Races and Candy

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When we were little it was a tradition for our family to run the Bolder Boulder in Colorado together as a family. The first year we kids ran it our parents told us if we ran the whole way without walking we’d each get ten dollars. TEN DOLLARS??? I remember thinking “Wow, I can’t believe my parents would give me THAT MUCH,” because that was about a million dollars back then haha. Of course my older brother and sister and I all did it. Easily because we each got to bring a pack of candy in our fanny packs (yes I remember having one of those and I thought it was cool). I remember eating my whole bag of runts by the end of the race. Wow, oh for the days where you can run six miles just like that, eating candy the whole way! 

It’s times like these…

It’s times like these that a blog would be really really nice. I read other people’s blogs and sometimes I get jealous over their lives where everything seems to be going well and they wake up every morning on the very right side of the bed with the day perfectly planned out and a smile on their face. And then I look at my life and think that things go wrong sometimes and sometimes I wake up on the very very wrong side of the bed and I have to tell myself things like “God’s mercies are new every morning” (or more often than not my sweet husband reminds me of that). But then I think that if I just wrote about normal things that happen every day it would be just as interesting as anybody else’s days. Because I mean we all are just plain normal and Jesus died for us and He gives us normal days, whether they be of the normal-normal kind or the rare-exciting-normal kind. Some writing that’s on my older sister’s wall, which has gotten stuck in every chink of every part of my being, says:

Comparison is the Thief of Joy

So I really want a blog so that I can write and have fun writing about tiny tiny things that happen to me in this very normal life that God has given me. But normal as we all find out sooner or later is really the most interesting thing in the world.

Here’s a poem.
“The laundry basket.”
It sits in the corner of our eyes,
Minding its own business not
Even taking up much room
As it bides its time through
Comings and goings,
Spats here and there,
Smiles more often than not,
Waiting.
Till finally finally after
All is said and done we
Drift helplessly over to its
knowing shadow.
And we fold.
Ok, what’s more normal than a laundry basket??!?!?!?!?!