing. That fear very

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-78137455535234577302011-09-26T18:04:00.000-07:002011-09-26T18:12:31.797-07:00

Today marks the third week of my return to running. It was a hard run for several reasons, but today I was reminded that some days it is a holy act. It is prayer. It is penance. It is wholly difficult and altogether necessary. It brings to the surface more than sweat as a physical act of confession. Today, I remembered that for me, running is faith in motion when forward motion seems impossible.

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-63529907759290525642011-09-11T18:13:00.000-07:002011-09-11T18:13:11.142-07:00

Do you remember where you were? That is the question that has resonated all day today. Do you remember what you were doing? I can answer that question without hesitation, yes. Yes, I remember exactly where I was and what I was doing ten years ago on this day. It was a day like any other day for a first year teacher in September. I was staying one step ahead of the game. Or so I thought. The news

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-37864743088345383832011-09-06T19:23:00.000-07:002011-09-06T19:23:20.703-07:00

I went running this morning. I just couldn't help it. I mean, if you are going to go out and do something you haven't done in over four months, you might as well do it on a beautiful morning. So I did. And let me tell you, as far as runs go, this was a good one. It was slow because, well, to be quite honest, one would expect it to be after so much time off. And by off, I mean working incredibly

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-26014183483433068102011-08-15T15:17:00.000-07:002011-08-15T18:42:16.974-07:00

On Saturday, I got to stand at the edge of the Gulf of Mexico and feel the cool water wash over my feet. This was the first time I have stood on the sandy shore of the beach all summer and I didn't take it for granted. I hunted seashells with some people I love and whom I know without a doubt, love me just as much. I don't take them for granted either. We hunted shells and we gave each other our

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-9413646651766663962011-07-15T09:19:00.000-07:002011-07-15T09:19:37.640-07:00

I ask a lot of questions. I always have, and hopefully always will. Lately, those questions have all begun with What if...  I like What if...questions. I believe any kind of change, whether personal or global, takes root in someone asking What if... Here are a few of my mine: What if I acted like I truly believe God saved me and set me apart through His Son, Jesus Christ? What if I acted like

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-55442229189097136262011-07-13T14:52:00.000-07:002011-07-13T14:52:15.211-07:00

I have not been able to stop thinking today about how much my understanding of God has changed. Don't get me wrong here, I don't actually understand Him one bit.  In fact, the more my faith grows, the more mysterious He becomes. But I am learning more and more to appreciate the mystery. What I also keep thinking about is this: He never changed. But I did. The more I stop trying to bully my way

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-36862199564935052042011-07-12T12:45:00.000-07:002011-07-12T12:45:22.749-07:00

Maybe monks and poets know, as Jesus did when a friend, in an extrvagant, loving gesture, bathed his feet in nard, an expensive, fragrant oil, and wiped them with her hair, that the symbolic act matters; that those who know the exact price of things, as Judas did, often don't know the true cost or value of anything. from The Cloister Walk by Kathleen Norris

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-56568024331599581492011-06-29T16:00:00.000-07:002011-06-29T16:04:13.375-07:00

This morning I watched the sunrise. I just don't take the time to do this enough. To truly watch the day blossom right before my eyes. I watched this daily miracle unfold through the windshield of my car as I made my way through early morning traffic in Houston. I was on my way to pray with a friend and then wait as many other loved ones did today in hospitals everywhere for whatever is broken

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-11591691173009258312011-06-07T15:17:00.000-07:002011-06-07T15:34:15.898-07:00

When I began working on my master's in counseling, I was taught that when counseling a client, a professional should Do no harm. A relatively simple concept. Short and to the point. It is a directive, not a request. It is not conditional and needs no qualification. Do no harm. I've been thinking about this maxim lately. Mainly because I have seen an incredible amount of harm done. I'm fully

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-72656256905476842472011-05-18T13:24:00.000-07:002011-05-18T13:47:02.193-07:00

As I was sitting in my study this morning doing some planning for the summer, I looked over at a small dish that sits on the side table. That dish holds several rocks I picked up here and there, a few pieces of seaglass from beach trips, and a rusty nail with a bit of green paint on the end. I picked up the nail to look at it and was flooded with a wash of warm emotion. I picked up that nail

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-15856500204820411012011-04-26T15:27:00.000-07:002011-04-27T06:52:43.433-07:00

It seems lately that every time I run, I am  "coming back" to running. I haven't run much at all the last couple of months and before that, I trained for a half mary, and even then my running was inconsistent.  As was my diet, my rest, and pretty much everything else I depend on to make the rest of my life better. I have been incredibly busy and that's not a bad thing, but I realized this weekend

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-80011268271820496362011-04-11T18:18:00.000-07:002011-04-12T06:20:08.328-07:00

Call me a nerd, but I get really excited over stuff a lot of people might just shrug their shoulders at. I've been known to do a happy dance when I see a Bluejay at my bird feeder. Or clap my hands when I see a beautiful butterfly. I still gasp at rainbows and have been known to get eye level with a giant slug to try to get a picture of its face. I just think nature is amazing and I hope I never

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-7901710340930004092011-04-06T07:34:00.000-07:002011-04-06T13:25:18.343-07:00

I found myself very thankful last night. While working on some projects, I received a call from a dear friend and former student--one of my favorite people. He wanted to run some thoughts by me about a project he is working on. He is in grad school at Kansas State and my heart swells when I think about where he is in life, what he is learning, who he is becoming, and whom  he is already

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-31808840232173727512011-04-04T11:44:00.000-07:002011-04-04T12:36:07.128-07:00

So here is some irony for you: I spent my whole life believing I was not artistic because I was the least artistic person in a family full of tremendous artists. You know, the kind of people who can see a picture in their head and then sit down and draw it. The kind of people who can sit down with an instrument and easily learn to play it. The kind of people who can sing like song birds and make

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-19546721017878785472011-03-30T07:46:00.000-07:002011-03-30T07:49:12.579-07:00

I went out of town for a couple of days last week and when I returned, I was amazed by all of the new growth on plants that had nothing but tiny buds on them when I left. Where before, there was just a hint of new growth, there were now, actual leaves. And not just a few. My Miniature Barbados Cherry shrubs were literally coverered in tender greeen leaves. The vegetable garden had actual tiny

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-70914594570165472702011-03-28T18:41:00.000-07:002011-03-28T18:41:34.709-07:00

For some reason, when I began my facebook hiatus, I thought I would start blogging more. I thought maybe people would miss me in the social network world, and so maybe they'd click their way over here and see what I was up to. I also thought I might talk to some of those people on the phone more. I did have one phone call from a dear old friend the very same day, but that was pretty much it. And

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-5486505755813161592011-03-15T09:43:00.000-07:002011-03-15T09:43:47.956-07:00

I'm in the process of recovering from the flu. I don't have a lot to say about it other than I still want to sleep a lot and the thought of eating meat makes me gag. And I still can't drink coffee which is making me sad because it was my favorite thing about waking up in the morning. I am tired. I get dizzy. And I am not a patient patient.

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-81043022303736211212011-03-09T14:59:00.000-08:002011-03-09T15:01:54.875-08:00

Unsettle me. These are words I read this morning. Words that slapped me smack in the face because they were words I needed to pray but hadn't yet --simply because I didn't know I needed them until I read them. They are simple words, the prayer of a woman who refused to go one step further the way she was: desperate, miserable, lonely, broken, clingy--All the things we don't want to be and wish

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-61136188803297376122011-03-03T18:21:00.000-08:002011-03-03T18:35:53.833-08:00

I had the great fortune to spend most of my day off today outside, working in the yard. I spent much of the day pruning back shrubs and weeding flowerbeds in preparation to plant some spring color and mulch. I take a lot of pleasure in cutting back plants after a harsh winter. This has not always been the case. I used to do it out of nothing more than necessity. I longed for all the lush greenery

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-91363826703913328892011-03-01T18:26:00.000-08:002011-03-01T18:26:28.170-08:00

I was thinking recently about how much I have changed in the past year. There hasn't been a whole lot of physical change other than the few pounds I gained back after I stopped marathon training (the same few pounds I am now actively trying to take back off without physically pounding or starving my body) and the length of my hair as I have attempted to grow it back out after my foray into the

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-37988059019484613122011-02-14T20:09:00.000-08:002011-02-14T20:09:37.077-08:00

I have never been a big fan of Valentine's Day. It has always felt a tad bit overly emphasized, too fabricated. Forced. Manic, even. People just seem to try to hard. And when I was younger, I was never on the receiving end of flowers or some sort of sweet romantic gesture from an admirer. I suppose if there was any admiring going on, it was happening very quietly and at a great a distance. I 

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-69463967873630821382011-02-07T19:03:00.000-08:002011-02-07T19:09:35.576-08:00

 I spent some time with my February calendar this evening and I realized just how incredibly full of activity this month is going to be. There is a lot going on, professionally and personally--and more and more those two distinctions are growing blurred. I've always known that one can't separate their ministry from their personal life or even their identity (as much as they may want to try

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-886969665360318782011-01-31T19:02:00.000-08:002011-01-31T19:02:57.617-08:00

I am in a season of vivid dreams. I'm not talking about the aspirational kind of dreams; I'm talking about head on the pillow, lost in sleep kind of dreams. This happens periodically and this bout started several weeks ago. I have always been a vivid dreamer. From  the time I was small, I would wake up sometimes giggling and giddy but more often than not, troubled and afraid. My dreams have

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-75573942081185864472011-01-29T18:38:00.000-08:002011-01-29T18:42:20.503-08:00

I went running with a friend not long ago and before we ever began, I felt the need to warn her about Philosophical Steph. She usually emerges late at night, perhaps during a stimulating conversation, or sitting by a campfire in the woods, or walking on the beach. But she is almost always guaranteed to make an appearance about three miles in to a good run. Maybe there's just something about

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-61958974756087123472011-01-24T17:45:00.000-08:002011-01-24T17:51:01.101-08:00

I haven't been thirty-eight very long. Not even ten days, in fact, but I think I'm going to get along pretty well with this number. I think its a pretty good number. One that says, "Hey, I've been around for a while now. You might want to listen because I could have something to say about this." But it also says "Hey, I'm still young enough to have fun, make some risky decisions, take some

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-71723654400742234572011-01-13T07:51:00.000-08:002011-01-13T07:51:21.395-08:00

I have a birthday coming up in a couple of days. When I was a kid, I hated having a birthday not only in the winter, but also right after Christmas. I heard things like "You can't have a party because it'll be cold and raining." or "This gift counts as Christmas and your birthday." No matter how untrue it was, in hearing that, I began to believe my day wasn't worth celebrating, that I wasn't

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-89434153723533075712011-01-03T18:23:00.000-08:002011-01-03T18:32:41.989-08:00

"Oh, may the Lord find in my heart today a highway made ready by His grace, one upon which He may make triumphal progress to the very limits of my soul from the beginning of this year to its very last day!"  --Charles Spurgeon Happy New Year. I say this to you with a certain sigh of relief. I'm not sure even I know all the reasons I'm glad to close the door on 2010, but one thing is sure, I

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-13312641977847603322010-12-06T19:36:00.000-08:002010-12-07T13:48:05.884-08:00

Every now and then I like to think back to where I was and what I was doing a year ago at this time. It just kind of helps me gain some perspective on where I was, where I am, and where I am going. And I have to say that it boggles my mind to think that this time last year I was recovering from a 16 miler that I ran on a Saturday morning...in the snow. It was an amazing morning. It was a morning

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-55940286357091456752010-12-03T13:25:00.000-08:002010-12-03T13:40:54.445-08:00

So here we are a little over a week out from Thanksgiving and I still find myself thankful. And I'm thankful for this thankfulness. I write this blog sitting in a room I can finally call my own. It is a room that I have purposed as a study. A room I've always wanted. It is filled with some of my favorite things: a table, a couple of cool old brown velvet wingbacked chairs, books (of course), and

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-80655519915471761102010-11-15T13:17:00.000-08:002010-11-15T14:49:31.036-08:00

I just spent an amazing and intense weekend at a retreat with a lot of teenagers. It was a weekend filled with revelation. A weekend full of relationship and sharing of hearts. We watched girls be girls to the very core of their feminine hearts.  Nurturing and lovely, able to see themselves and each other through eyes filled with joy and wonder, to see the beauty that God created us to be. We

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-80654710641420368632010-11-10T21:08:00.000-08:002010-11-10T21:08:22.296-08:00

I've been thinking a lot about choices lately. Mainly because it just seems that my husband and I have had so many to make the past several years. Some of them minor, but many of them big gamble, all or nothing kind of choices. I haven't always been a big fan of making choices. Don't ask me to choose a restaraunt, or even an item on a menu. You should see me try to pack for a trip. Or pack my

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-47994319921740970282010-10-31T17:24:00.000-07:002010-11-01T18:46:29.107-07:00

 We all need hope. And sometimes, we get to share it. Jamie Tworkowski is the founder of an organization called To Write Love on Her Arms that was created to be a beacon of light and hope for people who are drowning in the darkness and despair. Here is the story as Anne Jackson conveys it in her book, Permission to Speak Freely: Renee Yohe was ninteen years old when Jamie met her. And the night

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-67602056217942319722010-10-28T08:52:00.000-07:002010-11-01T19:02:51.175-07:00

There is something that happens in a person's life when they are given Permission to Speak Freely.  This is the title of a book by Anne Jackson that I just finished reading. It is a book about church and how often there is a lack of Church in churches. It is about how we all have these things in our lives, these shames and hurts that we carry. You know, the one thing you feel like you can't say

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-91960756941031374392010-10-25T12:12:00.000-07:002010-10-25T17:40:45.702-07:00

April 9, 2008 A great thing happened this evening.  I got to go for my first run in several weeks.  Somehow life had managed to just totally get in the way of the one thing that helps me work out the kinks—physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.  It was a short run, but long on reflection.  The first mile was nothing more than a reflection on my neglect of my body and an effort to

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-8829796445896291882010-10-25T12:01:00.000-07:002010-10-25T12:01:44.370-07:00

March 26, 2007 Fifteen ways to say I am blessed....Those who know me, know that I usually hide my true feelings behind sarcastic jokes and jabs, but forgive if I get a little mushy for a moment. There are times in a person's life when they stumble along not quite knowing why they are where they are doing what they do. And then there are times like Saturday. As I watched my students on stage, I

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-53403506892764239262010-10-25T11:26:00.000-07:002010-10-25T11:28:41.026-07:00

Today has been a cleaning out the closet kind of day. I'm in the midst of downsizing, streamlining, and organizing. There is power in having less stuff, less clutter to taking up all of our mental and physical space. In the midst of picking through the old stuff, I thought about my old myspace account--how I just left it out there abandoned to float around in cyberspace. Then I decided to delete

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-90158754920736389922010-10-15T10:53:00.000-07:002010-10-15T16:31:59.870-07:00

My run started a little late this morning. I had the intention of getting out there early. It just didn't happen. For whatever reason, I woke tired this morning. And feeling heavy. Not necessarily physically heavy, just a little weighted down in the head or heart. Maybe both, but I couldn't even tell. I didn't have the intention of running especially far or especially fast this morning so I

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-83660940791084342422010-10-05T18:55:00.000-07:002010-10-05T18:58:09.968-07:00

I've been thinking a lot about love today. But actually, moreso, about how I so often make a mockery of it. Don't get me wrong, I love people. A lot of people. And on a great day, all people. Even the mean ones. But more often than not, I love the ones who love me back. I love the ones most like myself. I love the ones who make my life more pleasant. Easier. And at some point in my life, not too

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-71284012779516292222010-09-28T07:44:00.000-07:002010-09-28T12:54:27.937-07:00

Yesterday was a good day. I awoke to crisp, dry Fall temperatures. It is my kind of weather. It makes me feel giddy and full of potential. It makes me want to cook hearty meals and open my windows. It makes me want to get out into the world and live life a little better than I previously had. It is change at the most basic level and it makes me want to change too. While I was running in the

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-1852469972206546562010-09-01T09:37:00.000-07:002010-09-01T12:25:07.398-07:00

I saw a butterfly this morning. I have been waiting for this butterfly to be born for awhile now. And when I went out to check on its Chrysalis this morning, there was the beautiful Black Swallowtail dangling from a parsley sprig, completely spent, exhausted from its emergence from what is now just an empty shell. It was beautiful. Beautiful simply in its exquisitely designed and detailed body,

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-12609518169761460002010-08-25T08:45:00.000-07:002010-08-25T16:25:20.130-07:00

"I need You like a hurricane/ Thunder crashing, wind and rain/ To tear my walls down/ I’m only Yours now" I remember watching the news not long after Hurricane Katrina devastated the Gulf Coast and having my attention caught by this beautiful mahogany skinned elderly woman. Her house had been completely demolished, literally scattered down the street. The reporter asked her how it made her feel

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-1135372155042358652010-07-22T08:48:00.000-07:002010-07-26T09:03:02.304-07:00

Like much of what I what write that isn't necessarily bloggish, I'm not sure what this is, but I'm keeping it here until I figure out what to do with it. There's something about finding an ending in a new beginning. A giving in. A letting go. A leaning into. An exhale. A shed tear. A hand held. A tumbling of words from a silenced mouth. A yes where you first heard no. A go when you first heard

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-43537346320940865702010-07-14T10:38:00.000-07:002010-07-15T06:05:59.120-07:00

One day I'm going to tell you a story and you may not want to believe that it is true. But you'll have to, because stories this good can't be made up.  And you'll see, if you've never seen before, the redemptive power of love and the ability it has to deliver us from evil and empower us to love with abandon. I would tell it to you now but I don't yet have the words. And for now, I like it that

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-61973629555931811872010-07-07T19:26:00.000-07:002010-07-07T19:26:49.828-07:00

I had a pretty mind blowing conversation with a friend today. She's a new friend who for whatever reason I already feel like I have a long history with. The conversation began on the phone and was continued via text--yes, I know, I've become that girl--but it was mindblowing nonetheless.  We were talking about the amazingness of friendship and acceptance--real acceptance--and how liberating it is

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-54355243888218559332010-06-06T19:04:00.000-07:002010-06-06T19:59:41.394-07:00

Friday night I had the privilege of watching my junior class from last year graduate. There is something especially touching about attending a high school graduation knowing that you taught and fostered some sort of relationship (not all of them, but most of them for the better) with every young person who walked across that stage. You find you have a lot invested in witnessing that rite of

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-56897176127116668592010-05-14T07:50:00.000-07:002010-05-14T07:58:15.356-07:00

1. The way I sill sometimes let other people's problem influence my own happiness. 2. My relationship with my body. 3. My relationship with food. 4. The way I handle stress or conflict. 5. The amount of time I devote to media. 6. The way I still sometimes let people treat me. 7. My relationship with material possessions and money. 8. My self talk. 9. The amount of unnecessary stress I allow in my

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-33181503835773374722010-05-11T19:22:00.000-07:002010-05-11T19:22:28.430-07:00

1. Six pack abs. 2. Playing it safe. 3. Walking on the wild side. 4. Religiosity. 5. Day planners. 6. Perfectly manicured lawns. 7. Television. 8. Going it alone. 9. Perfect hair. 10. First place...in pretty much any contest.

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-78684823749924706602010-05-11T12:11:00.000-07:002010-05-11T12:11:39.206-07:00

1. My God 2. My health. 3. My husband. 4. My home. 5. My education. 6. My freedom. 7. My job. 8. Forgiveness. Extended and received. 9. Experience that has made me a better person. 10. A few people who love me beyond reason.

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-64764693825371643082010-05-09T18:32:00.000-07:002010-05-09T18:32:06.157-07:00

1. Plank. 2. Floss. 3. Check my credit score. 4. Say "I love you." 5. Say "I'm sorry." 6. Turn the other cheek. 7. My nails. 8. Sing with my eyes closed. 9. Stare at the sky. 10. Chuck caution to the wind.

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-50733580845238568502010-05-07T09:10:00.000-07:002010-05-07T09:11:01.989-07:00

1. Hold a snake: Not even some humongous Python. I'm talking a little bitty ol' Grass snake. 2. Skydive: It would have to be tandem because I'm afraid I would "forget" to pull the chute cord. 3. Bungee jump: but someone would have to push me. 4. Go mountain climbing: my last experience on a rock wall didn't end well. 5. Cliff jump: preferably not a belly flop. 6. Go on a cross country trip

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-17276745898859342472010-05-05T13:11:00.001-07:002010-06-06T19:49:34.270-07:00

When I think about all of the places I've run, most of them haven't been that exciting. They are places where I ran because I happened to be there and I needed to run.  But if I had my way, I'd run in all of the places I'd love to get to know.  And there is no other way to really get to know a place than putting one foot in front of the other on it's land.  There is a common theme in these places

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-88704366351391939502010-05-04T19:51:00.001-07:002010-06-06T19:49:34.232-07:00

1. The internet: I could google for a living and I facebook like it is my job. 2. Reorganizing my blog 3. Reorganizing my phone. 4. Plucking my eyebrows. 5. Counting things: Lines on paper, tiles on the floor, my blessings, calories, etc. 6. Imagining alternate endings to major events in my life. 7. Doodling: I'm a doodler from way back. 8. Playing hair and makeup. 9. Rearranging the front of the

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-56350232191466326602010-05-04T12:12:00.000-07:002010-05-04T12:12:42.454-07:00

1. Procrastinate. 2. Get caught up in perfectionism. 3. Compare myself to other people: I rarely do this anymore, but still catch myself every now and then. 4. Sweep stuff under the rug: Usually just figuratively. 5. Think too much. 6. Worry: When I'm not doing number four. 7. Touch my face or my hair too much. 8. Chew my cuticles: it replaced biting my nails. 9. Think about food way too much:

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-80318920693611985252010-05-03T10:01:00.000-07:002010-05-03T10:01:54.503-07:00

1. Skunk: First sniff, "Ewww." Second sniff: "Mmmmm..." 2. Cake with buttercream icing. 3. Strong coffee brewing: This can right most wrongs in my world. 4. Freshly mowed grass. 5. Onions, bell pepper, and celery cooking: The beginning of all kinds of great meals. 6. Bait shops. 7. The feed store. 8. Sweet feed: Reminds me of my pony Harvey. I fed him and myself from the bucket. 9. Approaching

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-78532972412435788132010-05-02T06:43:00.000-07:002010-05-02T06:43:06.327-07:00

1. Growing up. 2. Graduation day: High school and college. 3. Climbing a mountain. 4. Running a marathon. 5. Losing a significant amount of weight. 6. Pretty much any relationship I've been in. 7. Everytime I write. 8. The end of a good meal. 9. A couple of different times when I've gotten lost and found something better than what was at the end of where I was going. 10. Reading a good book:

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-72946479059372617852010-05-01T06:17:00.000-07:002010-05-01T06:17:37.781-07:00

The following things drive me crazy. I have been guilty of several of them at some point in my life. 1. The sound of people eating ice. 2. The repeated sound of popping gum. 3. Men with deep voices who talk too loudly. 4. The sound of styrofoam being cut or pretty much manipulated in anyway. 5. Cars with bass so loud they can be heard before they are seen. 6. People (women) who use "I'm sorry"

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-6425941668492582102010-04-30T07:47:00.000-07:002010-04-30T07:50:05.285-07:00

Disclaimer: I am not self-centered, narcissistic, or egotistical. In fact, I am probably quite the opposite. I am hard on myself. According to people who know me well, too hard. But I am changing. In fact, my self talk voice is finally becoming a voice that doesn't make me wince when she speaks. So in celebration of all things positive, I am going to share ten things I love about myself. 1. My

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-76886220707080741412010-04-29T13:12:00.000-07:002010-04-29T13:12:13.531-07:00

Today I am sharing ten of the many people I wish I could sit down and have a chat with. I am sticking with the ones who are still alive, but I haven't met. I am interested in people--all kinds of people--so narrowing it down to ten was not an easy task. 1. Nelson Mandela: I did a report over him my Sophomore year of high school and he is still high on the list of people I admire. 2. Anne Lamott:

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-60072943414069116792010-04-28T18:41:00.000-07:002010-04-28T18:41:39.911-07:00

So as suggested by my friend Ramona, here are ten of my favorite movie moments. I like movies A LOT so narrowing it down was hard. I just went with the ones I thought of first. I apologize in advance that so many of them involve Eighties teen movies. I was angsty and John Hughes happened to have his finger on the pulse of my generation: 1. Ferris Bueller on the parade float. 2. Claire giving

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-78252877794937810242010-04-27T19:05:00.000-07:002010-04-27T19:06:19.905-07:00

Here is a list of ten recommended by my friend Leslie. When I started thinking about it, there are specific words that hurt me when they are spoken, but there are also words that hurt me when I think about them because of what they represent. 1. Any word yelled in anger. 2. "Shut-up" 3. Hate. 4. Judgment. 5. Indifference. 6. Disgust. 7. "Whatever" 8. Rejection. 9. Lie. 10. Silence.

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-62581135195776005602010-04-26T07:42:00.000-07:002010-04-26T07:42:34.147-07:00

Eek! Here it goes...I'm putting it out there....not all of it. Just some of it that you may not know. 1. I was a bed wetter until about the age of ten. 2. I often slept with my baton when I was a child. 3. I still periodically give Oscar acceptance speeches in the bathroom mirror. 4. I sometimes have "closure" conversations in my head with people I never got to have closure with in person. 5. I

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-30368849765533984252010-04-25T11:07:00.000-07:002010-04-25T11:07:39.621-07:00

1. Sit and stare at large bodies of water. Or float in said water. 2. Get lost in a good book. 3. Sit very quietly in a church or museum. Often, they seem the same to me. 4. Listen to live music. Any kind of music, as long as it is live. 5. Hang out with friends, preferably eating good food and listening to good music. 6. Dig in the dirt. 7. Linger over coffee or tea. 8. Dance. 9. Walk in the

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-55236312214708603812010-04-24T07:14:00.000-07:002010-04-24T07:14:42.491-07:00

1. The dark: but only when I am alone. 2. Falling: Not heights, but the actual act of falling (or flinging myself) from a great height. 3. Small spaces: and possibly suffocating to death. 4. Snakes: Actually, they should be at least numbers 1-8. 5. Not having anyone to take care of me when I am old. 6. Someone using my love for them against me. 7. Finding a body when I am running, hiking, fishing

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-36940592006921462462010-04-23T10:01:00.000-07:002010-04-23T10:01:45.309-07:00

I recently made a promise to myself that I would blog at least twice a week. I promptly broke the promise. What was I thinking? As soon as I say "I have to..." I immediately don't want to. BUT, since redemption is a recurring theme in my life, I am back. And by that, I mean for real. But I'm going easy on myself. Blogging can be intimidating afterall. So I decided I am going to make ten lists of

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-33542494442407190102010-04-12T07:34:00.000-07:002010-04-12T15:45:04.823-07:00

I've had the opportunity to do some pretty heavy thinking the past few days.  It is the kind of thinking that makes my head hurt. It is the kind done with a heavy heart, prompted by one of those events that make me ask Why? And I started thinking about the fact that when something wonderful happens in our lives, we don't ask Why? That isn't to say we take the blessing for granted, but we don't

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-40718342960247422332010-04-08T10:00:00.000-07:002010-04-08T17:05:43.222-07:00

In my memory there is a dirt road Hot days A pickup truck Windows down We travel fast Sometimes I drive The wheel vibrating beneath my loose grip In the mirror dusty plumes rise up behind us I look at you You see me Sometimes we are going But mostly we're leaving Back then we didn't know the difference.

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-40001425957485973922010-04-05T12:42:00.000-07:002010-04-05T18:09:02.873-07:00

A couple of weeks ago I was talking to a friend and she asked me what I learned from running a marathon. She was asking about running specific lessons, but for me, the lessons were much bigger than what it taught me about running. Don't get me wrong, I learned A LOT about running from that experience.  But there is just more to it than that. A few days after the race, I posted a race report on a

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-67400993109306653252010-03-31T13:34:00.000-07:002010-03-31T13:34:45.396-07:00

These are five little bluebird eggs in a bluebird house in our yard. We have patiently waited a whole year for a bluebird to build a nest. Now our cat patiently waits at the bottom of the pole knowing without a doubt something very interesting is going down in that house.

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-77848551866973744082010-03-29T10:46:00.000-07:002010-03-29T10:53:02.831-07:00

Last week I took a leap of faith and went back to my natural hair color, brown. I haven't regretted it yet, despite the fact that a lot of people have told me I should.  They think it means I won't be happy anymore. I just got tired of blonde jokes and being high maintenance. I have enough issues that make me difficult, but I decided my hair shouldn't be one of them.

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-74465649248756873092010-03-23T19:23:00.000-07:002010-03-23T19:35:31.620-07:00

I just found out that the house I called home for the first five years of my life burned down recently. And by "down," I mean completely. To the ground. Only a slab was left.  And I have very mixed feelings about this news. I tend to be pretty sentimental about people, places, and objects of importance to my past. But I feel oddly removed from that house. I even tried to force myself to remember

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-13277022308515498162010-03-16T12:02:00.000-07:002010-03-16T12:03:56.562-07:00

“There is a pleasure in the pathless woods; / There is a rapture on the lonely shore; / There is society, where none intrudes, / By the deep sea, and music in its roar; / I love not man the less, but Nature more...” Lord Byron I read the book Into the Wild way before it became a big movie directed by Sean Penn with a soundtrack written and performed by Eddie Vedder. I read it after I got kicked

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-86836715374674031012010-01-12T11:21:00.000-08:002010-01-12T11:21:09.786-08:00

These are the words I shared Sunday night at the TEAM CHLOE pep rally. What I realized even more profoundly than I already knew when I stepped up to the podium that night is that sometimes our hearts can be so broken we can't even begin to find the words to speak the extent of that brokenness, and sometimes our hearts can be so full that we can't find adequate words to describe that joy.  But

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-50922715903031083262010-01-04T21:27:00.000-08:002010-01-04T21:33:03.899-08:00

I remember when I was just a little kid, maybe three or four, I used a red crayon to "write" in the margins of one of my Golden Books. I vividly remember sitting at my table in my bedroom and the afternoon light filtering in through the curtained window above the table, casting dappled light across the pages. I "wrote" a series of loops and arcs across the top and bottom margin of every page.

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-84554638119166368122009-12-28T09:13:00.000-08:002009-12-28T19:15:01.764-08:00

I have never understood teachers who think they only have something to teach their students and nothing to learn from them.  I think I will probably always surround myself with teenagers and people who are younger than me, simply so I can look at the world through their eyes. The eyes of people who are navigating the world often much more courageously and boldly than I did when I was navigating

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-20108690740079208322009-12-25T18:50:00.000-08:002009-12-25T18:50:58.477-08:00

"...I wish I had a river I could skate away on..." Joni Mitchell sang it and sometime in the middle of the holidays I begin to feel it. I like people. I'm a social person. But there are times I need less people around me. I need less presents given and received. I need less parties and decadence. I need more presence. I need to be quiet. I need to abide. And I need to take that with me into the

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-88336207538446212522009-12-07T20:23:00.000-08:002009-12-07T20:23:31.891-08:00

When I started training for this marathon, I had delusions of bloggular grandeur. I fancied myself running long, solitary miles. Miles which would give me insight into the workings of the human body, the human experience, and perhaps, dare I dream, even the universe. And I would convey these insights in blogs that literally shone with brilliance and eloquence. These blogs would be the talk of

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-56448569707313295202009-11-11T09:26:00.000-08:002009-11-12T09:00:58.661-08:00

Veterans Day has always held a special place in my heart because of my grandfather. Today I choose to post the eulogy I read at his memorial about ten years ago.  The older I get the more I feel like I can barely begin to grasp what this man carried back from war, but I can fully appreciate the love he had for his country. I read in a book about a man who couldn't understand or appreciate jazz

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-34011600365949072022009-11-02T05:14:00.000-08:002009-11-02T05:17:28.150-08:00

Here is a small piece of a story in progress, tentatively titled, Bits and Pieces. I don't know where this is going yet, but I know it is at least a beginning. My mother told me once that there was so much she should have told me. We were washing dishes and as she handed me a plate to rinse, she looked at me hard and said this. I didn’t understand what she meant and I said tell me now. She shook

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-52605355803909551962009-10-27T19:35:00.000-07:002009-10-27T19:35:44.805-07:00

I was running along this afternoon. It was a beautiful, crisp, sunny day and yet, I just couldn't seem to get it together. There was nothing particularly wrong, but nothing particularly right. Until somewhere between mile two and three. I watched a family pull into their driveway and everyone proceeded to unfold from their vehicle. And then I saw the cute little girl dangling awkwardly from the

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-23458744616347733672009-10-20T19:56:00.000-07:002009-10-21T09:33:28.375-07:00

I have a standing running date on Tuesday evenings with my friend, Jodie. She finds a “Bradleysitter,” we keep the calendar open, and we run. We also talk. A lot. We are old acquaintances but new friends, and we are discovering the things that make being friends easy for us and are marveling that it happens so easily. If only all relationships could be this way. But then I remember that most

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-44329670797945682392009-10-05T19:58:00.000-07:002009-10-05T20:07:00.408-07:00

Tomorrow would be the second birthday of my friend Chloe. I sat in church yesterday looking at the flowers her parents placed in her memory and I thought a lot about the year she was here and the year since she has been gone. A lot has happened. People have changed. Or maybe I should say, I have changed. Which as far as I’m concerned, is even better.I worried after Chloe died that the lessons

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-4831791595773047552009-08-10T09:37:00.000-07:002009-08-10T13:51:51.905-07:00

It starts one fall evening on the swing in the backyard. A conversation about a trip. He wants to camp. You agree. So the planning begins, anticipation grows, and then finally, one Friday evening in the August heat of summer, you leave home with gear, some food, a full tank of gas, and a heart full of hope and excitement. You love taking trips.Seventeen hours later, you arrive at your destination

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-78938376936603297452009-06-30T12:41:00.000-07:002009-07-01T10:09:45.936-07:00

I spent all of last week at camp. I'm a big fan of camp--the fun that can be had and the rawness of relationships when we allow ourselves to be vulnerable and open. What I am not so much a fan of is the trust initiative that inevitably goes along with being part of a small group. It has nothing to do with the "bonding" that should happen within a small group. I'll bond all day through

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-55538743207318188882009-05-01T16:52:00.000-07:002009-05-01T16:58:16.336-07:00

I spent a large part of last weekend edging and cleaning out flowerbeds. This is extremely rewarding work for me. I don’t know who said it, but I subscribe to the adage that one “can bury a lot of troubles digging in the dirt.” I spend a lot of time working through the details of my life while I dig, trim, pluck, and mulch. Life is just a little less overwhelming when I’m hunkered down

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-38592761894267597582009-03-12T16:45:00.000-07:002009-03-12T16:50:15.217-07:00

So this is what I'm thinking: There is something wrong when a person can stand at a window looking out at a cold, wet world and wish they were out running in it. Or walking, or biking. I have done that off and on all evening. I love running on a cold day and wet road. I don't know why. But I do know that I am going a little stir crazy. I have been used to being sweat soaked at least several times

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7956112849312626993.post-38080876776904966182009-02-26T19:43:00.000-08:002009-02-26T19:56:35.423-08:00

I read this blog recently posted by the former wife of a very famous bicyclist turned marathoner, turned smart marketer and rock star/starlette dater. Some people have criticized her for capitalizing on her ex-husband’s fame, calling her a tag-along. I personally think she may know quite a bit about the subject of this week’s blog: sacrifice. Whatever the case, I say who am I to judge?The fact is

stephaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03461057890087933711noreply@blogger.com0