It feels like this past month just zoomed by at warp speed -- so fast that we're afraid you might have missed some of these must-read posts from BlogHer members.
Running a marathon is certainly an accomplishment. I always envision people running a marathon and then collapsing in a heap for the rest of the day. PrayerPoseMom threw that notion aside as she had her own Katie Holmes moment.
Out to dinner after the race, I pulled a "Katie Holmes."
After she ran the NYC marathon in 2007, and went to dinner with Tom, she was photographed wearing heels. She wore high heels after running a marathon!
And so I did too ...
Sandra Carrington-Smith shared with us a very important lesson she learned from her daughter in the post "A little girl, a homeless man, and a slice of cheese pizza."
Clad in colorful overalls and accessorized with rain boots and a fisherman's hat minus the hook, he slowly walked down the sidewalk toward us. He carried two plastic bags filled with his humble belongings, and he stopped occasionally to look up toward the sky, as if in a private conversation with his maker. Only about five or six feet away from us by now, he stopped by a trash can and rummaged through discarded bags. My daughter had her eyes fixed on his hands, and I could imagine little wheels spinning at high speed in her head as she tried to figure out what the man was doing.
One of the jobs of a writer is to edit. We edit and craft our stories, but sometimes it's something we extend to our own lives. Tresha wrote about how she edited her life at age 11.
My own life as story kinda reminds me of what I feel when I embark on a road trip. I've done several across country on my own road trips actually, sometimes with a map, other times gladly without one. All the while, one of the greatest lessons is learning to expect and then trust that moment to moment nudge of what's the right step to take. If we look at our lives as story, then at any moment, if we sense that something is going on we're not jiving with, we can listen for how to edit it and do so, sometimes more readily than others.
Did you know that April was Sexual Assault Awareness Month? I didn't, at least until I read Sierra Black's post about why it's always Sexual Assault Awareness Month in her head.
I think about surviving my rape every day. It's like static running through every experience. You get used to it after a while, but it never goes away.
Lately the background noise is a lot louder. It's like the film of my life has been double-exposed, and in one frame I'm seeing today, here, now, the budding garden and my glorious girls and in the next ... you don't want to know what's in the next frame. I do not want to know, but I somehow suddenly can't look away.
I think many of us can sympathize with Kristen Howerton in her post "Social Networking: sucking time, saving lives, and the gray in between", when she talks about the desire that sometimes comes to unplug completely. I can sympathize with her love-hate relationship with social media. Kristen was in Haiti, visiting a child she hoped would become her son, when the earthquake struck this past January. It was at the time she really learned the value that her social networking community provides.
And then I logged into facebook.
I thought I would quickly update my status. What I saw brought me to tears. All of my friends were posting messages for me -- my wall was full of people asking about me, offering to help, and posting their prayer support. In those days of disconnect from my family and friends, facebook became a way to instantly feel connected again. It also became a communication tool.
Sometimes life throws things in our path that we're not expecting. When we step up to the plate in those circumstances and pledge to do whatever it takes we rarely know what that means. In her post "Lavender," Alexa May remembers doing whatever it takes means doing the little things, too.
I have had a rough couple weeks and couldn't figure out why. What was I doing wrong? I knew it was me. I feel out of sorts. I feel like I am not matching up to the person I want to be. And I realized on the drive to church that my perspective, little by little, has been thrown off. I remembered the long months in the hospital and the phrase I would say over and over to all the Doctors and nurses who told me constantly, "It's going to be a very long road. It's going to be very hard." I would always respond, "I will do whatever it takes."
Did we miss an April post from BlogHer.com that you really enjoyed? Add a link to it in the comments!
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