Elisabeth: You always say that. You’re a salt fiend.
______
Elisabeth: It’s important to do a thorough vaccuming job and that includes doing the edging, PLEASE.
Jason: You have OCD, Beautiful.
______
Jason: The [fill in vegetable] in our garden isn”t growing. They’re not going to make it (as he fingers whatever said vegetable).
Elisabeth: STOP right there! Don’t you dare pull them up! You have to be patient.
______
Elisabeth: Jason, please don’t throw Ian around like that. You’re going to snap his neck or his brain is going to disattach from his skull or something.
Jason: I know what you’re thinking: baby chiropractic appointments. I’m not paying for them.
_______
Jason: Grab me a towel quick, quick, quick! Ian just spit up in my general vicinity [or touched me with this dirty, food-filled hands].
Elisabeth: And explain to me again how this falls line with your insistence that Ian be a boy and get dirty?
_____
Jason: I don’t feel good. I think I’m coming down with something.
Elisabeth: Here, take this homeopathic remedy.
Jason: How much am I paying for these sugar pills?
______
Elisabeth: Jason, isn’t Lizzie so cute and amazing?
It’s done. I completed the Royal Victoria Half Marathon this last Sunday.
But before I get to all the race details, I want to back up to last Friday night, just a few hours after my last post.
Jason & I were in the car going to Road Runners to pick up some last minute gear. He was asking me how I felt about the race and I told him I was excited but also wondering about meeting my goal of 2:10. His response was “Elisabeth, I think you can more than meet that goal. I think you can run it in under two hours.”
I didn’t like that comment. It was throwing a monkey wrench in my plans. I started to feel my chest tighten. I started to feel the pressure–not that Jason was really pressuring me to do anything. He was just trying to encourage me.
Then came the excuses, the anxiety thinking about if I could (or really wanted to) push myself farther. I know that I tend to set my goals low because I’m afraid of failure, but I certainly wasn’t going to admit that to Jason. But the writing was on the wall.
I set the thought aside to contemplate it later (which is a miracle in and of itself). I slept okay that night and we got packed up and headed out Saturday morning.
Our trip to get to Victoria included two ferry rides, about two hours of driving and lots of waiting in line, but we made it there by about 3pm. The city was beautiful and the weather was perfect–clear, cool, and sunny. Our hotel was only a couple blocks from the dock and we soon discovered only a block from the starting line. I thought about the race at various points throughout the day, but I was excited, not anxious. And I felt a bit more comfortable contemplating Jason’s sub-two-hour comment.
We walked the streets of Victoria and grabbed some dinner that evening. And then I proceeded to have the crappiest night of sleep I’ve had in a really long time (including right after Ian was born). I think I got about 5 hours total, but woke up about every hour and a half, either to Ian crying (the amazing sleeper was not amazing that night), my bum shoulder aching (how convenient), or my race nerves raring to go.
I got up at 5:30am and got ready. And I didn’t freak out about how tired I was. That’s another miracle. More than that, I was able to thank God for the opportunity to see that if I was going to run this race it was going to be with His strength and not mine. I know that sounds so Christian cheezy, but it was really true.
Jason went down to the starting line with me and hung out while I warmed up, used the porta-a-potties, and figured out where I was going to line up. At about 7:25 I got into the pack. And then at 7:30 I started running.
The race itself was absolutely amazing. As I started off, it was such a cool feeling to be running with thousands of other people. Everyone was excited and optimistic. I’ve experienced that before with smaller road races, but I had forgotten how neat it was.
We ran through the city streets first and I remember at one point a lady on the side yelling out “Have a good race!” And I thought “Yes I will, thank you very much!” That’s how great I felt, mentally and physically.
I spent a lot of my race just talking to God. Talking to Him about Him. Talking to Him about this journey I’ve been on the last few months. Talking to Him about Beacon College and asking Him to remind people to pray for the kids there. I prayed for Elysia & Justus (who were running a half marathon in LA at the very same time), and Jason & Ian.
I remember several times thinking about Psalm 19–”The heavens declare the glory of God, the skies proclaim the work of his hands” as I looked out on the water and the beach, the park we ran through, the city streets, and the fall colors.
I thought about how Paul says that we are to run with endurance the race set before us. And out of that I realized this: A lot of times I don’t know what the race looks like, or where the course will go on any given day. But on that morning I could actually physically see it. I could see myself moving forward, gaining ground. I thought to myself “this is exactly where I’m supposed to be right now.” And there’s no better feeling than when you know you’re walking in the will of God. It was awesome.
As for my pace, from the very start I tried to pick it up a bit, knowing that Jason was right and I could push myself (a little bit). About three miles in I wondered if I had started out too fast because I’d passed quite a few people, but that didn’t turn out to be the case. I just kept going. I felt like I slowed down a little at about mile 8 or 9, but picked back up again in the last few miles.
To be honest, for most of the race I didn’t really know how much ground I’d covered. All the signs were in kilometers and I didn’t even know how many kilometers the race was (21–I had to ask another runner). And of the signs that were posted, I missed a lot of them anyway.
The first time I saw Jason, Ian & Mother Teresa was I think at about mile three and at that time I told Jason I didn’t want to know how I was doing. When I saw him at I think six miles I forgot to ask. And then the last time I saw him I wanted to know my mileage.
He didn’t know but a nice lady with a fancy gadget on her wrist pulled up next to me and told me we had come 11.42 miles. I looked at my watch and it said 1:36, I think.
“Do you think I’ll make it in under two hours?”
“No, I don’t think so, but you’ll make it under 2:10,” said Jason.
I ran off and thought to myself, “that doesn’t seem right. I think I’m going faster than that.” But I didn’t do the math, I just kept going.
At two kilometers to go, I thought “I think this is actually possible.” And at 1 kilometer I thought “Yes, it is possible!” I kicked it up and sped off to the finish line, really sprinting those last several hundred meters. I looked at my watch and it said 1:59 and some odd seconds.
Jason didn’t get a photo of me crossing the finish line. He thought I’d be coming in a minute or two later, only to find me already waiting in line to get my chip removed from my shoe. My official time was 1:59:24.
Here’s a little video I put together with the footage Jason took:
What an experience–the whole thing, from the first contemplation of running a half, through the training and to the finish line. I will never forget it.
It required self-discipline, some embracing of the unknowns (can I really stick with this? what if I don’t meet my goal? can I push myself farther?), some humbling, a lot of prayer, and a whole lot of fun. It was worship for me. And I really need that right now in my walk with God. Thank you, Lord.
It was a pleasure and a joy to tell you about Pilgrim’s Beacon College and to pray for the kids there who are recovering from a life of child soldiering while I ran. Thank you to all of you prayed for them, too, or gave a donation to to the organization. I raised a total of $125.
Thank you to my husband who could see that I needed to do this, accomodated my training schedule, and then in the end pushed me a little bit farther. Thank you to Ian who came along on most of my runs. And to Mom who traveled with us and took care of Ian so I could run and Jason could cheer me on.
I also want to thank all of you who have asked me how my training was going and took an interest in this part of my life. It felt great to know you were supporting me.
Will I do a marathon now? I don’t think so, at least not yet. But another half? I hope so. And then maybe I’ll think about that marathon again. :)
The half marathon is on Sunday. I am almost there.
These are my running shoes. They were bright white and shiney metallic, fresh out of the box when all of this training started.
About three weeks ago I tried to retire them for a new pair I could break in before the race. But they wouldn’t let me go. After three pairs of replacements returned to the store, I came back to them. They have been so good to my feet and the others just didn’t feel right. It was if they were protesting, “We did all these miles, too. Don’t think you’re going to ditch us on race day. We want our glory!”
I understand, shoes. I don’t blame you. I guess I want a little glory, too.
Conversation with my shoes aside, I am really excited for this race. There’s a little part of me that wonders if I can withstand the mental challenge, especially in those last three miles, but most of me is raring to go. I’ve been hesitant to share my goal, but here it is: 10 minute miles. That will put me in at a little over 2 hours and 10 minutes. I think I can do it, I’m pretty sure I can do it . . . we will see.
As for my fundraising for child soldiers through Pilgrim, it looks as though no one has donated anything to the cause. I am disappointed by this, BUT there is still a couple days left before the race! Please, please consider giving to this great organization who is helping children in Uganda heal from their lives as child soldiers in the LRA. Visit Pilgrim’s donation page to do so (enter amount next to EHaggard Race). If you’re reading about this for the first time, please vist my half marathon web page.
Lastly, if you think about me on Sunday during the hours of 7:30am-10am PST, please not only pray for me as I run, but also pray for the kids at Pilgrim’s Beacon Collegeand all children affected by child soldiering (which occurs not just in Africa but in many parts of the world). You can see photos of the kids at Beacon and pray for them by name at Pilgrim’s website. I will be praying with you.
Also, if you think of me on Sunday, please comment on my web page, it will be really encouraging to me when I return home from the race.
My fantastic husband will be cheering me on and will of course be taking photos and probably video, so you can look forward to it next week. We’ll also try to catch as much of Victoria as we can and share it with you all.
Saturday Ian turned ten months old. He’s progressed and changed in so many ways in the last couple months, it’s hard to remember and report it all, but I will do my best.
We’ll start with food because I think that’s always a good place to start. Ian will pretty much eat anything, but his favorites right now are roasted potatoes, whole wheat pancakes or toast, blueberries and broccoli. He’s developed his pincer grasp and he’s got 4 teeth (and 3 more coming in) so he can manage feeding himself most of the time. Right now he’s in a carbo loading stint, but he’s also had a protein phase and a cheerio inhaling phase.
In the last week Ian has had his first lick of an ice cream cone and his first cheetoo. These happened when he was in Dad’s arms and I wasn’t looking. I didn’t mind the ice cream (as you can tell) but was a bit disturbed about the cheetoo since Jason shoved the whole thing in Ian’s mouth. We are all still alive, though.
I’m not sure if this will always be the case, but it seems that where Ian meets and exceeds developmental milestones is in the physical activity department. He can pull himself up to a standing position and hold on with one hand. In the past couple days he’s showing more interest in walking if we are holding his arms up.
Ian’s also motoring around very quickly and can make it up the stairs by himself. We go up with him and cheer when he gets to the top. He loves it. We haven’t found a way to block off the stairs going up so he tries a lot to climb them when we’re not by his side. One time he made it all the way up and was playing in the bathroom before I noticed. After my heart stopped pounding, I thanked God Ian didn’t try to come back down the stairs!
In September Ian finished up his tot swimming lessons and had his first experience “kicking” the soccer ball around with Dad. He’s also been really great about being pushed along in the BOB when I go on my runs (not that that’s really strenuous for him). He usually lulls himself into comatose state until we get home. Then he’s excited because he gets to chew on my water bottle while I do some stretching.
Ian’s also become very aware of music. If he hears it on the computer, on the TV or in the car he starts bobbing up and down. He loves when we dance with him. He’s discovered he can reach up and plunk away on the keys of the piano, so last week I pulled out the little piano that Noah gave him to see what he would think of the pint-sized version. He spent a good ten minutes banging away (both on the keys and on the wood top) in his room by himself . We brought it downstairs and put it next to the big piano and he’s managed to start playing them both at the same time.
Ian’s most consistent little playmate is Alaythia. They spend at least two or three days a week with each other and have become good buds.
I see Ian’s good-natured but very physical personality come out most when he’s with Alaythia. She’ll sit happily in one place, nesting cups, pulling things in and out of boxes, pushing buttons, pulling knobs on toys. By the time she’s done studying one toy Ian has circled the room three times, tried to topple a lamp over, found a piece of food on the floor and shoved it in his mouth, and then come over and grabbed her face and/or hair for a follow-up snack. He’s not mean-spirited about any of it (though sometimes slightly ornery). Mainly he’s just exploring and excited.
Speaking of ornery, that’s a good way of putting Ian’s difficult times, which really aren’t all that bad yet. When he’s tired or annoyed he will scrunch up his face at you. If he’s doing something he’s not supposed to do sometimes he’ll laugh in a slightly rebellious sort of way, since he’s glad he’s gotten everybody’s attention. He’s also taken to dropping food and his sippy cup off of his tray when he doesn’t want them anymore. He’s not angry in these times, just mildly annoyed things are not as he thinks they should be. When he does get frustrated is when he’s forced to lie still while he’s getting changing or I take an object away from him that he’s excited about.
Ian’s had some more firsts, too: his first ferry ride, his first visit to a pumpkin patch, his first petting zoo experience with a mild-mannered goat, and his first cut (from a faceplant into the staircase). He also recently had a visit from Grandpa Brad & Linda and Jordan & Elysia have returned from Europe, so he’s gotten a lot of hugs, snuggles, and smiles. Elysia’s been especially entertaining for him (while I get some kid-free moments).
That’s about it (well, not really, but it’ll do for now). If you want to know more, you’ll just have to come visit and see the little bugger for yourself.
Here are September and October’s photos, for your viewing enjoyment.
Today is Jason & I’s two year wedding anniversary. WE MADE IT THIS FAR.
The first six months of our marriage was sort of like going to the dentist to get a root canal WITHOUT novacaine. The second six months were a hesitant, hopeful recovery with the thought of going back to the dentist slowly losing its ability to induce a nervous breakdown.
Here's us after that first six months. We made it and we're okay. In fact, we're 4 months pregnant with Ian.
In year two, things kept improving, actually in a very natural sort of way. Thank you, Lord. It was sort of like going for your yearly cleaning and maybe being scolded to floss more, but generally getting a clean bill of dental health (why am I drawing out this metaphor??).
We still have a lot to learn. We still have that same repetitive argument. There are insecurities, fears, selfishness, pride, unforgiveness. These things need to be toppled over. I pray it is day by day. But there is more grace, more acceptance, more hopefullness that we are becoming the people and the couple God wants us to be. We also have gotten our eyes off of ourselves and each other and onto our delightful son, friends, and family.
We’re laughing a lot more and just generally having more fun. One of the biggest ways is with food. We love cooking it, musing over it, enjoying the restaurant experience (like this place, which was AMAZING). For someone who has struggled with food & body image issues in the past, this is really redemptive. And it’s special for Jason because one day he wants to start a restaurant and he’s trying to convince me to go along with his crazy plans (which are slowly starting to sound less and less crazy).
If the Lord wills it, we will have many more years together. And I hope so, because it seems there is so much more to learn about each other and about Jesus.
Thanks to everyone who’s helped us and prayed for us on our journey so far. It has been quite a journey!
Summer is gone. This is what the end looked like. I think it had a nice way of saying goodbye.
Fall is officially underway. Of course there was that Saturday a few weeks ago when I thought it had arrived and thus made pumpkin soup and bread bowls on what turned out to be an 80-degree day. With the stove and oven on the house was a bit warm that evening. But that is neither here nor there.
Now the temperature has dropped and we’ve had a bit of rain. But more than that, you can feel fall in the air; it leaves cheeks ruddy and eyes a little watery.
Since I’m a woman of ritual, here are some of my fall-ish tasks, some new, some old:
put an extra quilt on the bed
refresh my stock of pillar candles
put on a pair of my beloved Costco wool socks (and keep them on until May)
buy Ian this year’s earflap hat
plug in the space heater and give it a hug for getting me through last winter
stock up on Halloween candy. Yes, I know I will eat most of it but those five trick-or-treaters will be grateful
say hello to the dutch oven and (this time) unabashedly make soup in it
eat a caramel apple
pull out Ian’s next round of clothes–corduroys, fuzzy sweatshirts, blue jeans, flannel
Why, might you ask, am I making you look at a picture of a bunch of guys on a beach exposing their pasty white thighs and their unfortunate lack of clothing sensibility?
If you look closely, you might recognize someone. Or maybe you won’t. He certainly doesn’t look like he used to (well, except for the thighs, those look about the same).
If you know the Haggards then you certainly know the someone I am referring to in this photo. And no, it’s not the guy with the red afro.
Alright, I’ll tell you. That head-shaven, weird facial hair-wearing, white supremacist looking guy the second to the left? That’s my husband. He’s the one that’s at least ten years older than all the guys in this photo and yet still wearing women’s magenta running shorts. I know, it’s very confusing.
Granted this was on a beach in Italy and many things are fair game in Europe that aren’t here, especially when it comes to clothing (or lack thereof). And, it was also a Young Life function and everybody knows that when you’re a part of that organization it’s a rite of passage to make a fool of yourself.
Excuses aside, you are probably still wondering the point of all of this. It’s not to make fun of Jason (well, mostly not to make fun ). Obviously he didn’t care then what he looked like or how he was perceived and I don’t think he cares now. But I guess that’s the point of what I’m trying to say. My husband doesn’t care about appearances.
That’s why on one of our first dates he showed up in a bucket hat, mock turtleneck (let’s all admit right now those are NEVER making a comeback), a fleece he got out of a lost & found, and black and neon yellow striped sneakers (sneakers unfortunately not pictured).
I, on the other hand, have a long, strained, arduous relationship with appearances. I have loved to keep them up. I have loved to look good, far more than I should. I have loved to intimidate people by making them think, at least on the outside looking in, that I have it all together.
Although I knew that God was digging this out of my heart before I met Jason, marrying him pretty much cemented it in stone. Hence, the magenta shorts. And the weird dancing thing he does sometimes when he’s worshipping at church. Or the loud off-key singing. Or the long, drawn out stories he tells in social settings that have no point and don’t seem to go anywhere. You’re getting the drift.
At the beginning of our relationship, at least in my mind, these things were not harmless idiosyncracies. They were a threat to my personal appearance. And so I chastised him and tried to get him to stop being so much of himself. I know that’s wrong, but that’s the honest truth.
Well, we’re almost two years into marriage and I am happy to say that’s changing. This was obvious to me to me a few weeks ago when I went on a bike ride at my mom’s house. I didn’t have my normal gear so I had to make do with what she had.
What that looked like was this: me riding an old lady bike–you know the ones with the high handlebars and the really big padded seats (sorry Mom, but it’s true). My attire included those diaper-ish spandex bike shorts, gaudy sunglasses and a black leather fanny pack. There I was riding down a country road, big trucks passing me, and the bike making a squeaking noise with every full turn of the pedals.
(At this point you are probably hoping for a photo of me, all decked out. I am not lying when I say I just didn’t think to take one. I promise I would’ve shown you if I had.)
I’ll be honest, I did feel a little sheepish pulling out of her driveway, but pretty soon I stopped caring and I actually enjoyed myself!
Jason has taught me that loving people and enjoying life is far more important than appearances. He wore those short shorts because in some strange way that was loving a bunch of teenage guys. And heck, he was in Italy and of course you have to bring stories for the folks back home (even if they don’t have a point to them).
All this to say I love Jason for his pasty white thighs and his choice in women’s fashion. But more than that I love that God is working on my heart through my husband, just the way he is.
P.S. I apologize to you young men who are included in the photo. I don’t know who you are, but by now you are probably much older and wiser and desperately seeking to forget those shorts.
Today starts week 10 of my half marathon training. On Sunday I ran my longest run yet–eight miles. Actually, it’s the longest run I’ve done since high school. And of course it wouldn’t have been complete without a torrential downpour during the last 30 minutes of it.
No I did not go to Harvard. If I had, I would be crazy and doing an Ironman.
If I look happy in this photos it’s because I actually AM happy (and not because I just finished). Jason ran the first lap with me around Greenlake, then I ran a second by myself and ran home from there. It was so much fun.
In fact, fun has pretty much been the standard concerning this training experience. There have been a few days where I just haven’t felt like hitting the pavement, but for the most part the time has been really beneficial for me in numerous ways. And despite what the photo shows, I have had great weather most of the time.
The only hiccup I’ve had is a small bike accident . . . which is a bit embarassing. I fell over onto our neighbor’s parked boat when my bike chain locked as I was coming up the hill to our house. Thankfully, I wasn’t going very fast, the boat came away unscathed, and no one was around to see it happen
My time running and biking has also been really great for me spiritually. Sometimes I listen to sermons or worship music, other times I just run in silence to clear my mind and relax. At some point during almost all my runs I pray. And that’s a big deal to me because it’s been a long time since I’ve enjoyed praying for an extended period of time. Obviously, there are other factors involved in why I’m feeling this way, but doing something I love is helping.
Photo courtesy of World Vision
One thing I am praying for in my workout time are former child soldiers in Uganda. As you recall from my previous post, I am looking for people to come alongside me in my training efforts and pray and/or donate funds to Pilgrim’s Beacon College in Uganda.
Beacon is a school where kids are being healed from their life as child soldiers, acclamating back into society, receiving an education, and meeting Jesus. I have really enjoyed praying for these kids. In the past I have felt like there’s nothing I can do to help people suffering, but this time I really believe that God hears my prayers and that they are making a difference, even if only the eyes of my faith can see it.
I know that everyone has a lot on their mind and that the economy is certainly influencing our financial decisions, but please consider getting involved in some way. Maybe it’s just praying for these kids every time you read this blog or maybe it’s something more. If you’d like to, you can meet Beacon’s students here and even sponsor one if you like.
Although I don’t have to know if you’re participating, I would really like to. I’ve created a separate page on the blog (along the top of the web page, entitled “Half Marathon“) that talks about former child soldiers and about Pilgrim’s work in Uganda. I’ve added more resources and photos, so please do check it out.
If decide to get involved you can comment here or there, drop me an email, or tell me in person. Also, if you know anyone who you think would be interested in what I’m doing, please do send them a link to the blog.
If your heart is entrenched in some other cause, I would love to know about that, too. There is so much that God is calling us to do to be a part of His redemptive work in the world. It’s encouraging to hear what people care about.
So Elisabeth and Ian came back from a visit to Mother Teresa’s last Monday. I picked them up from the airport and was really surprised at how much Ian had grown, even in the five days they were gone. An interesting thing happened that night though. I am not sure if it was due to their return, but I sort of think so.
It was around 1 o’clock in the morning that first night and I fly out of bed and slam into the wall. Still in a daze, Elisabeth asked what was wrong. Still in a daze, I say something about thinking she was a snake, crawl back into bed and return to sleep.
The following morning, I notice a not-so-superficial gash on my left forearm and vaguely remember catching it on the night stand.
Now all of that would be interesting and worth a conversation, but not a blog. It was the next night that makes this blog worthy.
That night, again around 1 o’clock. I shoot out of bed and firmly tell Elisabeth to get out of the room.
“Elisabeth, get out of the room!”
“What!”
“Quick, get out of the room!”
“What!”
“Go, go, go!”
“What!”
I shoo her out of the room, push her through the door, and by her accout, “act mean”. I shut the door behind her and proceed to look for the green King Cobra that I am positive is under the covers of our bed. Cautiously, I lift up the blanket. I shake out the sheet, but alas, no King Cobra.
After making absolutely sure that there is no snake in the bed, I go in to the bathroom where Elisabeth is sitting on the toliet and tell her about the snake. Understandably she is upset, but I don’t really notice, because I’m not really awake. We both go back to our snake-free bed, but at this point we have woken up Ian (and when I say “we”, I mean me). I sort of hear him crying, but after only a few moments I am fast asleep.
The next day I find out that after I fell asleep, Elisabeth listened to Ian cry, got back up, feed him, soothed him back to sleep, all the while frustrated that I had put her in this predicament. I tried to make it up to her. I said I was really sorry. I tried really hard to suppress my smiles.
We laugh about it now and I am proud to report there haven’t been any snakes in our bed since.
Jason decided it was high time we went for a hike, since we’ve been saying we want to, the summer’s almost over, and our behinds still hadn’t made it up any mountains.
I use the past tense hadn’t instead of haven’t, because that is no longer the case. We hiked up to Annette Lake this last Saturday. The trail is located a few exits past North Bend and we’ve been there before snowshoeing, but only got a mile or so in.
I guess I just assumed we would be going on a light one or two hour trip since we have a 9 month old. But no, that is not what we did. We did a very strenuous uphill climb that took about 5 hours roundtrip. Praise the Lord the weather has cooled down. If it hadn’t, I would’ve turned around halfway through the hike and huffed and puffed down the mountain with that sweaty little body of Ian’s strapped to my back.
As it was, we still worked up quite the sweat, while also attempting to get eaten alive by biting flies and large mosquitoes. The funny thing is, just the night before we were sitting outside and Jason said “You know, we’ve got it made here in Seattle. Not many people can sit out on their deck at dusk and there not be bug in site to bother them.”
I am exaggerating about pretty much all of this so far. The bugs were only bad when we stopped and don’t worry, I didn’t get stung by the nest of bees I sat down by to breastfeed. The hike was strenuous, but it’s surprisingly more exhausting when you are whining and complaining that you are carrying the backpack which you are insisting is heavier than carrying the baby (and being right about it), while also holding a grudge against your husband for not forwarning you of a cliff climb and telling you it was fine to wear your running shoes instead of your sturdy, ankle-supportive hiking boots.
Anyway . . .
My humbling came in two parts.
The first time happened halfway up the mountain. We were stopped and I was trying to find a legitimate reason why we should turn around and go back. Awful but true, I have been known to shroud my selfish motivations with excuses like ”I think Ian’s getting tired or hungry or he’s upset” when usually it’s me that’s tired, upset, hungry or just plain about to have an emotional breakdown.
While I was changing Ian’s diaper, a nice older lady and her husband caught up with us. She was friendly and went on about how she had never been on the trail but the picture of the lake in her guidebook made it look absolutely beautiful. Jason responded with something to the effect of ”Well, we’re not sure if the little guy is going to last up to the top.”
The nice lady threw her hand back and said “Oh, he’ll be fine. We strapped our kids to our backs and hiked all over the place and they were happy as a clam. They don’t care.”
And she was right and I knew it. So we packed up and I prayed for an attitude adjustment.
The second part of my humbling came when we finally got to the top. The lady was right, the lake was beautiful and all that work was very much worth it. If I would’ve insisted we bail the three of us would’ve missed out on seeing an absolutely beautiful place. The picture doesn’t do it justice at all.
How many times do I do that, get bothered and quit? Too many times to mention. I don’t want to think about all the things I’ve missed out on.
BTW, Jason, being the nice person that he is, did not rub any of this in my face. Though I would’ve if I were him.
We sat on the shore (next to the nice lady) and had snacks and enjoyed the view. She was even was even kind enough to give me napkins to insert into a previously used wet diaper when Ian had a major poop and I didn’t have a clean diaper on hand to put on him.
The trek down the mountain was so much better having a full stomach, a better attitude and the hard work behind us. We stopped at a waterful that Ian got very excited about. He even dipped his little fingers in the freezing cold water and seemed to find it exhilarating.
Things got even better when we stopped at the DQ and had a large Blizzard of the Month (Girl Scout Thin Mint). Jason even allowed me to devour the first half before telling me to slow down so he could have some. What a nice husband I have.
