Author: Katie Huey

When Friends Take You Grocery Shopping

Life has brought me into a new season. A five letter word. A season of grief.

Previously, I have experienced loss in several capacities. I’ve said good-bye to my grandfather, and watched my childhood friend say good-bye to her father when he lost his five year battle with cancer three years ago.

Never have I experienced, however, the crippling shock that results from loss on a deeply personal level. When I received the call that my dad had passed unexpectedly, the first thing that came into my mind was the song lyric from Baz Luhrmann’s “Everybody’s Free to Wear Sunscreen.” Well, maybe not the first thing. But these words were certainly rolling around in the mess of thoughts and emotions that flooded my brain.

Luhrmann says, “Don’t worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind. The kind that blindsides you at 4 p.m. On some idle Tuesday.”

For me, it wasn’t a Tuesday. It was a Friday, and it was 3 pm.

If there is one thing I’ve learned in the last few weeks, talking about death, loss, and grief can make people feel pretty uncertain. I know this is about them, and not about me. However, it doesn’t feel great to watch how your own pain makes others twinge in discomfort, or inspire fear in how they, too, could experience such an event. Grandparents, those we expect to lose. Not your dad, at the age of 58, when he was seemingly healthy the night before.

As the weeks and months move forward without my dad, and I continue to process this change in my life, it is not my intention to make others uncomfortable or to be seeking sympathy.

Rather, I choose to dwell on the fact that stories of shared experience bring me comfort. Over the past few weeks I have had several people share with me that they, too, have lost their parents unexpectedly. Co-workers and high school classmates have shared their hearts and insights as to how they have moved forward to survive without their loved ones. And so I am choosing to share tid-bits of my experience here. Maybe my experience can bring you some comfort or something to relate to in your own journey. I now know that even in the midst of terrible loss, there is beauty to be found.

 

Rewind to two weeks ago. Thursday night. I had planned my meals for the week ahead as my mom and dad sat on my couch. We shared glasses of red wine and caught up on the latest episode of Grey’s Anatomy. Jotting down what I needed to get at the grocery store on Saturday brought comfort and a small sense of accomplishment in getting ahead on regular tasks.

IMG_3667This damn grocery list has sat on my kitchen table for the last two weeks because with a flood of funeral obligations, family time, and throat-aching sobs, I did not find the time to make it to the store.

Plus, the outpouring of support from our family and friends allowed our freezers to be full of casserole, lasagna, and breakfast burritos. Chores as mundane as grocery shopping quickly fell to the back burner.

However, as we marked the two week anniversary, it became pretty apparent that grocery shopping was necessary. Yet, the list continued to sit on the table. It can be challenging to return to routine after such a shock. At times, the thought of every day life just feels like too much.

On Friday evening, I had the blessing of two girlfriends coming down to join me for a meal out. After eating and drinking and discussing our lives, we decided to skip on dessert and make brownies at home. We had to stop at the store to get a boxed batch of promised, gooey, deliciousness.

Both of my friends insisted on returning to my house to get my list – the neglected reminder of my last night with my dad. I hesitated and said I could manage by myself, later in the weekend, but they insisted. Pissed, I grabbed my grocery bags and got back in the car, quietly feeling scared of undergoing such a task. My dear, gentle friends followed me around the brightly-lit aisles, put items in my cart, and helped me complete one of my first attempts at returning to normalcy.

Because that’s the thing when you lose a loved one – life continues, trash needs to be taken out, and you return to work, but picking out peanut butter can be a gut wrenching experience. The presence of these two women in a King Soopers on a Friday night was the most beautiful example of ‘showing up’ and letting me be me I have witnessed in my experience with grief.

Thank you to my dear, beautiful friends who have shown up in so many ways over the past few weeks. Thank you for wiping my tears, reminding me of love through candles and journals and phone calls with sobs, for bringing us Easter hams, and sending chocolates from across the world. For the cards, the flowers, the sentiments, and the continued communication of love and support as we move forward. Friends are the most beautiful things.

What are your experiences with grief? How have you moved forward? Do you find sharing your stories is comforting, scary, or even allowed?

 

To Dad

One of the last questions my dad asked me was, “What’s with the Jiff in the cupboard?”

My dad was loyal to his peanut butter. Skippy brand. Super Chunk. No other way.

“Sorry Dad,” I said, “I think it was the cheapest option.”

That is one thing we have in common. Being cheap – or rather, as we prefer to call it, being “bargain hunters.” Dad and I, we love a good deal.

There are a million things to remember and miss about a love one taken too soon. I’m sure this list will grow as I continue to get older and I hope that the space my dad fills in my heart continues to expand, rather than shrink over time. For now, in the tsunami of emotions that come with this perplexing event, here are some of the things I will forever love about Dad.

He has this horrendous hat that he would wear on the weekends. The black fabric was bleached with sweat and salt from mowing lawns, or cleaning house. He refused to get rid of it though, because it was a gift I gave him during my freshman year of college. He wore the baseball cap with the University of Colorado logo often, and would cheer along with my alma mater proudly. In a family of Rams, Dylan and I are going to miss his Buffalo solidarity.

In fact, he refused to get rid of a lot of things. Our Disney VHS collection still exists, my artwork from elementary school, a ticket stub from a Rockies game, toys from his childhood, swim noodles to keep because you just never know when you may need to go for a dip in the lake. I love his appreciation for the little mementos that others discard. These collections have made up his life.

I’m going to miss ordering his tall Pikes Place cup of coffee when making a Starbucks run. Black – no cream, no sugar. I’ll miss making fun of his dance moves, and the way he would text us informative articles from Yahoo.com as he perused the internet each evening. I’ll miss snacking with him as we cooked meals together, filling up on chip crumbs and cheddar cheese before the main entrée ever made it to the table. Cinnamon ice cream and cookies for breakfast will forever be eaten in his honor.

You can’t end a reflection like this with a best, or a favorite, or even a most prominent statement. The things I love about my father continue to blend, and meld together, swirling to create beautiful images of the man God gave to me to be my dad. When asked the question, “Will you love your dad forever?”, I have to answer with his default Minnesotan response, “Oh, you betcha.”

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A Hope for My Middle-Aged Self

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“Spring Break!,” they squeal, in their sorority sister sounding voices. Can you hear the excitement reverberate over the sound waves as thousands of college kids head out to the beach? Spring break is upon us as schools all over the nation take a hiatus for a week in March.

No, I am no longer in college, and technically I no longer ‘qualify’ for Spring Break. However, this past weekend I had the pleasure of venturing out to the beach for a girls weekend with some of my best friends from college. Do you ever read those books about the middle-aged women who have been friends for decades and go on vacation together once a year? The characters always talk about their relationships, careers, and children over pina coladas and brush the sand from their sun-burned skin before going out for a night on the town.

This trip set the foundation for that plot to unfold in my own life. Basically, I want to be that middle-aged woman some day! It takes years to create tradition, and while none of us have children, we  can certainly get started discussing our  relationships, careers, and family in a tropical location.

This weekend, I was blessed with the reminder that true friendship means being beautifully vulnerable with people you trust. There is nothing quite like being honest and open, laughing, and admitting our struggles while sitting on the sand, staring hopefully out at the ocean. I was thrilled to have three days to reconnect, and to trust that these friendships will continue as all of us grow and change.

 

bbqToo, Texas BBQ is a beautiful thing. We don’t have anything that comes as close to the delicious, salty, savory meat that they smoke down South. I have such a respect for Texans. (Shhh, as a Colorado native, I likely shouldn’t admit to such a thing on the internet). One has to admire the amount of pride these people carry in their own hearts for their state. I may not understand all of Texas culture, but I can say, in a very Avatar way,  “I see you.” You have pride for where you come from, what you offer the country, and how you contribute. But please, stay off of our mountains if you plan on skiing in Carhartts.

As a girl who grew up in a landlocked state, I have an awe and appreciation for the ocean. I saw dried-up, little, blue jelly fish all along the shore and squealed with delight. Pelicans and seagulls made me laugh from a distance. Stepping outside of your geographic norm can bring a greater appreciation for the unique beauty that exists all across the nation.

And so we continue, back in our own towns and settle back into our routines of our lives. Snapchat and Instagram continue to keep us connected. I hope, my dear friends, that if you check back with us in sixteen years when middle-age will have approached us we may still be sharing a drink on Spring Break.

Welcome Back

Have I mentioned my love for Whirly Pop popcorn?

Oh my goodness. The simple pleasures. Throw some popcorn kernels in with some oil, and crank, crank, crank the wooden handle. Listen closely as the beautiful, white orbs of deliciousness come to life. Add butter and salt, and you are good to go.

I’m eating a snack at 9:35 pm. And that is a beautiful thing.

On Tuesday last, Dylan and I were invited to participate in a Paint and Sip class. I signed us up because I was craving a night out and thought it would be fun to try something new. As we walked into the brewery where the class was being held (yes, brewery – welcome to Northern Colorado) I felt myself relax into the space. Or maybe that was just the beer included in the price of the experience.

Gazing upon a row of twenty blank canvases, twenty sets of paintbrushes, and twenty palettes of paint made my heart go pitter-patter. So much potential sat waiting to unfold on the table before me. I am a tentative artist who hasn’t played much with art supplies since high school. This class was the ‘welcome back’ to facilitated creativity that I needed.

I spent three hours following an instructor and applying paint to my own canvas. There is a soothing quality to spreading pigment across white, filling a space with colors and swirls. Long handled paint brushes with stained bristles make me feel powerful – there is space to create with such tools. I was astounded to realize that yes, I can conquer shadow and line, and even a bit of color theory without formal training. Well, the color theory came from my husband sitting next to me, but teachers come in various forms don’t they?

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At the end of the class twenty people had created the same concept, but each with their own unique interpretation. None of us were experts, at least I don’t think so, and yet the creativity flowed. This class was a reminder that joy comes in the process, rather than the concept of a finished product. I, myself, am a finisher. I love crossing things off the list, moving to the next task, and feeling like I accomplished many “to-dos” throughout the day. This class though, reminded me to be present with the paint. For when the canvas was finished, it was time to go home.

Playing with paint was a beautiful, fun and freeing experience, but my emotional takeaway carries more weight. Be present in the process, in the swirling mix of colors and shapes that will come together to create a scene. If you keep following the directions, surely beauty of your own variety will transpire too.

 

 

 

Meet Ruby

It’s rare, a day like today. Leap year only comes around every four years. Today’s twenty four hours feel rather special. How are you going to spend the time that will tick, tick, tick away oh-so quickly? You may be at work, or at appointments, or fulfilling obligations, but I hope you can take a step back from the daily grind and think big picture. This month, this year, we’ve been given the gift of just a little bit more extra time. This concept of an extra day is a beautiful thing.

Today, I would like to take this opportunity to make an introduction. Friends, I would like you to meet my little bike. Her name is Ruby.

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Ruby is a cruiser – front and to the left. She is slightly impractical for long rides on dirt paths, but she serves me well as we pedal through neighborhoods and along paved trails. She even has a cup holder for my coffee! While only equipped for one speed, this strong willed character with two wheels has become a welcomed companion to weekend adventures and jaunts that take us out and about.

Ruby has been hanging upside-down in our garage for much too long. The snow and cold weather kept her waiting patiently for brighter days that are on the horizon as February comes to an end. The teaser of spring is tantalizing my senses and Ruby is shaking in her fenders, ready to hit the road once again.

The weather this weekend was absolutely stunning, and I loved being able to be out and about in the sunshine. I enthusiastically took Ruby down from her storage hooks, pumped up her wheels, and took an adventure ride through our new neighborhood. As the sunshine warmed my shoulders, and the fresh air blew my hair in my face, I was reminded of the simple beauty that comes from hopping on a bicycle and taking time to explore.

Also, this weekend was the 88th Academy Awards. For those of you who don’t know – this is one of my favorite nights of the year! This, my friends, is my version of the Super Bowl. I love watching the glitz and glam of the red carpet, and celebrating artistic achievement in the wonderful world of movies that Hollywood creates. For my thoughts on last year’s awards, you can click here.

This year’s ceremony was quite controversial. Conversations about racism and sexism, diversity and inclusion permeated Chris Rock’s monologues and jokes, and I am sure that the Academy made intentional choices in selecting presenters, speeches, and entertainment alike. I do not intend to create a space of controversy or argument here in regards to these complex, multi-faceted issues.

I do, however, think it is fascinating that Hollywood brought these issues to light in front of an audience of millions of people. Thank you to Lady Gaga, too, for her powerful performance of “‘Til It Happens to You”. Her authentic efforts of advocacy in support of survivors of sexual assault are inspiring and much needed in our culture. This clip gave me the chills. We do have so much room to make progress.

Living in the tension and making choices to be kind to one another, to talk through difficult conversations, to create space for healing, and for bike rides. Those are beautiful things.

 

Giant Spit

Some weeks don’t always feel that astounding. There are hundreds of meditations about living in the pause and accepting the breaks, the ordinary and the routine. This week, I didn’t particularly feel all that wonderful as I continue to go through the motions of life, asking questions of myself along the way.

What am I doing to better love myself? How do I cultivate peace? How do I sort through what I am best at, and then recognize the contributions that I want to make in this world?

When I write those statements down, I suppose they are anything but mundane and ordinary. They are big, monstrous questions with evolving solutions that we can only live our way into. I have been dwelling in the murky answers to these thoughts, and did not feel particularly inspired to reflect on beauty.

Then I read this post by my cousin-in-law and remembered that yes, each day, there is something to appreciate.

I’m going to go list format for this week’s beautiful things with one exception. Right now  extensive, tied-together narrative feels too cumbersome to create.

This week, beauty was found in:

  • Homemade Happy Hour – on Sunday my dad put together a beautiful plate of olives and cheese, and crackers with rosemary and hummus. We sat and nibbled off our little white plates while sipping red wine and shared laughter together. I loved how the shiny colors of the dark green and black olives paired well with the soft, yellow hues of the serving platter. Finger foods are delightful, and taking time to enjoy snacks is a beautiful thing.
  • Sunshine – once again, for a day in late February, I was shocked and grateful for the warm weather and cascading rays of sun that made my Saturday enjoyable. I will forever be grateful for Colorado sunshine.
  • Support – from mentors, from friends, from family. Sometimes, all you need is someone to hold your hand and say “Everything is going to be ok.” It is beautiful to bask in an extension of love and support that you can feel radiating throughout your soul when you seek connection.

Also, in an effort to acknowledge imperfection, I want to let you know that the hot tub we ‘inherited’ is causing a rather hilarious predicament. I have shared our adventures with the hot tub before, and the journey continues. Something is off with our water chemistry and as Dylan and I set out to clean the beast this weekend, we were met with an overwhelming display of well, blue foam. This is not how hot tubs are supposed to react. When it looks like a giant spit his toothpaste into your Aqua Spa, you do not want to enter that steaming pit of water.

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We will continue to work on it. Drain the tub, begin again. Add more chemicals and a defoamer agent.  Like all things, progress not perfection. Find something to laugh about and eat an olive – ok?

 

Turn that Tone Upside Down

I have a side job helping write monthly newsletters for a doctor’s office here in town. I love creating content, and deciphering notes and pulling together a multitude of sources into one space that serves as an educational resource for those seeking to improve their health.

A couple of weeks ago, feeling rushed to meet a deadline, I ticked off a quick couple lines of introduction copy for this month’s newsletter and sent it to my colleague. “How is this for an introduction?” I typed in the notes, and waited for her feedback. My tone had been pessimistic – February is a drag – something to get through – too much snow – and every once in awhile – we need a boost.

No sooner had I clicked send did the doctor call me, with kindness and laughter in her voice. “That intro was a drag Katie!” she exclaimed. “Let’s turn that tone upside down.” At first I was a little offended, but as I sat and listened to her vision for her correspondence with clients, my defense softened. The doctor went on to encourage me to encourage others – to find the joy and beauty in this month of February. Her redirection inspired me in remembering that our words are what create our reality – our intentions and tone are powerful. When we choose to share that writing, we have the power to influence other’s moods, attitudes, and perceptions. This conversation changed my month, and it changed my heart.

I’ve sense rewritten the introduction, and while it felt a little cheesy to try to find the positive, the doctor’s words continue to reverberate through my mind. We can find beauty and optimism when we go looking for it, and maybe, even more powerfully, when we create it.

IMG_3470This week I attempted to create beauty in several situations. Call it simple, but for Valentine’s Day I made my very own cheese danish pastry. While the holiday was on a Sunday, and we chose not to over indulge in any romantic dates, I did want to create a little festivity in my own house. I rolled out of bed, and followed this recipe to bring a little bit of celebration to our lazy Sunday morning routine. Routine? Does sleeping ’til 10 am count as a routine?

Cream cheese and sugar, vanilla and raspberries – when these ingredients blend together they create beautiful flavors and a sense of fancy that just made me smile.

Sunday also presented us with the choice to run errands, and use up gift cards lingering in our junk drawers  from Christmas. I went to Nordstrom Rack and got a pair of pants for nine dollars. NINE DOLLARS. I love a beautiful bargain. I tried Maintenance Moment at my favorite brewery – which perfectly pairs the light flavors of coffee with beer. Their full description is so much more delightful. Hello Colorado! You’ve achieved a combination of my favorite things. Is it bad to proclaim craft beer as one of your favorite things on the internet? Not sure, let’s take a beautiful risk.

So this week I give a nod to the universe as several loved ones have lifted my chin, and reminded me to look for the beautiful with optimism and hope in my heart. May you find and create beauty at every turn, even if it involves a roll of crescent dough.

 

Noise

I have always identified as an introvert. Give me a glass of wine and a movie on most Friday nights and I am incredibly content. I am sensitive to other people’s struggles, and at times, prefer to just avoid humanity. Quiet please.

That is where my soul restores.

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As a more ‘sensitive’ individual, I flock to the people who like to give noise a bad rep. We say that our world is full of noise – conflicting messages, messy business, soul-sucking meh that makes the important things blur away. This week, however, I’ve been thinking about the beauty and benefits of the mixture of sounds that create feelings of importance.

Loud voices in my head keep reminding me that I am alive in my new challenges. The cacophony of the rumbling thought waves need to be reminded to turn the confidence up. I yell at my inner-critics to shut up.

This weekend we tromped through massive drifts of white powder on another snow shoeing adventure. The noise of the wind whipping through the massive pine trees brought grounding and connection to forces bigger than myself. The loud, whistling branches sprayed stinging snow against my face suggesting that their noise may be less than gentle. If we take the time to observe all of the forces creating our surroundings, noise can be reassuring. As trees grow, bend, and sway, even nature groans messages inviting us to participate in the process of being alive.

And tonight, as I sit here and wait for the countdown to kick off for Super Bowl 50, I am tickled by the noise created when family gathers together around chicken wings, and beer, and pride in a football team. The yelling has yet to commence, but I know that my father-in-law is going to start pacing here pretty soon. Noises of excitement, of solidarity, of celebration for the kind of energy connection that only American sports can provide.

Perhaps it is trite to compare the decibel created in forests to those created by hundreds of thousands of Americans at a football game. For someone who takes comfort in quiet situations, I ask this week, what is the benefit of noise? The blending of crashes, voices, sizzling of preparing food, conversations to be had, or the gentle roll of a tear down our cheeks. Noise, this week, makes me feel beautiful.

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In her series “Sound Form Wave,” Ukrainian designer Anna Marinenko draws a fresh comparison between visualized sound waves and jaggedly oscillating patterns in our natural environments.

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Affirmations. Positive associations to words and activities that you want to bring into your life. You’ve seen the memes, and the quotes mashed over beautiful images that float through our home pages, Pinterest boards, and streaming Twitter feeds.

The thing is, in this time of growth, I am choosing to surround myself with these beautiful images that make my heart swell and remind me to breathe.

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This one, posted on the Facebook Page, Raising Ecstasy, seemed delightful to me this week as I choose to venture among new waves. And waves there have been as I juggle new responsibilities, and realize that with these new responsibilities comes new schedules and routines, and the letting go of what once was.

I know, I know, I’ve been using this space as an outlet for my process – thank you for those are still choosing to join me in my journey in career exploration. Some of you may want me to sugar coat the process of my job transition and neglect to share the true colors of the overwhelming swells of new. I feel to do so would be unfair to the process. Swells also have moments where the waves are calm, and I rest here.

I hope that for all of you readers who are embarking on your dreams, you can remember that the switch to pursuit of a dream come true isn’t fantastically easy over night. Or over, well, a few weeks. It takes time, and self-love and the ability to work a few extra hours in the hopes that the next morning may be a little bit easier to handle.  I stand on my ship and breathe in bravery – leaning over, and leaning in, one day at a time.

 

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This past week I dabbled between overwhelmed and incredibly amazed at the beautiful potential unfolding before me. When Friday rolled around, I was ready for dinner with friends.  As six sets of hands picked at a massive pan of nachos resting on my kitchen table, I smiled a sigh of satisfied relief. I do have people that choose to invest in me – even if they live far away and we don’t hang out every week.

I also feel I conquered a major choice in our home ownership. When we moved in, our lower den was painted a shockingly bright, lemon yellow. Paired with an accent wall of sky blue, the colors didn’t exactly scream, “Come sit and relax.” When you put our dark blue couch and red lounge chair in the mix, the achieved rainbow effect was shocking to say the least. This weekend, with Dylan’s tasteful guidance, we transformed our den with coats of soothing gray and an accent wall to boot. Even though the paint was named, “Squirrel Tail” (eww, who wants squirrel on their wall?) I do find the achieved effect to be much more desirable. Ahh, I may be able to rest and breathe in this space too.

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If you want to reflect on imperfection, though, as the purpose of this blog suggests, I have to laugh that the lower portion of the walls perimeter remain in their shockingly bright, original hues. We have plans for wainscoting, but have to wait until next month to budget accordingly. Our banisters remain down, and the ladder sits poised in our living room, anxiously waiting the second coat of cutting in.

One step forward. Pause. Two steps forward. Pause.

This too, shall pass.

This transition, this covering of old, this beautiful evolution of a house into our home, shall become a reality.

What other affirmations do you find to be useful in times of self-doubt? How about when things feel under control, manageable, delightful and enjoyable? Do you whisper small statements of truth to bring you good and beautiful things?

 

Crunchy Snow Steps

The days are long, but the weeks are short. That’s how the saying goes, right? The months are short too. Someone requested a coffee date recently, and as I looked at my calendar, I realized I would need to schedule out into February. FEBRUARY! January is flying by.

I have a January birthday, and I think it is one of the most sustaining things that helps me survive this month. Once that birthday passes though, I desire to whiz right by and move into late March. Please bring me those 55 degree days with blue skies and t-shirts. I tried to eat my lunch outside earlier this afternoon, and I froze. The sun may be out, but yes, it is still January. I am thankful that I am not drowning in snow right now like those on the East coast.

Oh wait, for those living in Colorado, we DID get one of those 55 degree days on Saturday. It was delightful. I wore patterned pants and a black t-shirt to my favorite brewery in Northern Colorado. I invited friends from many stages of life to come together and share a brew, laugh and soak up the rays as I celebrated another trip around the sun. This mismatched group of people who came to celebrate with me bring so much beauty to my life.

On Friday I got to eat at a new restaurant with my family- the foodie in me was delighted by the charming presentation that The Farmhouse at Jessup Farms delivers. This restaurant literally has a nook under the stairs that you are encouraged to sit at while you wait for your table. Cozy throw blankets and pillows are paired with wooden benches and beautifully lit brick walls that made me feel as if I was eating out of an extravagantly comfortable living room. Well done to the team that has created such an inviting and inspirational place to eat and experience community. I loved reminiscing about my year that just passed. This restaurant truly is a beautiful place.

Hard to believe last Monday was a holiday as well. I had the day off from work, and invited my mom to join me on an adventure up to the mountains. She had never been snowshoeing, and I am discovering this is one of my new favorite pass times. As we entered into Rocky Mountain National Park I started to doubt our excursion. Wind! So much wind was blowing snow across the winding roads. When I parked the car at the trailhead I was worried we may blow away – strong gusts threatened to trap me as my car door slammed shut with force. I may be a Colorado native, but I have a propensity to chicken out when weather sucks, or in this case blows. I bow out with the excuse of, “Hey, I can always go next weekend.” The chances of the weather improving in the next seven days are high.

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We got out of the car, and I shared a knowing glance with my mom from behind the trunk of my SUV. We weren’t going to give up after making the trek out there, not this time. We strapped on our snow shoes, buttoned up our coats, and started stomping our way through the beautifully crunchy snow.  I forget how absolutely refreshing it can be to be outdoors. These monstrous mountains are literally in my backyard, and I take them for granted as they blend into the scenery of my life.

We took step after step, sometimes losing our balance, other times laughing as we slid down small drifts, and made our way across the frozen mountain lake. I stood five steps ahead of my mom,  threw my face to the sky, and whispered a breath of thanks to the giver in the universe. Thanks that I get to live here, that I have the means to walk, thanks that I can spend time with my mom, to celebrate, and to most of all, keep taking steps.

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I’ve been mentally challenged this month, to give myself grace, compassion, patience, and love as I take steps while acclimating to my new job. For those of you who have been following along in January, you know I’ve been writing about my fears of isolation, and loss of previous relationship, and the great “what if this doesn’t bring fulfillment” question I give so much anxious energy to. I’m learning in these spaces of mountain air and festivity, that I need to work on me first and to allow all of these emotions to move through. Give myself the space and grace to keep taking steps. Even when you are crunching along, there are processes and people and air, beautiful mountain air, to support you.