Category: Bible

CHAPTER THREE

Published on by Glenna S. Edwards1 Comment

SURRENDER ON THE TRAIL

CHAPTER THREE

I looked at the mountains, and they were quaking,

all the hills were swaying.

Jeremiah 4:24

MAY 6, 2016

I write the answer to “what’s on my mind” on Facebook: 

Calling all friends who have back country skills and equipment! I have an opportunity to hike part of the Appalachian Trail coming up very soon on a shoestring budget. I would welcome and take good care of any items you might allow me to borrow. Need: a less than 5 lb. 1-person tent, a trail worthy backpack, sleeping pad, lightweight sleeping bag. Plus, anything you know from experience might be helpful.

I click “post” then grab my son’s empty L.L. Bean backpack. I put a couple text books inside to add weight to the pack, lace up the stiff new Swiss hiking boots, and begin going up and down the hill outside my house. We leave this month. I’d better do anything I can to get my body ready. From the trail plan, I know that climbing hills is going to be a tough part of the experience.

Three times down and up my perfectly paved suburban sidewalk leads me to take a break. I sit on the porch with my love handles drinking water while out of breath. Then I begin the descent and climb again and again until I am certain Netflix calls my name to go back inside the house. Sweat is overrated.

MAY 7, 2016

Today is Saturday. I am at my second job. A beautiful spring day is outside through the window and beyond my grasp. I miss the boys.

My supervisor gave me a quarter raise above minimum wage last week like it was exuberant cause for celebration. I try to be grateful. I tell myself: this is a season in your life. Carry on. Having to clean bathrooms at the end of each shift when the body already aches is the most humbling. I have gagged more than once.

I convince myself that the small additional paycheck helps with groceries for two hungry teenage boys. They are worth it.

Some of the worst moments here are when people I knew from better employment years come into the store and eye me with questioning eyes or pity. They are in a rush on their way to a bridal shower or stopping by for luxury beach accessories on their way to Florida. They complain about trivial things like a broken nail or how on earth they could possibly pick a fine china place setting pattern from so many choices. Today a guy visiting the customer service desk asked me, “Didn’t you used to be my boss at…?”   

“Yes,” I smiled and did not offer one bit of explanation.

I hustle upstairs to my locker on a ten-minute break in hopes of a text or sign of life outside the walls of me saying “Would you like a gift receipt?” and “Would you like to purchase the item of the month?” to every single customer. You never know when the next customer might be a Secret Shopper who will report back about our store performance to the general manager.

I unlock my phone to find texts from JoAnn. Yes! Texts on break breathe life into me.

She sent a picture of a picture.

JoAnn—THIS IS FLAT KEVIN! HE IS GOING WITH US!

Who?

Flat Kevin is a 2D image of JoAnn’s nephew. She cut the background away from a candid photo of Kevin and laminated the remaining shape of his body. He is tall with dark hair and a kind smile. I recognize the wide bright eyes that JoAnn and many in her family seem to have. She says Flat Kevin will fit into her backpack perfectly. I guesstimate he is about 5 inches tall from the text. 

JoAnn fills me in about his story and why he is going. The real Kevin is 44 and the father of 6 children. His youngest is 3 years old. Kevin is fighting Renal Cancer. He has gone through a round of Interleukin so far. She tells me Kevin is living life as best he can right now. JoAnn is dedicating her hike to him. We will take a bunch of pictures with Flat Kevin during the hike so she can share those pictures with him after the trip.

My heart acknowledges his struggle. I have nothing left to internally complain about today. I text back my support for Flat Kevin on the trip and she continues with more news.

JoAnn—GUESS WHO ELSE IS GOING WITH US?!!  DRUMROLL….

No idea. JoAnn knows I am on a work break, so she does not leave me in suspense.

JoAnn—COURTNEY!!!!  AFTER GRADUATION SHE HAS A LITTLE BREAK WHERE THIS TRIP WILL FIT IN PERFECTLY.

So, she WAS interested in going. Cool. Courtney is a nice addition. 

Courtney and I ran a Girls Circle® group for 5th grade girls together during the winter. Before the students learned our names, they called her the “blonde one” and me the “dark haired one”.

Courtney has an old soul in a 22-year-old body. She was a reliable partner. I enjoyed her occasional surprise over what some of the young girls had to say. One of my favorite moments was when the girls mentioned that the next day school was going to have “the talk” with them about puberty. Their parents had to sign a consent form for them to participate. They asked Courtney if we knew what this means. Courtney replied, “Yeah, Glenna and I went to that class a long time ago.” The girls burst into an exchange of giggles.

The retail break time clock is ticking.

A group text pops up.

Courtney—MY ROOMMATE RACHEL WANTS TO GO WITH US ALSO!

JoAnn—OH WONDERFUL! WE HAVE FOUR SEATS. THAT WORKS!

The car is getting crowded, but I do like even numbers on trips. 

Courtney—GLENNA, RACHEL IS TO ME LIKE DEB IS TO YOU.  WE COMPLEMENT ONE ANOTHER.

Oh wait.  I recall some difficult stories with one of her classmates.

Glenna—RACHEL’S NOT THE “CRAZY ONE” IS SHE?

Gotta verify. I am too old for petty, jealous girl stuff.

Courtney—LOL. NO, RACHEL IS NOT THE CRAZY ONE, BUT WE ARE TRYING TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO TELL THE C.O.

Whew. Good.

I pause, then send a text to Courtney directly. I know that Courtney was involved in and valued her past experience in high school church youth groups, so this idea might go over ok.

Glenna—DO YOU WANT ADVICE ABOUT TELLING THE C.O.?

As a personal rule, I attempt not to give input without asking if people want advice first.

Courtney—YES, PLEASE.

Glenna–BEFORE YOU TELL HER, PRAY FOR A GOOD TIME AND AN EASY PATH FOR COMMUNICATION. THEN HOPEFULLY A CONVERSATION WILL OCCUR NATURALLY, NOT FORCED.

I have been to the movie of dealing with a few Crazy Ones over the years. Jealousy filled and irrational relationships wear me out. I have found that God has a way of working out the crazy upfront when you take the time to ask. So, perhaps I will pray right now too.

Dear God,

Please help Courtney and Rachel tell the friend that they are going on a trip without her. Soften everyone’s hearts involved and allow there to be a peaceful exchange.

[pause]

And please work out the crazy circumstances in my own life too.

Thank you.

Amen

Then I think about how even if Rachel is not the Crazy One, she is still an “unknown” for me. I hope she is not someone with a bad attitude. I do not like when there is a dud on a trip. 

The time clock makes the punch back in sound.

MAY 8, 2016

Jacob hands me the Mommy Boot Camp notebook I made him. For the last month he has been completing household tasks along with preparing his body for basic training and working. The home version boot camp is not because I want him to clean or repair our house (a nice benefit), but because I want him to know how to do things when he is living on his own. 

We tried to teach him life chores as he grew up, but he is a dismissive one. He often surprises you later that he was paying attention at all.

Mommy Boot Camp has been a bit like Karate Kid’s “Wax on. Wax off.”  He has done laundry, yard work, made calls to get information, wrote paragraphs about the dangers of drinking and driving, cleaned the crevices of our 6 panel doors, reviewed articles about youth who made big mistakes while abroad, prayed, looked up helpful life Bible verses, swept, mowed the lawn, drove his brother to appointments, was left alone with a banana and condom (while also having conversations about the benefits of waiting), folded clothes, Googled various topics like how to reduce anxiety, wrote down the Serenity Prayer, did countless sit ups, pushups and more.

“Mom, I’ve learned and done everything you asked.” He continues, “Now I’d like a few weeks off to relax before I’m gone for most of the next 6 years.”

“Ok.” I hug him. My tall handsome boy smells faintly of manly cologne.

I go to a quiet spot in the house to let a few tears pass.

MAY 13, 2016

NOON

May 31st is 18 days from now. My mind is racing about all I need to prepare and what I need to learn before we depart. 

I realize that I have never put up a tent by myself. Maybe I helped once or twice in the past by holding a tent pole for someone else while they did the real puzzle work. 

Fortunately, there is YouTube and Google. I search for videos, articles and how to information about hiking the AT:  what food to pack, how to select and put on a proper hiking backpack gear, how to protect yourself from the elements, how to keep bears and critters from your campsite, how to sleep in the deep woods at night (Eek! It is going to be DARK!).

Sounds like the most important things are to not leave food out to attract animals and to not be smelly yourself. And by smelly, I do not mean smell good or fragrant with normal wash products. It is important to have as little scent as possible.

Oh, and apparently people have trail names. You can have a special name just for the hiking experience. Given my recent life challenges, I could use a departure from reality. I ponder what my trail name will be.

1:00PM

News breaks that a man, age 49, was bitten through his tent by a bear while sleeping along the Appalachian Trail in the Smoky Mountains. Through his tent!?! 

It was just two days ago that I felt peaceful that I probably will feel safe enough at night once I am inside a 1-person tent. The dark will remain outside. I will zip up at dusk and not come out until daylight. That was my solid plan.

And now I am thinking, bitten THROUGH his tent by a bear?! I yi yi. He was inside.

I group text the story to Courtney, Rachel and JoAnn.

Courtney—OH MY!

JoAnn—THAT GUY PROBABLY HAD FOOD OR AN ODD SMELL IN HIS TENT.

JoAnn—ALSO, I’M BRINGING BEAR BELLS AND A BEAR BAG.

Courtney—I’LL GLADLY CARRY A BEAR BELL.

Rachel—DOES THE BEAR BELL ENCOURAGE THE BEARS TO STAY AWAY FROM US?

Good question.

JoAnn—BEARS DON’T LIKE BEAR BELLS. AND AT NIGHT WE PUT ALL OUR FOOD IN A BEAR BAG AND SLING IT WITH A ROPE HIGH OVER A TREE BRANCH ABOUT 200 YARDS FROM CAMP. I’VE BEEN PRACTICING.

Rachel—OH, OF COURSE. BELLS, BEAR BAG, ROPE, GOT IT. THIS IS ALL NEW TO ME! CAN’T WAIT, LADIES!

JoAnn has been practicing. Good to hear.

JoAnn—IF YOU’RE GOING TO WEAR DEODORANT, MAKE SURE IT IS UNSCENTED.  NOT EASY TO FIND, BUT THERE IS A BRAND CALLED TOM’S THAT MAKES UNSCENTED.

IF we are going to wear deodorant?  I add to my shopping list:

  • Unscented deodorant

I do not think I can give up deodorant. I also do not want any rodents or bears curious about me. 

4:30PM 

At an after-school club I tell co-worker Maria about the trip. I know she is an outdoor person. Maria had many adventures around the globe in her 20’s.

“I think you’ll love it,” Maria says. “And you need to read Bill Bryson’s A Walk in the Woods.”

“Is it a book about the AT?”

“Yeah.  You will learn a lot of tips.”  She continues, “Like cotton is rotten.”

“Huh?”

“You don’t want to wear anything cotton. Cotton stays damp and gross. You need to wear things that are synthetic. Synthetic materials dry fast.”

“Really?” I’d already been planning cool cotton attire and a couple of my favorite summer outfits. Do I own anything NOT cotton?

“Oh, yeah. Very important. No cotton.”

Once again, I am re-thinking what to bring and what to wear.

5:30PM

I stop at the Half-Price Bookstore. I already looked online to see that A Walk in the Woods is checked out of the library.

Ah-hah! Half-Price has a few copies. I use a bag of change to purchase a copy of the book plus a blank journal and head home. I want to keep thoughts and lists for the trip in one place. 

6:00PM

I walk down the neighborhood hill and back up several times. 

9:00PM

I am in bed reading while thinking I should still be cramming exercise into the day. My legs are sore. I wish I had more time to prepare.

My eyes enlarge. On page 6 of A Walk in the Woods, the author is preparing for his AT hike.  Included in his prep is awareness that:

“…there is the little-known family of organisms called hantaviruses, which swarm in the micro-haze above the feces of mice and rats and are hovered into the human respiratory system by anyone unlucky enough to stick a breathing orifice near them—by lying down, say, on a sleeping platform over which infested mice have recently scampered….”

What?!

In YouTube videos I remember seeing occasional AT platform shelters in the woods where the above quote could be a problem if we sleep on one at night.  No thank you. I vow to stay in my tent. Two, I need to add buffs or handkerchiefs to my packing list! I will cover my mouth, nose, ears and all orifices while sleeping.

In the back of my journal, I make a page for my packing list:

  • Buffs to cover face at night
  • Synthetic, quick dry clothing–No cotton!
  • Bug spray
  • Food –what kind of food?! (need to research)
  • 1-person tent (need to find or borrow)
  • Sleeping bag
  • Some type of pillow (or use rolled up clothing at night?)
  • Advil/Tylenol
  • Magic boots
  • Socks
  • Unscented deodorant
  • Travel toothpaste and brush
  • Hair ties
  • compass
  • Other items TBD

I turn off the light and pull the covers over my head. I try to comprehend what pitch-black dark will be like out in the woods at night.

MAY 14, 2016

This is really JoAnn’s trip. I remind myself of that. She has been planning to go since September. 

The timing fit and the boots fit, but the origins of this trip are hers. I vow to respect that.

JoAnn turned 60 in November. She was super busy around that time and so was I. It bothered me that I did not get to properly celebrate with her on or near her birthday. But I have an idea about how to have a celebration moment for her while on the AT.

I message her husband, Steve, on Facebook to ask what her favorite candy bar is. He replies Babe Ruth. Perfect. 

I saw a Pinterest video recently about making a little cake of candy bars attached to a small round Styrofoam piece. I can pick up miniature Babe Ruth bars and a small floral Styrofoam half ball from Wal-Mart. Oh, and I guess glue would be best to get the wrapped bars to stick to the Styrofoam. I can pack the completed “cake” in a Ziploc bag with a birthday candle. It will be a sweet moment while on the trail to celebrate.

I read about the importance of minimal weight supplies on the trail.  You carry everything on your back: tent, change of clothes, food, etc.  It is best to be as light as possible. I think this small cake idea can be lightweight.

I do not want to wait to the last minute to make the cake, so I begin working on it.  It takes a while for the candy to stick to the foam, so I upgrade to a strong epoxy tube of glue.  Soon the cake takes shape.

I text a picture to Courtney and tell her the mini birthday celebration for JoAnn plan.

Courtney—LOVE IT! VERY SWEET IDEA.

Glenna—THE TUBE OF GLUE SAYS HIGHLY FLAMMABLE, SO WE’LL HAVE TO LIGHT THE CANDLE AND HAVE HER BLOW IT OUT QUICKLY.

Courtney—YES! NO EXPLOSIONS ON THE TRAIL. I’LL HELP YOU ON THIS.           

Glenna—GOOD. THANKS!

I am beginning to call this trip Highway 2246 in honor of our decades. Two are in their 20’s, one is in her 40’s and one is 60 years old.

MAY 15, 2016

I am struggling overnight and this morning thinking about Jacob’s departure to basic training next week. Tomorrow he has a last briefing with his recruiter. I connect online with other military moms. Turns out a lot of them are crying too. Knowing there are other moms like me out there makes me feel somewhat more normal and not as alone. 

Only 1% of young people join the military in the USA. No wonder I do not have any local friends going through the same thing at this moment. This is not as common as I thought.  There are few brave young men and women who sign up to protect and defend our freedom.

MAY 16, 2016

12:00PM

Surprise! The recruiter said we get to keep Jacob around a little longer due to his emergency appendectomy recovery time. The USAF Surgeon General wants to give him an additional 90 days to heal. Now we wait for a new ship date.

This was a practice round.

I pause to adjust.

I think about it briefly, then decide I am still going on the AT.

6:00PM

A group text begins as often is now the case with the 4 women of Highway 2246. 

Courtney—I’M LOOKING AT OUR HIKE PLAN. WE END AT A DIFFERENT PLACE THAN WE BEGIN. HOW DO WE GET BACK TO THE CAR?

JoAnn—PEOPLE HITCH HIKE ALL ALONG THE AT. THERE’S A LOT OF GOOD PEOPLE WHO WILL PICK US UP AND TAKE US BACK.

I receive a direct message from Courtney–&^%$?  IS SHE SERIOUS?

JoAnn might be serious. 

Or she might be joking. I do not know.

Texting takes a timeout as heart rates increase.

Then we read:

JoAnn—I’LL RESEARCH AND GET BACK TO YOU.

8:00PM

JoAnn—I FOUND A REGISTERED DRIVER. HE’S AGREED TO DRIVE US. AND HE HAD A LOT TO SAY. TALKED MY EAR OFF. SOME OF IT WAS HELPFUL.

Rachel—OH GOOD. 

Courtney—WHAT’S HIS NAME?

JoAnn—DICK.

Pause.

Glenna—SERIOUSLY?

JoAnn—DICK RICHARD

Pause.

Glenna—SO HIS NAME IS DOUBLE D…

I do not finish.

Courtney–MUAHHHHH

JoAnn—LOL. DICK PROMISES TO BE ON TIME. HE’S AWARD WINNING IN HIS TRANSPORTATION AND AT GUIDANCE.

Rachel—WELL, WE CAN’T QUESTION DICK THEN.

Courtney does her own research. She texts a picture of Dick within minutes. I am impressed by her rapid fire online investigative skills. In the photo Dick has white hair, a white beard and is holding up an award. 

JoAnn—THAT’S DICK!

Glenna—I FEEL SAFER ALREADY.

Not really. But I am going with the flow. Surely JoAnn speaking with someone in advance rather than hitch hiking is a good thing. He is “registered” whatever that means.

Courtney—DOES ANYONE KNOW THEIR TRAIL NAME YET?

JoAnn—I THINK I’M GOING TO BE SUNFLOJO. 

The rest of us do not know yet.  We have a little time to figure it out.

10:00PM

My mind wanders. 

My heart is heavy. I need to de-burden, defragment, and cleanse my soul.

Fresh air will be good.

I hope to find the tallest mountain ridge and spend time with God. I thought the delay in Basic Training date would help me feel better, but there is so much more going on with our family. I have no words, but I feel the stress in the space that has opened up further in my mind.

MAY 17, 2016

Paul and I watch Appalachian Trail YouTube videos. There are a lot of them. 

  • How to cook on the AT
  • How to pack for the AT
  • Let’s talk Food on the AT
  • How to prepare physical endurance for the AT which totally makes me feel like a slacker at this late date!
  • And my favorite title: Preparing for My Thru Hike So I Don’t Die.

I watch and re-watch How to Pee Outside along with other ladies’ guides to peeing in the woods. This is vital information. I eye my backyard wishing the neighbors did not live so close. I do not plan to practice before going (pun intended!). I will be ready when there is no other choice.

I have a backup plan just in case I cannot manage to go when it is time or if I must figure it out at night.

This girl will not squat over mystery grass in the dark! So, I bought a guy version portable urinal. It is lightweight and has a smallish opening with a lid. I am confident in this Plan B because when I was in China several years ago, I cut off the top of a Pepsi bottle, made it work, then dumped the pee in the hole in the floor for waste. That is a whole other story involving dress clothes that did not work well in that country. If you have ever been to China, then you know what I am talking about.    

Paul and I watch one video and then watch another and another. In-between he gives me tips or encouragement.

He is getting into this. He prints out enlarged 8 ½ by 11 pages of each part of our hike plan.  He walks me through each page with a different color highlighter to mark each turn on the connecting paths.

I share with him, “JoAnn has taken classes and she told me she has an official AT trail guide map, but I’m glad for the blown-up versions so I can anticipate the experience up close on the map a little in advance.”

He knows I am visual, and he appears to want me to come home if lost. I will have more landmark names in my head than I need thanks to him.

Paul says, “Let’s go over it again. You follow the trails and make the turns with your finger. Describe each turn. You flip the pages. Let’s make sure you’ve got this.”

I begin, “We hike the Lower Hawksbill Mountain Trail first. We will climb the mountain to see the view from the highest peak in the Shenandoah National Park. Then we take Salamander Trail down the mountain to connect with….”

We practice the whole thing late into the evening.

I am amazed how much energy he can put into helping me with something like this.

MAY 19, 2016

I am tired.  The next payroll week looms as I wait for invoice payments to arrive this week.

Semi-facing the inevitable, I meet with a local career strategist, Dr. Angie Taylor.

Angie asks, “So how long have you been struggling with your finances?”

“Three years, maybe four.”

Angie states, “Glenna, you know the definition of insanity, right?”

“Doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results?”

“Right. The non-profit is like your baby. You don’t want to let go, but you’ve got to do something different. It sounds like your spouse’s earnings are not going to change and you’re not in a good position to sell the house.” She sighs, “If you have to answer right now, what do you do from here?”

Defeated I say, “Get another job or different part-time job so I can pay the mortgage on time.” What I do not say is that the paperwork and effort to change course, though, seems daunting.

“Alright, let’s talk about how to go about doing that.”

We brainstorm how I can make room in my schedule and obtain new sources of income.  Resentment brews in my heart. 

Angie is wise. I am grateful for her time, but why do I have to do this?!

MAY 21, 2016

I have begun to meet people to collect supplies. Today I meet with Amy K, who used to live and have outdoor adventures in Alaska.

“Here you go,” Amy K hands me a 45 Liter backpack. It has many pockets to discover. Best of all, it is red, my favorite color.

“Inside is a sleeping pad that you roll up and hook to the outside while hiking. You don’t have to blow into it at night. Open the valve and it will inflate on its own.”

“Wow,” I say.

She unzips a side pocket, “This is a little ring of flatware. And, I don’t know if you’ll want it, but this contraption becomes a chair if you fold it right. Sometimes a bit of back support is nice when resting in the woods.”

“I wish I could go,” I see the sincerity in Amy’s eyes. She is another person we know that has knee problems at the moment.

“Maybe next trip,” I say. “If this goes well for JoAnn, she plans to do many sections.”

“Yes, I hope so.” Amy and I hug. I leave grateful for the pack. It is perfect. I already feel one with it. It has compression straps which I know from videos will help distribute weight evenly.

I stop at other friends’ homes. The support and willingness to share has been greatly appreciated.

I return home to try out the growing pile of borrowed equipment in our dining room.

Paul is there looking through the boys’ closets. “This will fit you.  And this will too,” He says.

He has a stack of shirts and shorts which are made of synthetic material.

“This is great. Thanks,” I think about the savings but am a bit sad that I’ll be wearing all boy clothes. I have stopped at a few thrift stores and not found any trail clothes that will work.

I share, “I’m a little concerned about creepy crawling things and would like to have pants on the main hiking days, but I’m not sure what pants will work.”

Paul thinks for a moment then takes my hand to our shared closet. “What about these?”

He holds up his old pair of Boy Scout pants. For a few years he was one of the leaders for Jacob’s Cub Scout group.

I laugh, “Let me try ‘em.” 

My brain connects the outdoor pants with images I’ve seen in AT videos. The pant vents, cargo pockets and zippers make sense for the first time. 

“Tah dah!” I spin around once and stretch in the bedroom. No seams rip. That’s a good sign.

“They fit well,” he observes.

That settles it. I toss my new-found clothes in the wash and then hang them to dry. I have pieces of clothing from each of my guys and none of it is cotton.

MAY 26, 2016

I wake up at 5am to walk the neighborhood hills wearing Amy K’s backpack for an hour. 

In my early morning thoughts, I face that I haven’t cared much if I live or die in recent years.

Now, surviving the AT is fresh motivation. I want to both live through it and not hold back my group.

It feels good to want to live. 

I see this quote in a devotion book while getting ready for work. I dwell on it for the day.

When we are no longer able to change a situation,

we are challenged to challenge ourselves.

–Viktor Frankl, survivor of 4 concentration camps

MAY 27, 2016

Courtney and Rachel stop by the non-profit office. They come to collect excess equipment that caring friends have said we can share.

This is the first time I get to meet Rachel.

Courtney walks into the room, “Whazz Uppp?” She has been working out this morning. Her hair is in a ponytail. She wears her favorite Cross-Fit t-shirt.

“Hi.”  I am wading through end of the year student survey data.  A bit of spring air wafted in when the girls opened the door.

“You must be Rachel.”

“Yes, I am.”  Rachel is a tall brunette with a sweet smile.

I fan out little plastic bags with fabric inside. “These are buffs from Deb’s mom. She thought she would want them when she went through chemo, but she did not. They’re all brand new.”

Rachel says, “Ooo. There’s a bunch.”

Courtney says, “Tell Deb I’m grateful for these.  Nothing is allowed to crawl in my nose while I sleep!”

I agree, “Same here.”

Rachel chooses a turquoise blue. “Look, Court, it matches this backpack.”

Perfect. JoAnn had dropped off a few of her family backpacks to choose from. The girls load up.

“Yes, we’ll have to color coordinate a little bit on the trail,” Courtney smiles. “We’re off to buy food for the trail next.”

“Oh yeah, it is hard to commit to food choices,” I say.

Rachel shares, “It’s like you have to be ok with the fact that what you pack could be your last meal or something.”

We chuckle. “I’m committed to get through this, ladies. Yet, I have some doubts.”

Courtney says, “I am right there with ya.”

I offer, “I bought snack size peanut butter tubs, crackers, organic marshmallows—yum, tried some—cashews, ginger chew candy, packs of noodles that we can cook quick on JoAnn’s stove. Oh, and beef jerky in a few flavors.”

Courtney says, “Jerky is life. I’m all about the jerky.”

“We’re gonna need protein,” Rachel says.

“I hope we don’t see any snakes,” Courtney offers.

We all agree. I type into my computer and say out loud, “How to repel snakes.”

Rachel says, “Research. Good idea.”

Not as many articles or tips come up as I hoped. “Hmmm.” I point at one short piece of information, “Looks like snakes do not like moth balls.”

“I don’t know much about moth balls,” Courtney says.

“Well, they are kind of toxic for humans,” I say. “I’ll put some thought into it, though. There might be a way to incorporate them safely into some type of snakes-stay-away-system.”

I walk the girls out to their car.

It is time for me to leave for the day too. I welcome the warm afternoon sun. 

On the way home, I stop at Wal-Mart.

I walk around the camping aisles for general inspiration and stop at the knife case.

Jacob has asked me a few times to take some type of protection. I purchase a light weight yet menacing looking knife that flips open easily.

This metal will be clipped in my pocket during the trip because you just never know what might happen.

If you’d like to listen to the Audio Version or support this creative work, click here for my podcast chapters.

If you would like to support this creative work, please click the SUPPORT Button on the podcast.

© Copyright 2016 Surrender On The Trail – Glenna S. Edwards

Thanks for reading or listening. Check back next Sunday for CHAPTER FOUR.

Highway 2246 is almost on the road!

CHAPTER ONE

Published on by Glenna S. Edwards6 Comments

Welcome to

SURRENDER ON THE TRAIL

In the LORD I take refuge; How can you say to my soul, “Flee as a bird to your mountain…?!”

Psalm 11:1

CHAPTER ONE


MAY 13, 2016

9:00AM

I have agreed to go on an Appalachian Trail section hike May 31 through June 4.

Sounds simple enough: take long walks, camp overnight, repeat 4-5 times, then go home. How hard could that be? 

But I am 44 years old, overweight, stressed out because life is not going as I planned, hoped, or dreamed. AND, I have never gone pee or poo in the woods. 

Never. Not once. 

I am in research mode to prepare for the hike. So far, I read that an Appalachian Trail hiker carries 30-40 pounds of equipment on their back. I already have that much extra in fat that I carry around my waist and hips every single day. Is it possible that I can carry more than my own fat for nearly a week in the woods?

Neither friends nor family would describe me as an outdoor person. Once upon a time I was a Cub Scout Den Mom for 8 years for our two sons. I did not lead the outdoor activities. I outsourced what I did not want to do or what I had no clue how to do. 

I asked other outdoorsy type parents to lead lessons that involved sweat. Or trails. Or fires. Or bugs, fishing, snakes…yeah, pretty much anything having to do with outside was outsourced. I was great at sending emails, keeping a schedule, carpooling, and leading a craft or two. I rocked soap carving and enjoyed taking 6-10 young kids to new places. Guess it is my turn to take a field trip. Yet this is exactly the kind of field trip I would have avoided as a Den Mom.

Cub Scout days are long gone. I hold onto contact information and scout files as if we could start back up at any time. I have a plastic bin filled with Pinewood Derby Car race supplies. Each year I think I will donate them to some younger mother but have not gotten around to it. There are extra car decals, paint, weights, glue, officially licensed Boy Scout of America wheels, a scale and graphite powder which I am not sure is legal in the BSA rules, but everyone used it on race day anyway.

Our children are on the cusp of being grown physically. I am 5’10. In the last year both sons have become over 6 feet tall. Somehow, I am now the shortest person in family pictures.

Jacob turned 18 years old a couple weeks ago. He graduated high school last summer at 17 because he was determined to serve as soon as possible in the United States Air Force. He wanted to clear his path to depart months ago, but the wait game has been challenging. We have taken no less than 5 trips to a Military Entrance Processing Station two hours away from our home. For months I have run back and forth to schools and doctors getting letters and documents together. Jacob finally has a date for Basic Military Training coming up May 24. 

I feel sick and stressed inside. Is Jacob ready to be an adult? He is by far the child I have worked the hardest to support and coach along the way. My shy boy is becoming an adventurous man. What scares me most is his propensity to learn the hard way as a rule. When he was little the moment after I told him not to touch the hot stove, he proceeded to lay his hand flat on a burner. I am shocked by his no fear and eagerness to leave so soon. Older and wiser friends who have already been through this say I should be proud that he has the confidence to go. I try. 

Last month Jacob had an emergency appendectomy. When he was recovering post-surgery, I considered it a privilege to stay overnight in the hospital with him. I stared at his sleeping face as the rain poured outside and the parking lot lights gently shone into his room. What a bookend moment it was. I thought about how the same month 18 years prior I stared at him for hours overnight in a plastic crib after he was born in the same hospital. Now he is departing soon for Texas and who-knows-where in the world after that. He is brave.

Then there is Ben-Just-Ben. He is our youngest, 14 years old. His real name is Benjamin, but he announced after coming home from kindergarten years ago that he is no longer the full name of Benjamin. With a small hand cutting motion he stated, “I am Ben just Ben from now on.” This guy, once the cuddliest child ever, is close to 6’2 tall and begins high school this year. High School?! Wow. One minute you are trying to keep the calendar straight for school age children. The next minute you grieve them leaving home.

I am a risk taker of sorts, but now it is our kids turn to take risks. No matter that them leaving is completely normal and healthy, it hurts. Down deep in my stomach and soul there is a grinding and twisting that I feel these days. I must figure out how to work through the tears of this life transition. 

It does not help that other parts of my life are unstable. I run a tiny non-profit with 7 staff members. We teach positive coping and life skills to children in grades K through 12, and for parents of preschoolers.  Being a small organization means I wear lots of hats. The pay is not great and sometimes the boss, aka me, simply does not get paid. 

My reward is seeing children who once struggled in the classroom then learn new strategies and succeed. It is hard to imagine doing anything else because I love what we do so much. With new skills and knowledge people can make better choices and, in some cases, break negative cycles that have been passed down for generations.

The desire to build the non-profit began in 2005. I thought I heard clearly from God that this was what I was supposed to do. I was confident that if God put the dream in my heart that He would provide. Yet as some of my students say about other things: the struggle is real.

I adore my staff. I am so proud of the work they do. Most of them have spouses who are the main breadwinners. They do not seem to feel the same pain that I do trying to cover the mortgage and decide whether to buy groceries or pay the gas & electric bill. 

My husband, Paul, is a loving, caring spouse and father, but striving to make a good salary has never been an actionable priority for him. We have been married 23 years. He agreed that he would seek a better job or salary when I left the corporate world and took on the non-profit, but to date the steps necessary to improve his pay have not happened.

No matter how much I say I believe in him, he will not believe in himself. He is an intelligent person. I admire his brain, but he is plagued by self-doubt, a touch of OCD and depression—in my unprofessional opinion. Basically, I am married to Eeyore. Loyal and loveable, lack of growth mindset, Eeyore.

Worse, his body is failing him. He is tired all the time. I am not the type of spouse that would say, “Get off the couch!”, but I am thinking it.

Especially due to finances, something must give. I am not sure what. 

In addition to non-profit workshops, marketing, administrative duties, taxes, payroll, school activities, orthodontist appointments, plays, proms, sports, home duties like cleaning, oil changes, laundry, grocery shopping, etc., I also have a side retail job. I wish the retail money helped more than it does. I barely notice the tiny additional funds, but I do notice how much my feet hurt. My brain feels squeezed. Too much. This is all too much.

FLASHBACK:  APRIL 5, 2016

I am in-between school day workshops and an evening parent workshop. I receive a text:

JoAnn–WOULD YOU LIKE TO MEET AT THE PUB RESTAURANT? I HAVE A LITTLE TIME BEFORE A GIG NEARBY.

Heck yes, I do! I love JoAnn. She is one of my favorite people on the planet. JoAnn is a high school social worker. We collaborate from time to time on projects and how best to serve students. 

JoAnn is 5’2 tall. She is 17 years older than me, but in much better shape. She runs marathons and any 5K event she wants to around the city.

We connect well spiritually, and we laugh every time we are together. In the last few years, we call each other “soul sis”. Like me, she grew up in an environment with a functioning alcoholic father and hard-working mother. I sense we both work in the Urban Appalachian town where we do because it is a lot like coming home for both of us. The culture is familiar. We “get” the unwritten rules. 

I arrive at The Pub. JoAnn has already portioned out half of her pot roast and mashed potatoes dinner onto a side plate for me. One, yum. Two, this is a good habit I have seen her do with food. She is a half eater. I am an eat the whole plate and may I have some more eater. 

I ask, “What’s your gig tonight?”

“A compass reading class over at REI.”

That does not sound like social work continuing education to me.

“Tell me more,” I smile.

“I’m starting my AT adventure this summer,” she announces proudly.

I have no idea what REI is either, but start with, “What does AT stand for?”

“Appalachian Trail,” she says. “Oh, I love to hike.”

I have never heard of the AT, “How long is it?”

“The whole AT goes from Maine to Georgia.”

“Wow-“ How in the world?

She reads my face. “Oh honey, I’m not hiking the whole thing this year,” she laughs. “I’m doing a section hike as a recon mission to see if I can handle it. Then I might do more sections each year until I complete it. I have been planning and plotting this adventure since September. I have taken several classes to prepare too.”

Is there anything JoAnn can’t handle? Seriously.

“Who is going with you?”

Then I ask, “When are you going?” And more questions all the while thinking that maybe she should ask me if I want to go.

I do not dare interject that idea. Clearly, this is her thing. She has a plan.

Look at me. I feel the pinch of my too tight pants. I would not be a good hiking partner. I would literally weigh her down.

But…the thought of going sounds amazing. 

My mind wanders. This could be the escape I need to be me-just-me for a week. I could be challenged away from my normal struggles. Lately I feel an ugly angry inside. On the outside most people may think all is well with our family, but the reality is painful. We live in a nice house that we no longer can afford. Our slow pay credit score makes me feel trapped. Moving is expensive. We have old cars that break down constantly. We are blessed with two amazing kids who each wear one pair of shoes for a year straight. Our water has been turned off a couple times and the boys knew when I rushed to scramble to get it turned back on.

JoAnn interrupts my thoughts, “Would you ever be interested in hiking sometime?”

I look at her. My head tilts, “Yes. If the opportunity comes up. Maybe after your recon mission success, then we can plan a different section hike sometime. Let me know how it goes.”

FLASH FORWARD:  MAY 03, 2016

7:00AM

I’m driving to work. The cell phone rings. It’s JoAnn. I put her on speaker.

She says, “Crazy idea. Do NOT feel like you have to answer right now. Sleep on it at least one night….”

“I’m listening.”

“My friend who was supposed to go on the AT hike with me hurt her back. There is no way she can carry the backpack required so she can’t go.” 

There is something about the way JoAnn lovingly pronounces “AT” that I admire.

She continues, “Would you like to go on the trip?  I have a mini camp stove and a bear bag already. I can text you a pic of our hiking plan so you know where we’ll be going….” She trails off. Pun intended.

Meanwhile, I am thinking, What in the world is a Bear Bag?

If you’d like to listen to the Audio Version, click here for my podcast chapters.

Thanks for reading or listening! Check back March 28, 2021 for Chapter Two.

© Copyright 2016 Surrender On The Trail – Glenna S. Edwards

Accept Help

Published on by Glenna S. Edwards9 Comments

Things are better for our family today than they were one year ago.

Or, today compared with the last seven years, seven years that got progressively worse until I thought my brain and heart might implode.

I felt fear typing the word “better”, but it is true.

Thank God.

And, thank people.

A key thing I learned especially the last three years was that help comes from the most unexpected places: complete strangers, acquaintances, neighbors, some friends, some family. There was a time when I would have refused help or tried to do it all my own.

I stopped being embarrassed of our mess and started saying yes.

Someone I trusted but did not know well sorted my jewelry and personal items. A team of painters from a church different from our own church came to our house for over a week, most that I did not know. Someone I barely knew out of town paid our electric at just the right time when I was debating the order and deadlines of bills. Grocery gift cards arrived. Encouragement came in the mail from both sisters (by blood and marriage) at just the right time every time. Someone ran a marathon to fundraise so that Hubby could get a mobile scooter. A friend spent 36 hours removing stubborn wallpaper at the condominium. One room had four layers! Eight women over 60 years old showed up to pack their cars with Rubbermaid containers to transport from garage to garage so that we could save time and money on moving day. This paragraph could be much longer with stories of miracle people showing up, but you get the idea.

One thing that rolled around in my head was that people do what they can when they can. I did not expect anyone to help. I think it is dangerous and mean to expect people to be there for you. For example, I am not a fan of Facebook chain posts that end with “and I think I know who will respond.” Yeah, no, at any given time, you do not know what someone is really experiencing or what they can make time for this minute or in this season of their life.

If you are going through a tough time, just be open without judgement. Say yes to those who emerge from the clouds. In addition, when you can, make sure you help others too. There are plenty of opportunities to be there for people when you can. Over the years, I have really enjoyed giving quietly when I was able. It was humbling to be on the receiving end. And, it was necessary to accept help. We would not have made it otherwise. Thank you to many.

When we have frustrating days now, I observe how quickly my mind thinks, “Thank You for my problems.” Right now involves acceptable water treading with a little space and capacity to roll with the waves. I feel the physical and mental stretch daily but nothing like recent years.

Last summer I was fortunate to visit Thorncrown Chapel in Eureka Springs, Arkansas. The building is constructed with glass walls that provide a sanctuary in the woods.

While there, I thought about its openness to nature. I considered my openness to surrender.

Surrender means saying yes to God through the stress. Surrender says, “Sure you can sort these items in my bedroom. Seems like a personal place, but let’s go for it.” Surrender says, “Thank you for adopting my son to celebrate his high school graduation in ways that I would not have been able at that time to provide.” Surrender says, “Yes, please interview and find us the best realtor for our situation.”

Surrender is also the word that came to mind back in 2016 when I was out of shape and said yes to a near week long hike on the Appalachian Trail with a team of women.

I knew the ground was sliding under our family’s footing. Something was wrong. I thought I was losing my mind over our oldest son going to the military at 17 years old. Maybe if I ran away to hike and sleep outside, then I could get alone with God to work out my mixed up feelings.

However, there was more.

And, God was preparing me.

“Surrender on the Trail” became the title of the manuscript I wrote about our wild experience in the woods. Imagine four women committed to staying outside to maneuver rocks and mountains for 35 miles. Imagine getting lost in the rain at nightfall. Imagine tears and flies buzzing with an incredible 4,050 feet view above sea level.

I am thinking about publishing one chapter a week here on the blog. What do you think?

The manuscript has been complete and edited for a long time. Something in my heart does not feel like continuing to query publishers or literary agents right now. What if I make it available here?

People from 34 countries read this blog last year. What if I simply share?

If you have comments or ideas about this idea, please let me know.

Thanks,

Psalm 121:1a ~ I lift up my eyes to the hills. Where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD….

Valentine Antidote

Published on by Glenna S. EdwardsLeave a comment

It is that day when I promise once again that next year I won’t be in town on Valentine’s Day. I will be with girlfriends or on a beach, on a mountain top, anywhere else doing something–anything–not so ordinary.

Valentine’s Day is a double whammy. It’s also my birthday. Growing up, I loved celebrating with red hearts, white paper lace, pink streamers, balloons and all things Valentine.

As an adult, I realized many people have jumbled emotions linked to February 14. Happy feelings, angry feelings, dread, anger and so forth.

Then I married someone who expresses love inversely to what I anticipated. Let’s just say his first romantic gift was a bright yellow personal alarm to wear on my waist so I could pull the cord for it to wail and screech if someone nefarious came too close to me on my college campus.

We’ve worked it out. It’s taken a lot of tears and years. I’ve learned that the antidote to my occasional sad feels is to have less expectations, ask for something specific if desired, support or help others.

These days, ALS-21 plus a Pandemic make it so Hubby can’t get out to shop, or walk much, or feel good for a full day. I am happy simply when his words are kind. I like thoughtful and kind. Lately, I’ve been quietly thanking the writers of Call The Midwife. Hubby really likes that show. I call it his daily empathy exercise. Women have been through so much and that binge worthy series does not shy away from hard topics.

Speaking of writers, my feel better about Valentine’s Day activity this year was to support authors I care about. I directed Hubby to my wish list and he placed the order. I was excited to open the packages.

Janine Rosche is an author who picked me up off the floor when I received a bad news phone call at a writer’s conference. She prayed with me. Then I found out she was looking for a certain agent to meet. I am thrilled to say they met indeed and are three books into a successful journey. I now have a trifecta of inspirational romance to read:

William Klein’s book was lost in our move so I needed a replacement copy. This is a timely fictional story about a painful border experience.

And Jessica Terry is a writer that cracks me up with her Instagram stories. Like me, she was a basketball player in her youth. We’ve never met. I appreciate her work ethic and passion. So, I soon will read:

Who would you like to support? Someone creative? An organization that does something you value? Church? Someone elderly or ill? Doing a little something for others could brighten your Valentine’s Day. Earlier in the week, I called a couple people who I hadn’t spoken with in a few years. It was a good time on old fashioned phone calls.

Frequently, I think of the verse Love One Another (John 15: 12). Loving others does not result in only one direction of good vibes even when that should be our intention. When you love others, the good feels return to fill your heart and strengthen the weave of the universe.

Still in town,

P.S. Hubby also visited the Shari’s Berries website. Winner. Yum.

Do The Work, White People

Published on by Glenna S. Edwards2 Comments

White People,

I feel like I’m in a game of “Not It!” with you. That’s what I think when I see people try to throw down a meme that misses the point.

If you want to do better & you want society to do better, then you have 2-4 jobs right now:

  1. Listen. Listen all the way. Listen without having a single thought about what you think about a topic. Listen to hear something new. Listen to someone who does not look like you. Do not say one word about what you think unless you have done the work.
  2. Read. Read something credible like a book that can teach you something that you never considered before. And you’re going to have to be patient. Don’t give up after two paragraphs like one of my friends who direct messaged me, “I don’t agree, and I just can’t do this.” Read all the way. Here are 3 books that I have devoured this summer so far. I could not be happier about the discoveries and glossary of terms that I am now aware of. In fact, some things that bothered me in the past I now have words and definitions for about why. I could not put my finger on certain concerns before, but now I can. I have plenty more books to read soon too.
  3. Watch. If you are not willing to read or listen to books from the public library or Audible, if you have no one in your life that you can really talk to in a way that you could learn something different, then Netflix has a bunch of Black Lives Matter movies picked for you. Or you can find some of the above mentioned authors or topics discussed on YouTube and in TedTalks.
  4. Support. Support people who know more than you do. Donate to or buy from Black led organizations. Go stand in support at a peaceful event. [Please wear a mask for the health of all.] Tell someone you care about them and you are here for them. I loved when my pastor said in a sermon recently, “If you’re not Black, then you don’t know.”

There is plenty to do if you really want to be helpful.

Do you ever remember learning how to be antiracist when you grew up? Did you attend an anti-racism class as a child? No?!? Of course not. Find out why. Now is the time to do the work of learning. It is not too late. Even one shift in the way you think will help you, your family and future generations. I read Matthew 18:1-5 while writing this and am reminded that we must humble ourselves and learn like little children.

I have witnessed or heard of many misguided moments lately. If you lead a company and you think oh, let’s get all the Black people in a room and ask them what to do, then I call “not it!” Yes, every voice is needed, but you may do more harm than good if you have not done your work. Here’s a key fact:

Systemic racism requires systemic change.

If you’ve done your personal work and you really want to end racism, then we have to change how we do business. This means required trainings, for example. Everyone can benefit from implicit bias and racial equity training. What if every policy and hiring is required to be run through a racial equity checklist? Real progress happens when we change every day practices.

It can be painful to see well intentioned people scurrying to do or say things while assuming they know what to do. You know what happens when you assume, right?

When you do the work in your own heart and mind first, then your next steps will be better.

Love,

Signature GSE

P.S. If you feel defensive or angry while reading this, then this post wasn’t for you. This was written for folks who truly want to love one another.

The In-between

Published on by Glenna S. Edwards

Welcome to the in-between weekend.

  • Christmas lights are hit or miss now.
  • It is hard to remember today’s date.
  • New Years is coming.

I’ve heard some grumbling and sadness around town.

Maybe you are a Have-Not who listened to The-Haves talk about expensive gifts received.

Perhaps you just heard, “but we’ll always be friends” as he shared he is serious about a new relationship.

It’s not even break up season yet. You were blindsided.

Or your mini vacay to-do list is not close to done.

Did you use all the energy you had to cope during a time of grief?

Fear not.

To the person who needs to hear this today, you are valued exactly as you are.

You matter.

Order and routine will be restored.

It’s ok to take a nap.

Embrace what is and give it to God. Allow the feelings to pass through your body so you can move on. If you fight emotions, the pain lasts longer.

As for that to-do list, tackle something manageable first.

This is a good time to pray, praise, rest, connect to your source.

Reset for 2020.

Remember there is a time for everything. Don’t beat yourself up in this short window.

Ecclesiastes 3:1-11 There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal,

a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,

a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak, a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace.

What do workers gain from their toil? I have seen the burden God has laid on the human race. He has made everything beautiful in its time.

How may I pray for you? Dm me with prayer requests for the new year.

Love,

Glenna

2 Free Gifts

Published on by Glenna S. Edwards2 Comments

“I have no gifts to bring parum pum pum pum...”

I feel the Little Drummer Boy’s pain in this season of life.

You may not have material items to give others, but there are free gifts you can give to friends and family during the holidays and throughout the year.

1. CLEAN SOMETHING. Recently in borrowed work space someone said, “Oh, we are not going to sweep. It was already a mess when we got here.” That comment made me feel sad. Aside from the fact that sweeping is on our checklist, I believe in leaving places better than they were whenever possible. The broom and dust pan stood in the corner. I collected debris in 5 minutes. No one may notice, but I know that caring for someone’s space is an act of love and appreciation.

Deposit positive energy. At someone’s home, you can do dishes without making a fuss or be the person who collects discarded wrapping paper. If the trash can is full, then take the bag outside. Don’t draw attention to yourself. Just do the deed that alleviates someone else’s stress.

2. GIVE QUIETLY. Long ago someone told me about how a visiting family member was helpful but then offered a whiny soliloquy about how they mopped the floor and how they ran a load of laundry. Listen, no one wants to hear about the dust bunnies you cleared or the obstacles you faced when searching for the perfect gift. Have a funny story? Then maybe share. Or ask yourself, is your intention to draw light to show how you should be noticed for your efforts? If so, then no. Hush.

Do you volunteer at church? Then do it with grace. People need the peace that can be found in church rather than the distraction of a grumpy volunteer.

Did you just clean your house for guests? Are you exhausted because cleaning was way overdue? Then check yourself before opening the front door. Don’t greet people with your stress. People need your warm welcoming smile.

Just do or not do…quietly.

We could talk about being present for others. We could talk about self-care and doing less around the holidays. We could talk about the Mary and Martha story in the Bible. As much as we hail Mary for simply being with Jesus, there’s a place for Martha in the story too.

An able bodied someone can help others in the spirit of love and kindness without any need of accolades. With ALS in our home, I often find myself silently thanking God that I have legs that can climb stairs and a body that can bend to pick up things. I don’t say that out loud to Hubby, but I do lift my thanks to my Higher Power. Quiet gratitude renews my spirit even in the moments when my body wears out for the day.

Martha might not be mentioned in Luke 10 if she gave quietly.

Be a stealth Bible Martha.

And please take out the trash & recycling–quietly.

Love,

Glenna

20191215_092456_hdr9020356333966590662.jpg

Bestie Mantra Weekend

Published on by Glenna S. Edwards1 Comment

Driving 3 hours to her house, I think of all we might do in a 24 hour getaway. I will go as far as karaoke. I’m all in.

Good food and laughter are guaranteed. I need a minute away. Home is stable. This is my chance. Hubby wishes me well with my favorite, “Have fun.”

I appreciate and love my girlfriends so much. They keep me sane. I could listen to stories about what goes on in their lives forever. They listen to me too. And this bestie, Bestie B, was my college roommate. We survived living together, studying together, random outings, heartbreak, and the dawn of adult living. She knows the recipe for my go-to final exams breakfast omelet. She knows I clean to alleviate stress. I have not seen her in many months. Every second will be savored.

After visiting with her daughter and a tour of her new place, we moms go out to eat Mexican. We dive into life stage ponderings and problem solving which leads to a weekend project and of course, duh, the craft store stores. We visit JoAnn’s, Target, Walmart, & Michael’s. Shopping is something I hardly ever do these days. It feels good to wander.

Back at her home, the project ensues. We seek words that will lead to a personal mantra. A mantra is a slogan or phrase that one can use to meditate. It may be for a season or a lifetime. We hope creating a mantra will help steer our brains in a healthy way. Through conversation, we write down positive words and watch for the most important words to elevate. Our intent is to have a ready thought to help with current challenges.

I mean, my gal is an engineer and I consider myself a social scientist, so this was fun. Hours unfold. Words emerge. We are well past our usual bedtimes. I anticipate she will land on 3 separate words, but I am wrong.

20190922_140508

With a sound effect of introduction well after midnight, a word phrase moves to the top of the post it note chart. We agree to sleep on the results and see if the mantra sticks. She has a mantra statement “Manage My Mind”. I have a mantra question “Is that thought helpful?”.

20190922_072107_HDR

I wake up in a different place and watch Netflix undisturbed for an hour. As if I wasn’t already in Heaven, then I share in a bestie chocoholic breakfast. Yum.

20190922_084522_HDR

Our fresh minds agree that the mantras fit even after sleep. These are our phrases for this season.

We move into craft time. She makes vinyl stencils with her Cricket (Thanks Daughter M for helping Bestie B figure it out over the phone). We place the stencils on decorative wood from Wal-mart ($2.97ea). We use one of the 12 paints in a set from Michael’s ($9.99set) and sponge brushes ($4.97set) to paint the words.

While paint dries we listen to the podcast “My Favorite Murder”. On the second round of paint drying, I nap a little and have to Google the rest of the podcast story. Then it is time to remove the stencils and fill in any missed spots.

I want to add glitter. We find cute large rounds of glitter at Walmart ($3.99). I use Elmer’s Glue to apply the sparkle.

Wah lah! Our mantras are ready to be placed in a spot where we will be reminded daily.

20190922_154422

When it’s time to depart and without discussion, she finds a Ziploc bag to keep my new favorite sign from leaving glitter in my car. #Love

20190922_163139_HDR

My mantra “Is that thought helpful?” reminds me of the Bible verse that talks about taking every thought captive (2 Corinthians 10:5).

I’ll pay attention to how my brain functions over the next few months with this mantra hanging in my office. I don’t want to get stuck on “thinking” that is not useful. I want to train my brain to keep moving my thoughts and actions in a good direction.

If you get a chance to do a mantra making project, I would love to hear about it. I hope it is as fun and useful to you as it was to Bestie B & me.

Love,

Glenna

Permission

Published on by Glenna S. Edwards5 Comments

My mind, body, and soul have been confused since mid-February.  I laid down my superpowers.

That is when I let go of working four jobs simultaneously.  The same week Hubby finished his last day at work never to work a full time job again.  Meanwhile our house is for sale, and we are responsible to help one of our close family members who struggles with mental illness.

Oh, and my nearly new laptop broke.  Boo!

Somehow with three less boss supervisions to schedule per month I thought I would jump into a writing routine.

Nope.  I found myself instead grieving the losses and challenges our family faces.  I enjoy my new job, yet could not make the turn to be disciplined with writing during evenings and weekends.  With the size of my household to-do list, free time is debatable anyway.

Then there is the ever present internal fight for gratitude.  I wrestle with the fact things could be worse, way worse.  I tell myself:  Enjoy right now.  Count the blessings even when the challenges feel like too much.

So I rested and watched winter play out its final weeks.  I wondered when would I feel like digging into my passion?  Afterall, I have not one, but two manuscripts that need attention!  Do I dare say who need attention?  I sense the writing files need me to breathe life into them.  They will walk upright alive.

Worse, I received unexpected feedback from more than one friend that I don’t seem available or as connected as they thought I would be after the job shift.  Don’t I have more time for them now?  Haven’t the number of hours in a week expanded for me somehow? [No, it’s the same number of hours, Ladies.]

Some folks thought I would be more fun perhaps.  I am flat emotionally.  Even if I go through the motions to return texts, friends may pick up that my vibe is “off”.

I became quiet.  I said no to multiple social outings.  I don’t want to be that person who struggles all the time.  I have less and less to say out loud.  Besides, a realtor might request a showing any minute.  I better stay close to home to swish a toilet or run the vacuum–this home in which I can no longer fully relax.

At times I dream of moving far away.  Montana, Florida, Oregon, a random place with no expectations.  I could take my troubles elsewhere.

Fortunately kindness and encouragement arrive from various people in surprising ways too.  Cookies baked by a neighbor for our open house.  A box of positive intentions to read one note at a time.  Patience.  Laughter.  Forgiveness.  Someone asking if there are ways for her to be a good friend to me right now.  All good things.

20190224_172205

Leveling up to a new reality is not instantaneous.  I need time to adjust.

I cling to daily Bible verses, but I do not communicate well with God or anyone other than maybe Hubby right now.  Perhaps I’m in the eye of the storm or this is the whole Footprints poem with one set of footprints at the moment.

I follow strong women on Instagram. What would authors Elizabeth Gilbert and Glennon Doyle do to self-care through this, I ponder?  They are unapologetic in their processing.

Then Lysa Terkuerst makes the Word of God light up on my cell phone.  She’s been through trying times.

And how about the young woman at my church who is blogging her heart out?  She’s cool and fun to watch grow deeper into adulthood.  Or my 100 miles consecutive running friend with a book coming out later this year.  Love you, Kelly!  I am still in awe that Kelly played on her high school football team.  Shout out for writing consistency Brieanna Arsenault and K. A. Wypych!  I am inspired by you weekly!

What emerged in my brain a couple days ago is that I dwell in what I should be doing rather than what I desire to do.  And there’s too many should-be-doings.  As a wife and mother maybe it is time I recover from some of that.  I could be cooking, cleaning, and gosh darn organizing every hour of the day.  Or I can give myself permission to write.  Permission to take a time out.  Permission to rest.  Permission to be me.

Permission to say no as long as I need to say no.  Permission to say yes to the right things for right now.

Permission is a different way of thinking for me.  It is a shift in my perspective.

Permission means releasing the coulda shoulda woulda pressures.  I can choose and then not think about the decision again.  I have permission to let the chips fall where they fall.

Permission means I get a vote.  Permission means I don’t constantly worry about everyone else’s needs before I do something for me.  Permission might seem selfish.  And I have permission to let go of that concern.

There are people I admire who give themselves permission freely without thoughts of repercussions.  I love them and don’t judge them.  I have permission to do the same.

I have permission to dial direct in my prayers and say more than early morning, “Hold me and ease me out of this bed, Father.  That’s all I’ve got to say today.”  I have permission to recognize seasons of life.  I have permission to pray all the things and seek the path I know He imprinted on my heart long ago.

See the source image

As a matter of fact, I have permission to open the screen door, listen to the rain, and write life into my novels.  Right now.

CPR in progress.

Love always,

Signature GSE

P.S.  What do you have permission to do?  How are you managing the seasons of life?

 

 

 

For the Broken

Published on by Glenna S. Edwards1 Comment

I did not see that coming.  Twice, in fact, I paused in awe within the last seven days.

First, I went to spaghetti-a-plenty night at our local Larosa’s restaurant with the young man who has helped us accomplish countless house tasks over the last two months.  He and I have painted wall after wall and multiple ceilings while worship music played.  We sang or talked about life along the way while occasionally saying we’d go get spaghetti when the list of to-dos were done.  He’s done carpentry and plumbing work.  The list is long.  He’s 26 and he could have chosen to be anywhere.  He didn’t know us until he answered a random church text to go help a family in October.

That introduction day surrounded by our mess, he looked deep into my eyes to size up the situation.  He promises that he will not leave our family’s side until the house is ready to be put on the market.  “I’ll care for you the way I would care for my own mom,” he said.  He delivered mercy with a paint brush to my soul.

During dinner he shares, “I look at your husband whose body is broken and it makes me think of how broken I have been on the inside.  Through this time with you I am reminded that no matter how his body is failing him that he has everything I’d ever want:  a wife and family behind him.  Kids that love him.  ALS can’t take that.  He is more whole than I have felt in a while.”

I see the reflection in this young man’s eyes that his heart is healing and he is moving on with God into the next season of his life.  He’s spending time in prayer, scripture, and seeking wisdom.  I hope I get to serve punch at his wedding one day.

Second, yesterday Hubby and I went to church.  Often this fall we watched online as the home tasks were many and his body struggled.  It is Christmas.  We want to be inside our church to worship.

Hubby had a rough morning so we need more than the rollator.  I quickly load the wheelchair into the trunk.  The sun is shining.  The car is old but warm.  We are smiling.  A friend checks in on text and I reply that I feel peace and hope to carry it through the holiday.

And then 10 short minutes later…

As we roll toward the door the gravity of Hubby not being able to walk into church rips open my tear ducts.  We can not get into the sanctuary where it is dark fast enough.

I don’t make eye contact with Hubby for the first half of service.  I look away to wipe my tears and wonder about my mascara status.  I place my hand on his knee.  I hope that he will take my hand.

He doesn’t.  I can feel his pulse.  It’s a strained rhythm like the rhythm happening in my own body so I know he is fighting tears too.  Eventually I peek and see his wet eyes.  I don’t know if he’s missing our son in the Air Force, missing his mom who passed away this fall, or if it’s the weight of simply everything we face right now.

Releasing my stubbornness, I stop waiting for his hand to move and move my own hand to find his.

I am reminded that whatever brokenness we feel, there are many more who feel angst too.  Sometimes the holiday lights amplify pain or grief.  For all who suffer right now I lift up this prayer for you.

Dear God,

We praise your name even when times are difficult.  Lord, lift up the brokenhearted.  Please help the lonely feel your presence this season.  Be with those who long for a loved one who has passed.  Your Word in Psalm 34:18 says you are near the brokenhearted and we claim that promise right now.  Be near us.  Bring joy in the simple things.  Heal the sick.  Give hope to the hurting.  Bless the caregivers.  Ease suffering.  Be with military families near and far.  Help all who feel alone to find joy that can only come from you.  Wrap everyone with your love and peace.

Amen

With love to all,

Signature GSE