{Bittersweet}

I could sit here and tell you all day how much it has SUCKED not being able to continue my marathon training for the last three weeks. I could tell you that I feel like a lump on a log and I am green with envy for every passing runner that I spy on the road. I could tell you that I was jealous the last couple weekends watching my family and friends bike in the Best Dam Bike ride for MS and missing out on the alumni run. I could go into detail of all the bitterness I feel about being immobile, unable, weak, nonproductive… motionless… static. I am just not where I wanted to be at this point in training.

Apparently this injury has been “interesting”… ask the three doctors, PT and the many medical friends I have conversed with regarding this rigmarole over the last three weeks. One softball to the shin and although it felt like it was healing three days later… it was really just the calm before the storm. The hematoma on my shin drained blood into my ankle. There was no defying gravity there! This pooling blood locked up my joint mobility and made pressure {just standing up} on my right leg extremely painful. The way the PT explained it: the ankle was swelling due to the blood taking up a lot more space than what is naturally there – and all the joints and ligaments were not really sure what to do so it basically shut down the limb on an impulse to deal with the unexpected company.

Not like I need an ankle to walk or anything, right?

So here is am, reflecting on this unpleasant situation. Maybe, I could have avoided this with better attention to the healing process or maybe I should have listened to my husband about seeing a doctor before my walking was disrupted, and so I have learned. Should have, would have, could have – who knows, but I have learned not to push healing. It is an act of patience, which I have very little of, but an act I need to practice more often.

Would you believe me if I told you that the sweet undertones of this storm came out like crashing waves and filled these bitter black holes?

• Officially, had my very first appointment with a Physical Therapist, who changed my life. I know some PTs on a personal level, I hear awesome stories about their powers and now, I have had the pleasure of experiencing PT for myself. I am changed forever, for the better. His number one focus is mine: getting back to marathon training in a jiffy! He also made me realize how lucky I have been – never needing to see a PT until the ripe age of 30. Just kidding, he called me “young” but lucky for the long “in-good-health” history I own, nonetheless.
• People are awesome. Yes, I know most of the time we joke about how much people suck, but when you have family, friends and CO-WORKERS like mine… People. Are. Awesome. The support, flexibility and encouragement to heal has been unreal. I cannot say thank you enough for all of it.
• I am more than a bum leg. I couldn’t be a good wife. I couldn’t be a productive mom. I couldn’t be a runner or a biker. There were times I felt like I couldn’t be a superstar employee, co-worker or friend, but through some amazing advice from one of them – I am learning that I am more than an injury. Remove the focus from the CAN’T and put energy into the CAN. Harder said than done – but great advice and mentality when dealing with an injury.
• An act of kindness goes A LONG WAY. I was the recipient of an amazing act of kindness that has motivated me to perform ONE {out of my way} RANDOM {non-celebrated, non-talked about, anonymous} act of kindness a week for someone in need. A co-worker was feeling bad that I wasn’t running yet and she left a personal note of motivation and encouragement on my desk. Along with it she left a tank top that says: LOVE TO RUN. I was overjoyed that she thought of me. I am determined to be MORE thoughtful like her.
• Progress is more important than perfection. As the days pass and the pain fades away I feel more reward in the progress than ever before. With marathon training, I tend to want everything to be perfect. Perfect plan, perfect execution, perfect discipline and perfect results. It is so far from that. I will need to repeat this mantra once I get back into training. Progress is more important than perfection. EVERYONE I ask informs me that these few weeks on the sideline will not hurt me on race day – but my perfectionism is really creeping in. How can I finish a marathon if I have already failed the plan?

PROGRESS IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN PERFECTION.

Mind over body.

Adventure and challenge await.

I practice patience for the green light.

I smell the day when this bittersweet feeling sweats away with a long productive run.

{29.85 done | 386 to go}

I know this may not be a surprise to you… but I have already messed up my marathon training plan!

{Really, Jax… really!?}

My calculations were off and now I am “behind” on my miles! Thankfully, I am only adding a couple more miles than expected to get back on track – but behind, nonetheless, right out of the gates. Not a good motivating feeling.

So here’s where we are at. Square one. Below are the miles I have already completed over the last couple weeks – what they account to, I am not sure yet:

7-11 | 1.54 miles

7-12 | 1.54 miles

7-14 | 2.96 miles

7-16 | 4.9 miles

7-18 | 3.19 miles

7-19 | 3.47 miles

7-22 | 3.25 miles

7-23 | 6 miles

7-25 | 3 miles

Not willing to calculate the loss right now, but planning to close the gap. Seeing what’s been done and looking at the miles mapped out ahead {using Hal Higdon’s Novice 1 Training Plan} I have calculated the total amount of miles I will have completed on November 6^th at the start line. {Adding the completed above miles to the ones still needed to be done} I came up with this:

415.85

Wow.

Scary. Daunting. Quite terrifying, actually…

No more room for screwing up. I got a lot of work to do before November.

But a challenge I am up for.

Bring it on.

29.85 done | 386 to go

Oh, and if you are contemplating new running shoes, I recommend you check out the great people of Performance Running Outfitters. They fit me for my first pair of ASICS and I am kind of obsessed with them. Check out my new kicks.

Many Blessings and Cheers, Jax

{Forward}

It’s been a sad few weeks in the world. I have written quite a bit and I have collected posts that I wanted to share but I can’t seem to find a flow of words that fit this white space appropriately. And to top it off, my other anxiety is that everyone is so easily offended these days. I promise that I am not looking to hurt anyone’s feelings. I just want to be able to protect my brothers and sisters and I want the confidence that they will {and can} do the same for me when I am in trouble or suffering.

If we truly love each other like brothers and sisters then we would support each other. We would lift each other up no matter culture, sexuality, race, political views, religion, gender or economic status. By supporting each other it doesn’t always mean we all have to agree on the same personal or life choices. If we could learn from our differences, grow from trials and tribulations and become genuinely compassionate for each other I wonder how different things would be.

A buzz phrase comes to mind… Move the nation forward.

How do we determine the definition of “forward”? And when moving “forward”… which, if “forward” means by the hand of time, we don’t really have another option, right? So what “forward” is the right “forward” when there are so many opinions and options? How do we track milestones or victories or fix the wrongs along the way? How do we change the course when it gets stormy? And when we have a trader, spy or tragedy how do we ensure we are fighting the enemies rather than our own teammates? How do we regulate our moral compass? How do we make the wrongs, right again?

This is my heartache. With every beat, I pray for us as a nation.

It’s our world’s heart complication, to be honest. And where is God in all of this?

While our world changes and evolves, tragedy is a constant, so how do we move forward in faith? This is a GREAT article, maybe even one of my favorites: Where Is God in Tragedy? Looking for meaning and hope in a broken world. {It’s a long post but in my humble opinion – it’s really one of the best I have read in a looooong time.} These lines really sit with me: “Pain is the soil where the deepest kind of faith in God grows. Pain is the context for maturing our love for God, so we can love God foremost.” It is in pain that I, personally, grow my love for God. It is Him who heals. Through my pain His light shines the brightest. Those are the times I feel Him the most.

I feel like we have been moving “forward” at a pretty fast pace. But if this scope of “forward” is the intention, I am curious what backwards looks like in comparison. It’s sad to think that all the luxury we have as Americans is more damage than good to our intentions. What would happen if we replaced our indulgences with God’s will for us? What if we would sit with Him and accept his guidance?

A time to kill and a time to heal. A time to tear down and a time to build up. – Ecclesiastes 3:3

What are you doing to build up? How are you moving forward?

{Plan B}

Well… The Thursday before our vacation I missed my flight home from work travel. Normally, missing a flight would be expected and laughable, considering I have been extra spacey lately, but this flight was important! It was going to get 296 miles closer to vacation!

We had it all planned out. I would fly into Chicago around 3 pm, Tyler would pick Sal up from school around that same time and begin the drive to Florida, scooping me up from Chicago O’Hare airport along the way.

About 20 minutes before my plane would board, I jetted to the bathroom. When I returned to my seat I expected to hear our flight called for boarding, but… nada. I finally felt concerned. Why have we not boarded yet? I looked at my watch. That’s when the panic HIT HARD. 2:47 pm. THAT WAS THE TIME MY FLIGHT WAS SCHEDULED TO DEPART!

I freaked… ran around like a chicken with my head cut off. I am sure the bystanders enjoyed the show. I realized that after my trip to the bathroom I took a wrong turn back to the gate. I never noticed that I was only a couple gates down from where I was supposed to be! I booked it like a bat out of hell – thinking MAYBE {just maybe} they held it. As I approached the gate I saw the status in uppercase letters.

Flight 5248 to Chicago O’Hare: DEPARTED.

NOOOOOO! I need to get to vacation! They didn’t understand. I only had about 7 hours of sleep in the last two days combined. I needed to finish the week strong at work and the goal was to get rid of all the stress before I was away. And although I was just feeling like a rock star no more than 10 minutes ago, I was now standing in front of the service counter looking like a big loser.

And the cherry on top? All flights were booked for the rest of the day.

As Tyler and I {with other family as witnesses} discussed before I left – if anything happened and for some odd, unforeseen, outlandish {Jackie misses her flight} reason that I did not get on the flight, Tyler told me to rent a car and drive to Indy. There, he and Sal would pick me up on the way.

And here I was, calling Tyler to let him know I missed my flight. He might have thought I was joking at first, but he calmed down when he realized it was not a joke. It could have been my hyperventilating that gave it away.

Plan B.

As I got to the car rental I was feeling like a major idiot. WHO SITS AT THE WRONG GATE AND MISSES THEIR FLIGHT? {This may or may not be the 2^nd time I have done this. No questions will be answered on that topic from here on out.} I shuffled my feet to a little, charcoal gray Chevy rental car. I threw my stuff in the passenger seat, programed the Waze app to lead me to Indy and cranked up the music.

The station was already tuned in. Good, Good Father by Chris Tomlin was playing on STAR 93.3. I felt like I was smacked in the face. Plan B was not my plan. It was not Tyler’s either. It was His. {I was in such disbelief, I had to take a picture!}

Cause you are perfect in all of your ways

You are perfect in all of your ways

You are perfect in all of your ways to us

 I spent most of that 90 minute drive to Indy in conversation with the Lord. I am not perfect. I am not Him. But no matter what I have in mind for my plan, His perfect plan will prevail. As if I needed to be reminded again that I am not in control… it was a much needed token of God’s hand in my life. It also reminded me that He wanted to spend time with me on that day and over those last two crazy days, I must have neglected Him more than I should have.

Thank you Lord for bringing Plan B to fruition for me on that day. It is your will that will be done. Please give me strength, confidence and ability to make the right decisions so that every time I end up in a situation where I am struggling, I find you present and feel your guidance.

You’re a Good, Good Father

(You are perfect in all of your ways)

It’s who you are, it’s who you are, it’s who you are

And I’m loved by you

(You are perfect in all of your ways)

It’s who I am, it’s who I am it’s who I am

Many Blessings and Cheers, Jax

{Perspective}

I am an emotional writer. I feel the best words come from the rawest emotions. I can be an emotional person, too. And these are not always feelings I am proud of.

I can let things stew with me. I can be bogged down with all the ‘should haves’, ‘could haves’, ‘would haves’ of life. I still feel weight of mistakes and poor choices of my past. Being a perfectionist is not my ideal goal in life but it seems no matter how hard I try, it will be the forever shadow as I walk {and run} through my  journey.

I care so much {maybe too much} about what people may think if I say this or write that. What if people judge me? What if they think I am a weird, stupid or bad person? What if I cause a misunderstanding? What will people say if they know about all the mistakes and the dumb decisions I have made? Will they like me less? Are people judging my poor grammar skills? Will my friends think differently about me if they see me in my darker moments? How much is too much when sharing? Sometimes these questions fuel my lack of decision making… Indecisiveness. Withdrawal. Detachment.

Back in high school I had a huge group of really awesome girlfriends. They were all talented, supportive, beautiful, and the boys wanted to date 99.9% more of them than me. I was the “friend” not usually the girlfriend. But I looked up to all those babes. I wanted learn their secrets and take their advice! How can I be like them!? And we use to play this game at sleepovers. This awful game. We would write a negative trait and a positive trait about each girl in the room on a piece of paper, fold them up and shake them in a bowl. Each of us would pick these papers out of the bowl and read them out loud for the group to hear what everyone thought about each other. There were long heart-to-heart conversations, tears and hugs, but most of all there was genuine honesty among a bunch of girlfriends learning how to cope with the brutality of adolescent life.

I often think about that game and wish I could make everyone tell me {honestly} what am I doing well and what do I need to work on to become a better person, to serve my friends and family more. I feel like that honesty was a highlight in my life. I trusted those girls and knowing that they were being true and heartfelt… It made me want to fix things about myself to become more likeable and a better friend to them. It gave me new perspectives on my actions. And made me realize that my {selfish} perspective on life really doesn’t matter if people believe differently about me than I do.

What writing has done for me is more than I would have expected when I started. It has become an open dialogue about experience, good, bad, ugly… You name it. It has brought honesty and opened more viewpoints than I would have imagined. I have been able to be exposed and free with my words, which unlocks the door for criticism and judgment. But the more I get people’s feedback, good and bad, the more I feel connected to the true heartbeats of others. I continue to write because I am listening. And I feel like I am changing.

One thing I have to constantly remind myself is, “What you don’t know, you don’t know.” Our perspectives are shaped by our personal beliefs we develop through our own personal experiences. Mine is very different than yours. And I don’t believe there is a hierarchy on anyone’s opinion but it does need to be understood that some perspectives will just be too distant to connect {insert strong debating opinions of Cincinnati Zoo incident here}.

Share your view. I am listening. I have graciously learned that if the person you are sharing with may have a different view, chances are, you will learn something that may change the way you look at things. And from my perspective, you wouldn’t want to miss it if it’s for your better.

Many Blessings and Cheers, Jax

{Brave}

I am not daring. I don’t gamble or take a lot of risks. I am quite timid – and often looking to avoid getting hurt {mentally, physically and emotionally}. I am full of fear. Deep down, I am the biggest wuss you might know.

But I am learning how to deal with it. How to deal with me. {If you are sick of reading this already, ask my husband what his secret is.}

But for reals. I am learning how to channel it.

Channeling aversion into action.

Channeling wait into opportunity.

Channeling sadness into purpose.

Channeling anger into motion.

Channeling time into memories.

{Fortunately or unfortunately – the jury is still out} I have an enthusiastic ebb and flow of emotions which may cause most the struggle and finally, I have found an outlet that allows me to drain the access anguish and fear out of my life.

Running.

It has allowed me to see some bright lights at the end of some pretty dark tunnels. It has helped me channel the destructive inner voice and boiling anxiety bottled up inside into productive and rewarding achievements. It feels like I defy pain more and more with every run. Heartache will be a staple of life from time to time {just like a bruised toe from a long run} but I have learned how to focus it. Channel it. Using these damaging emotions to better myself has been journey that I will continue to work on.

It feels like weights being removed from my chest over and over. It feels like I am getting closer and closer to freedom and I actually feel brave for the first time in my life.

With growing grit comes growing courage. And with growing courage comes growing goals.

Here is to reaching my next goal… I am ready to cross the finish line of a full marathon right in my hometown, MKE! And I am excited to say it will happen this November. {I have been saying it, but that was a little scary just typing it for real.}

Sign up for a 5k, half or full marathon today! Channel whatever is causing your suffering into a bigger goal. Training makes you brave. It makes you forget about life as you want it. Training makes you focus on life as you make it. This quote has been a driver for me lately:

Thanks for all your support and stay tuned for the “pursuit to my first full marathon” which will unfold right here on the blog.

Many Blessings and Cheers, Jax

{Recovery}

A few days after I had Sal, I was attempting to walk {basically strategically shuffling} from the bathroom to the hospital bed just as a nurse entered the room and watched me in shock. “On a scale of 1 to 10, how much pain are you in right now?” she asked, probing my response.

I shrugged my shoulders and said, “I don’t know, maybe a three.”

Tyler about had a knipshit and shrieked, “You are not a three – you can hardly walk right now. You are not a three!”

What did I know? All I was focused on was getting back to bed so I could cuddle that cute little baby.

They say that your race day should have equal days recovery as the miles completed. Recovery from a half marathon would mean 13 days before returning back to any strenuous workouts. Even after two hours and 12 minutes of the biggest challenge in my life, half a dozen ridiculous hills, two bruised toes, a blood blister the size of a quarter and a tweaked lower back, the battle wounds didn’t keep me from finishing the race and they sure as hell didn’t keep me from enjoying Nashville with my motivational running buddies.

Let me tell you how our recovery went from our first Rock’n’Roll Half Marathon. Directly after we left the Nissan Stadium we headed over to Smokin Thighs where we got our fill of some spicy BBQ and moonshine bloody marys. Yes, I said moonshine because that’s how they do it in the south. And since you can’t find a chaser outside of Wisconsin we sipped those down with a big. fat. beer. This is why Wisconsin girls need to run – because we like to eat and drink. a lot. {No shame here.}

From there, we went home to clean ourselves up before heading to The Gulch where we browsed some cute shops before heading downtown and hitting up dinner at the Broadway Brewhouse where I indulged in some great local beer, Jackalope Rompo Red Rye Ale to be exact. After roaming a few more crazy bars, having my eyes bullied by the excessive plaid and not-so cute cowboy boots, my ears began to bleed from country music. I was spent. It was all fabulous, but I was looking forward to putting my feet up for the night. They kind of deserved it.

This morning while listening to K-Love on the way to work they were asking listeners what they would do if God removed all risk of failure. I thought long and hard. Think about it – if you already please God in the highest possible way, you will never fail. Nothing you can do will ever fail Him. That is an amazing concept. And so peaceful. What would I do if God removed all risk of failure? Considering I live in constant fear of failure, also known as anxiety, I was quite surprised at what my answer was.

I would run a full marathon.

Next year the youngest of my lunch-time running buddies turns 26 years old. We said – what a perfect year to commit to a 26 mile race? Who knows if it will really happen, but for the first time in my life… I was genuinely interested. And I still am. If I could take on the challenge of 13 hilly miles and be honored with this amazing recovery and enlightenment, what would happen if I took on 26 miles?

Although some may say it was the moonshine, the perfect company or just basic old luck, recovery has been a breeze. Yes, despite the fact I can’t wear a shoe on my right foot yet, I am as happy as a clam. I can honestly say the best part of it all has been the runner’s high which hopefully will linger for several more days.

What I have learned through this experience, much like when I became a mother, is that pain can be a perception. It is an approach to how you solve the problem at hand. And even more, failure is not an option with God. What running offers me is a way to feel pain and a way to channel it productively. Ironically, it is a part of my life where I welcome agony and discomfort. I will work through it with every stride. I will continue to ask myself if this is pain that will make stop what I am trying to accomplish or if the finish-line holds greater triumphs for me. I actually find that the greater the pain, the more rewarding the victory.

I know I will always fail if I compare myself to others, but I gain big if I focus on growth and reward through my individual accomplishments. Running is my way to manipulate and appreciate the anguish of life. It seems that on every run I come face to face with the harsh realities that nothing is perfect. It seems like running is the best way to actually control the pain and I can find joy in the discomfort because I have gained confidence that it is only temporary, even if it doesn’t feel like it at that very instant, it will go away with time. So I choose to take the pain with the gain. And with time, I know I will reap the reward of recovery because it heals all wounds.

Many Blessings and Cheers, Jax

{Certainty}

I don’t know much. I am not the most confident person I know, but I am okay with telling you when I just don’t know.

I don’t know where Sal will go to 4k. I don’t know what sports he will find interest in or if he will be a good student.

I don’t know how to handle the fact that so many of our greatest friends live in different cities and states. And I don’t know how to close the distance, sometimes more than just physically…

I am unsure what I want to be when I grow up.

I don’t know if I will make it through my first half marathon at the end of this month. I don’t know if I will crack under pressure as I often do. I don’t know how long I will even enjoy running, because I am not sure I know how to deal with the time strain of training for events.

I am unsure if I have the answers when we are faced with difficult situations. I don’t know how to make stress go away. I don’t know how to say “no” when I should. I don’t know how to deal with anxiety and fear.

Sometimes, I feel like life is flooded more with hesitation, indecisiveness and wavering cliff hangers than I can carry. I don’t know what tragedies are ahead or what triumphs we will overcome. I don’t know if we will find a day that happiness and grief don’t share the same weight or if no matter how heavy they are, we hold our heads high anyway. I don’t know where life will leave us in five years or if we will ever have the growing family we continue to pray for.

But I do know one thing. It is the very most thing I know I am so certain about it. In fact, I would put my life on the line to prove how certain I know I am when I say, “I love you.” And within those three words, certainty fills me. All of a sudden, I feel so much more certain about the hesitation and questions that overflow life.

I have you.

And together as we make our journey through all this uncertainty, the anxiety and pressures of life fade out. Although I don’t know what it may bring, you give me clarity in tomorrow. You make not knowing what’s ahead easier to tackle. You are not fazed by the unknown; you face it head-on. You plow through it. You are certain. And I admire you for it.

You have the most generous heart and enough certainty to get us where we need to go. With you I am at peace. With you, I have certainty to be the best me.

Many Blessings and Cheers, Jax

{Golden}

I have never dreaded a birthday before. Also, never turned 30 before, so maybe fear and 30 are related? And, by golly it’s my lucky birthday because 30 just happens to be my golden birthday! Oh yay! {Don’t let the sarcasm smack you in the face.}

Golden, hey?

But really, life is like gold. No. I take that back – LIVING is like gold. Valuable. Highly sought-after. Precious. Shiny. Beautiful. Irreplaceable when lost.

So I am going to let this anxiety be coated in a shiny coat of gold, for now. Maybe this is the ideal way to enter the 30’s. Maybe this golden birthday is protective refuge from the reality of just that… growing old. This could be the slow transition into a new era, decade… {Oh my. This is too much.}

At about age 30 {according to Luke 3:23}, Jesus was baptized by John the Baptist, at the beginning of His public ministry of teaching and healing. Within three years He changed the world. By 33 He had died, rose and ascended into heaven. The bible accounts for all His good within those three short years.

Forget seeing this next journey as a decade. I see these next three years as crucial to my faith and journey with God. If this birthday is not a calling, I don’t know what is. I don’t think I could relate any more with His mission than now, at 30 years old. I am more and more open to this relationship. Nurturing my connection with God is at the forefront of this new decade. {Oh my, again, with the “decade” stuff…}

Someone once told me, “If you have health, you have no reason not to be happy.” As I fear the health concerns that may expose themselves in my later years {the joys of aging} I will practice faith and strength in His plan. I will continue to put health and fitness at the top of my mind and enjoy my health as it is today. I will bike because I can. I will run because I can. I will keeping moving forward every day because I am not limited. He moves through me and He pushes me to be better. As a biker. As a runner. As a human. Thy will be done. Your Spirit is alive through me. I can do all this through Him who gives me strength. Philippians 4:13

And so, this day I celebrate my golden birthday. With sustained hope, happiness and sparkle for life and LIVING a full, faithful journey. With the goal to walk in His footsteps and become like Him in His teachings.

Farewell 20’s. You were full of energy and charm. Some of my best memories will live with you forever and always. Don’t let me forget it. Don’t let me ever lose appreciation for those days.

Hello 30’s. Nice to meet you. Just want to warn you a little about my high expectations. My appetite for health and fitness is ravenous. And I am hoping you can offer me some life-enhancing enlightenment. Remind me of the rainbows after the storms. Do not let me get swallowed by my jaded thoughts. Allow the dark to fade and each sunrise to remind me of how lucky I am, over and over, every day forward.

Awaken me.

Breathe through me.

Let this year be golden.

Bring it on, new decade!

Bring me closer to my King.

Many Blessings and Cheers, Jax

{Hide your TV}

Last Saturday night we did our first Church + Dinner date with our good friends from the area. We do family dinners together pretty regularly and it is always fun to get the boys together to play while we adult, eat and drink. They have a three-year old little guy who has become Sal’s best bud over the years and they have grown up with each other since birth! Just recently over a family dinner we all discussed wanting to get back into church and being serious about getting the boys there.

We planned it.

It happened.

It felt great!

Although, if you ask Sal how he behaved at church he would admit, “I didn’t do very well.” I am not sure if he was referring to his obnoxious anti-whispers {yes plural because he wouldn’t let up} of “Mommy, I don’t want to be quiet anymore” or if he was referring to his defiant wandering away from the pew into the aisle. Either way – he ended up in the cry room and he knew that wasn’t good. And when all was said and done he was more excited to go to his friend’s house to play.

Before we left, he did surprisingly ask me, “Mommy, when will we come back here?”
I answered, “Maybe next week, is that okay?”
He said, “Yes, I will be good next time.” {This is some great three-year old manipulation here, folks, and I can’t lie when I tell you I fall for it every time!}

But really, Sal should have prayed a little harder for his sins at church.

As we sat around our friend’s kitchen island gloating on how wonderful it felt to go to church and starting to indulge in our drinks and appetizers the boys watched Harry Potter in the other room. Shortly into the movie, Sal came running in and climbed up into my lap. He was very adamant about his success in “getting the bad guy.” He must have repeated that phrase {“I got the bad guy”} several times while holding a toy hammer before my stomach {all of a sudden} sunk into my shoes.

I quickly put him down, might have possibly threw him down, and ran into the room where our sweet, charming boys were hanging out. I found a 48 inch flat screen Samsung TV with a black picture. What was left of any video was a few white vertical lines and several white circles in the bottom right hand corner where the toy hammer struck. Over and over and over…

He got the bad guy, alright.

Thank God for wonderful friends. Through the embarrassment and awkwardness of it all, my lovely friend reminded me of the underlying tone of our night and said, “Stop worrying about it! Those are material things! Let’s enjoy each other right now and figure that out tomorrow” as she filled my wine glass.

And this is why I cannot wait for the next Church + Dinner with them. But not going to lie, they better hide their TV next time dinner is at their house. {wink, wink}

Many Blessings and Cheers, Jax