my cheerleading routine

go ahead and laugh.  it's okay.  i can handle it.  is it the red and white saddle shoes or the poorly permed hair? either way, it is most definitely circa 1983! that's my 8th grade cheerleading photo.  pretty cool, huh?  a few days ago a friend from grade school, michelle, posted this picture on facebook, and, of course, it lead to a long thread of jabs... comments ...laughs...memories.

one of the fun things about facebook is getting to re-connect with people and places from the past. i imagine that could also be a not-so-fun-thing, as well.  depends on your past, i suppose.  not that my past was by any means perfect, but i do really get a kick out of the little connections.  maybe you have to be well into your middle age to really get this (or to be heard using the phrase "get a kick out of.") but seriously, i can't believe that i can be a wife, a mother and 43 years old, but still know a tiny bit about people from grade school, high school, college and beyond.  prior to the social media craze, there was just no way that could be possible. we'd show up at our high school or college reunions and marvel at the changes (or lack of changes) we'd encounter.  but now, thanks to things like facebook, we can have a regular dose of these little newsy nuggets.

and, i have to tell you, occasionally, it is fun in the middle of my now, to see something like this pop up.  in the middle of making dinner and dentist appointments and grocery store runs, it is amusing to stop and look at a picture from the past. and remember. to remember that i was 14 once.  to remember that i once wore red and white saddle shoes and cheered passionately for the st. john jets boys' basketball team.

back in 8th grade, i had acne and boy problems and way too much homework.  and of course,  i remember having never enough time,  but that's good to remember too, isn't it?  especially as a mother.  with two high schoolers and one in junior high, it is important for me to remember what it felt like to be that age.  to be that young.  to be figuring it all out.  i mean, let's be honest here,  i am still (clearly) figuring it all out...and unfortunately, i am also [somehow] still battling some acne and not enough time, but the truth is, it is easy to forget what it felt like to be 14. somehow 30 years happened between then and now.  i turned away briefly, and three decades were gone.  we move on from the various chapters of life and often when we do take the time to glance back to the past, our vision becomes blurry and we see only the blaze of glory.  the bright spots. the sunny days. when, if we would take a good look and really stop to remember, we'd most likely recall that not everything was perfect.  for some reason, my kids think my school years were golden.  i don't know where they got that idea, but they have said more than a few times, "mom, it was easy for you.  mom, you did everything well.  mom, you didn't struggle."   really? they know that. they remember, huh? really?  what a terrible disservice i have done them if this fallacy is what they truly believe.  they need to know that their mom faced struggles, challenges, disappointments and yes, even failure.  no one escapes the school years unscathed. no one. not one. not even a cheerleader.

"but mom, you were a cheerleader," they argue.  as if that explains something.  like a girl who can clap on beat and hold two pom-poms in her hands has the perfect life.  wrong.  wrong. wrong.  but funny how we think.  funny the assumptions we make.  funny and dangerous, that is.  so though we have to be careful when we glance back to our past, it still can be a treat to do so.  it is fun to look back and remember the big game or the great laughs. it is wonderful to remember how i had to tear into the locker room to change from basketball player to cheerleader when the girls and boys had games on the same night.  those are great memories.  but what struck me most when i saw this picture earlier this week, was not about remembering the cheerleader i was then, but considering the cheerleader i am now. right now.

that said, before i write even one word further, let me be crystal clear: i wouldn't be caught dead in that red and white get up today (can you hear the audible sigh?  that would be the sound of my kids' relief), but, regardless of costume or uniform, i am needed so much more today as a cheerleader than i ever was in 8th grade.  i thought i was important then playing on the basketball team and getting to cheer lead too, but that is nothing in comparison to my role as wife and mother.  i get to be a lot of things in this role, but one of the most important parts to my job is to cheer for my husband and my kids.  they need me rooting for them.  they need me on the sidelines doing cartwheels and flips and calling out words of encouragement.  and i'm not talking about just when emily is in the middle of a big volleyball match or tyler is on the soccer field scoring another goal.  i am talking about the every day...the daily grind...the little ins and outs of life.  i am talking about being there for my kids in the midst of nothing special, in the middle of the routine. having a word of praise, giving a hug, ruffling some hair, patting a shoulder, making a sandwich, listening to a long story...that kind of thing.

i've saved my saddle shoes and that letter "J" from the front of my cheerleading outfit.  i have the photos and programs and mementos all stashed away and fading in a box marked jody's 8th grade stuff.  it's old stuff.  really old.  and i have no desire to go back, but i have to be thankful for the opportunity to remember and the opportunity to consider the job of cheerleader.  what we do is important.  it was important then.  it is important now.  we don't know what God will choose to use in our lives as we are shaped and transformed.  we can't know.  but we do know He uses much of it. most of it. probably, all of it.  often i believe it is a matter of what we are open to.  will we be open to the seeing...to the memory...to the lesson...to the learning. i tell my kids that all the time. "God will use this."  i don't know why you have to sit the bench or struggle in that class or lose your phone or forget your homework or stub your toe or have your heart broken...but God will use this. yes, even this. 

i can only speak from experience.  and i am certain some of the, both struggling and successful, roads He led me down then, have helped shape me into who i am now. and that sometimes painful shaping only continues! [thank heavens!} that's what i want my kids to know. not just that their mom could do a cartwheel, but that what happened in 8th grade has an impact on now. and what is happening now, has an impact on tomorrow. there's a take away to be found when we are willing to remember. willing to look. willing to learn. 

last night, i had the chance to watch emily's varsity volleyball team compete in a heated match with a school they had never before beaten.  it was a david and goliath match.  emily's small christian school against a local, large public school.  the girls took the match to five games and after two hours of play, they won.  oh my -- talk about cheering.  i am hoarse today from all the yelling and shouting. it was an amazing evening watching emily and her team play to such a big victory.  that's the fun part of cheering, isn't it?  the victory. the wonderful winning. we all love that experience and find it easy to cheer them on.  cheer them loudly when they are glorious. cheer them exuberantly when they are amazing. brilliant. accomplished. confident.  but, since those 8th grade days of the st. john jets, i have learned that what really counts is cheering my family and friends on when it isn't so glorious.  when it's not so pretty or exciting or hopeful or breathtaking to watch. that's when our cheering really counts. sometimes i have to cheer them on in the middle of something messy or painstaking or even downright boring. i assure you, we have plenty of those moments too.  but cheering is a privilege.  hard or easy, it's an opportunity to encourage.  and, the bottom line is, i signed up for this role when i became a wife and mother. i need to sometimes be reminded of that.

i'm not feeling compelled any longer, to work on my splits or front handspring, but i am certain i needed to see that picture again and remember those saddle shoes and pom-poms from so long ago. i needed to remember what it felt like to be young.  to remember what it felt like to be in want of a few fans.  to remember what it felt like to have someone cheer my name out loud.    

     "encourage each other and build one another up...

just as you are doing."  ~ 1 thessalonians 5:11  

"and let us consider how we may spur (or cheer) 
one another on toward love and good deeds." ~ hebrews 10:24

{connections} and a guest post!

"therefore, encourage one another . . ." 
 ~ 1 thessalonians 5:11

when i began this blog back in the summer of 2009, my intention was to tell bella's adoption story and that was it.  get in. get out. funny how plans can change. funny how even the story can change. after bella's adoption and homecoming, God just continued to provide writing material for me.  that's kind of how i look at these past couple of years. well, at least partially how i view them.  i am pretty sure He intended me to get far more from my recent blessings and struggles than just a few extra blogposts.

but here i am, 3 years later, still writing.  one of my favorite parts to this blog is the mini-ministry it has created for me. it began with advocating adoption.  who couldn't look at that sweet little face of bella and not feel some kind of tug to adopt? i think it is is pretty safe to say, she could be a poster child for ending the world's orphan crisis. and that has been pure pleasure to write about and encourage others in.  but the story continued with other chapters.  when i began my journey with cancer last year, the writing really began to pour forth, and this time it took on a whole other layer.  with this new twist in the story, i started receiving emails, inboxes and messages from others who were also going through the tough, ugly pieces of life.  i was amazed at the outpouring of words and love,  especially from so many i had never even met.  and these connections have continued to come with our move to minnesota and with crazy life just in general.  

it was about a year ago when i met with one of the pastors at our church back in atlanta.  i was getting all kinds of encouragement about "doing something more" with my writing.  while that encouragement was well, encouraging, it also left me a little bit frustrated.  WHAT was i supposed to do?  so i set up an appointment with a pastor who had some experience in this area and we chatted about this grand, ambiguous WHAT.  we talked about different directions ...different options...different opportunities.  but at the end of our time together he said to me, "jody, what if all God calls you to is writing in your blog and reaching out to other women?  what if all God wants from your writing is for your words to encourage a hurting woman up in ...let's say... wisconsin?  what if that's all this ever comes to?  is that enough for you?"  i left his office and played that conversation over and over in my head.  i had never really thought about it like that.  but the more i did, the more certain i became, that i was okay with that.  i really was okay connecting with just one woman at  time.  if that's what God wanted.  now, if He'd like to make me a famous author, i'd probably be okay with that too... (just sayin).

but truly this blog has been such a blessing to me as it allows new connections with women from all over.  we've shared stories, encouragement, prayers, hopes and dreams.  i love this.  i love the letters and notes and, of course, the new friends.  i love that so many out there desire to be raw and real -- to be honest.  i have written with women who have lost husbands through infidelity or death.  i have heard from countless women who have lost their health or their hope.  i have received emails from women who have been gravely disappointed in their dreams and sadly discouraged in their days.  women who have encountered major life crises and minor daily chaos.  one dear gal (from minnesota, not wisconsin, but really close) and i connected through my blog several months ago, and now that i am here in her home state, we are friends in "real life."  this fellow mother of five has a son who went to live with Jesus this past spring. her oldest boy. how do we in our earthly way, ever understand that kind of loss, that kind of pain? it has been my privilege to first write with her and now walk with her.  in the months before moving, we wrote weekly, daily sometimes...now i see her at volleyball games, in carpool line and around the hallways of our kids' schools.  occasionally, we even carve out some time, face to face.  just yesterday we sat for a small hour and chatted in the afternoon sunshine.  i hate what she's been through and is going through, i wish i could remove it far from her. in all of our writing back and forth, i have realized, more deeply than ever before,  there are only so many words.  but i love her and i give thanks for her friendship and for how our God began to weave that together before i ever set foot in minnesota.

through this blog, i have connected with friends from childhood, high school and college. this chance to catch up, has been far better than any awkward class reunion.  one of my favorite things is hearing from old students.  these are kids i taught in high school english over 15 years ago back in ohio, and some of them stop in now and read my blog.  i couldn't get a few of them to read their novels and poems and plays back in english class, but they read and check in with me here.  how cool is that?  and, often, i am not just hearing quick hellos, but hearing stories -- journeys.  hearing about the twists and turns of their grown up lives.   recently i had one former student write me a beautiful note of encouragement.  i was her sophomore english teacher 15 years ago, now she was teaching me.  ah, this age of technology... so much is possible. even wonderful. 

but here's the deal, none of us have to look very far to find someone in the midst of serious struggle.  someone in pain.  i don't always do a good job in the arena of compassion and mercy. (my kids might tell you that).  i just don't. i'm utterly selfish at heart. sometimes i choose to check out, instead of dive deep into someone's need.  but even through this little blog, i have learned, am learning, how important we are to each other.  how much we need one another.  men, i may seem to be writing mostly to women here, but you are not, in any way, exempt.  we are created to care for one another...to respond to one another...to come alongside each other.   i had no idea God would use my piddly little writings to encourage others and to encourage ME in this way. but He has. 

"first, i thank my God through Jesus Christ for all of you, 

because your faith is proclaimed in all the world."  ~ romans 1:8

recently, i got to "meet" another gal with a story.  (by the way, we all have them).  but my new friend, heather, has a particularly inspiring story which i am including today.   heather also was handed something hard -- as the new mother of a beautiful baby girl, it was the last thing she expected.  but, as i continue to proclaim, we serve a God who wastes nothing.  what is horrible and ugly, can be used for good and for His glory.  and this is why we write.  why we share. and mostly, why we have hope.

i am ending today with a guest post from heather.  she writes to raise awareness, to inspire others and to share the good...

Appreciation Learned Through My Battle with Mesothelioma

Some dates stand out better than others but for different reasons.  August 4, 2005, was one of my best days ever while November 21, 2005, was one of the worst.  Just a few short months apart, both impacted me as I faced one of the biggest challenges of my life.  Both gave me a reason to fight for my life.  

I received a grim diagnosis on November 21, 2005.  Malignant pleural mesothelioma was a serious diagnosis, indeed.  Without treatment, my life expectancy was about 15 months.  I had been exposed to asbestos in my childhood.  30 years later, it resulted in a cancer that threatened my future and that of my daughter.

Lily was born August 4, 2005.  She was beautiful and lively.  I wasn’t so lively in the months after her birth, but I figured it was the blues.  This was normal for new mothers, but when I just kept feeling more fatigued and even breathless, I scheduled a physical to make sure.  The diagnosis stunned me.  The need to fight was obvious.  I couldn’t fathom allowing Lily to grow up without a mother, and my husband and I were determined to fight hard.  Our support system began to draw near in anticipation of the battle.

My husband’s parents, along with my own, became a staunch support system for us.  Additionally, friends and extended family made themselves available to assist.  Lily went to stay with my parents while my husband and I departed for Boston for a February 2 surgery date.  One of the best mesothelioma doctors available was on my team, and the extrapleural pneumonectomy was successful.  18 days of hospitalization were followed by a two month recovery period before I moved into the chemotherapy and radiation stage of my mesothelioma treatment.  I developed a support system in the hospital while my parents’ support system in my childhood home of South Dakota also grew.  

In my teenage years, I babysat quite a bit.  Now, those I once babysat were filling in by watching Lily when my parents had to be at work.  When people say that it takes a whole village to raise a child I think about my village coming to my assistance during my time of need.  My family has grown closer, and I am thankful for the positive things that have come of this challenge.  

Today, I am cancer free.  I spend my days enjoying my daughter’s developments, appreciative that she doesn't have to rely on photos.  I don’t take things for granted, and I encourage everyone to live life to the fullest.  Things can change drastically in just a matter of moments.  My diagnosis wasn’t the end, but it was a call to action and appreciation.  Words cannot express my appreciation to those who have helped me through this time.

what if - a note for those who have encouraged...

"write a book," you've said.  "get published," you've urged.  "you can do it!" you've cheered.

"not now," i've replied.  too busy.too hard.too fearful.too much.

but in the back of my head...in the corners of my heart...i have wondered too.  what if. 

what if i just begin to send things off and see what happens.  

folding t-shirts and braiding hair and sweeping dirt...i've wondered.

what if.

it won't hurt to try - or so they say. but i know trying is not without some pain.

vulnerable.

i don't have to tell a soul.  but i will.  because i am like that and can't help myself.

but still...maybe. 

just maybe someone will read something i write.

i never intended it so.  not at first.

i've written almost since i could walk.  always for myself.  

but lately God has given me stories to tell.  

a journey.  a road.  a mountain. some hardship. much joy.

"share."  He says.  and i do.  
always wondering if it is too much.  i cross lines and ignore boundaries and step hard on toes.  

but maybe.

just maybe.

maybe.

and so i thought of this wonderful website i have been linked with for about a year now.  (in)courage.me  a division of hallmark-dayspring.  it is a website for women; our issues, our triumphs, our tests.  it features several leading writers and speakers regularly. women i admire.  women i read.   there seems always to be something good - some kind of treasure or tidbit.  

a few weeks ago, i looked up their submission policy, and before i could think twice, i submitted something small.  

how surprised i was to open my email a week later and see their response. "we'd like to use your piece on our site." a guest writer.  well, okay then.  that's good.  i guess this is my first "yes."  i am not sure about future yesses...but i will celebrate this one.  because life is like that...one yes at a time.  one no at a time.  one moment at a time.

tomorrow it will be published.   i will post a link  to the site.  it is small.  tiny.  just a scared toe testing murky waters.  
but maybe...