Even if you have to switch it up – live your dream!

I’m pigeon-toed.

I looked it up on Google and asked the question: “Do pigeons actually walk with their toes turned in?”

You would think that question would garner a lot of hits. Oddly enough, it didn’t.

What I did discover is that I was supposed to grow out of them when I was a kid. Why I didn’t is a mystery. Maybe God is partial to my birdie toes.

So why is this blog worthy, you may ask?

Well, my pigeon toes have caused my pigeon knees to have major issues. Things that shouldn’t be grinding together are making music as I walk. Tendons that are supposed to be supporting things are rebelling against their God-given duties.

So in my youthful adolescence, I’ve been diagnosed with arthritic knees, and I’ve been told in no uncertain terms that I am not allowed to run long distances.

“But I have a triathlon…”


“But I made a big deal of my goal…”


“But my pride…


“And what about the cool t-shirt?”


Well, poo.

So I’m here to tell you that my triathlon goals have been dashed because my toes like to smooch as I walk.

But don’t worry. For those of you who were going to bring pom-poms to the big race, there’s still hope.

I am not giving up. I’m losing weight and I found other races I can participate in. I can do a swim-bike-swim race or a bike-swim-bike race. In fact I just joined the Endomondo National Bike Challenge. Brian and I are called Team Hope (So if you want to join our team or create your own, come on! It’s a nationwide challenge to ride your bike tons and tons from May 1st to the end of August. Click here to check it out).

Bottom line, sometimes our dreams don’t turn out as we hoped, but that doesn’t mean we need to give up. With a little adjustment here and there, we can still hit the ground running. Or walking. Or cycling.  Or crawling.

Whatever works.

How are your dreams coming? Share them in the comment section and let’s cheer each other on!

Heroine unaware

I don’t know if she realized how beautiful she was. She sat on the stage, hands trembling slightly, eyes down cast. She took a deep breath, looked up and scanned our faces. I wondered what she might be searching for—judgment? Compassion? Someone… anyone… who might get it?

“I was 15-years-old when I got pregnant,” she began. She shared how she’d come from a Christian home, how she never expected that this would happen to her.

She went on to share how difficult it was to tell her parents.

This young woman knew she couldn’t care for her baby, so she began taking steps toward adoption. She sought out a family, she invited them into her pregnancy and then on the day her daughter was born, she set her into the arms of loving, adoptive parents.

She told her story with tears in her eyes. It was no easy choice to give up someone she loved so much. Even now, four years later, tears slipped down her cheeks as she thought of that painful moment of placing her daughter into the arms of another mom.

This lovely young woman still gets to see her daughter through the open adoption. Her smile broadened as she talked of how well her girl is doing, what a joy it is to see her thriving… and how much she loves her still.

There wasn’t a dry eye in the whole place.

I found this young woman achingly beautiful. I wanted to scoop her up in my arms and hold her tight and thank her for all that she did. Such an incredible sacrifice, such profound love to give life to a young couple that would experience it no other way.

Sometimes heroines come in small packages, small packages with humongous hearts.

I stand in tearful awe.