I told her this is the one time I give you full permission to feel like absolute crap on purpose for something that ultimately doesn’t matter. We were all on the bleachers at the sectional track meet, mapping out our cheering stations. I’d be right past the goal post on the first 100M curve. Dad would be down at the 200M mark, Grandma at 300M, and the four yelling brothers plus a camp son spread out along the final straightaway.

I had taken a xanax about 20 minutes before the race, which did nothing to stop my pounding heart as the runners got started. I’d been sitting at my station trying to be calm. She was in the slower of the two heats, and the competition had already been looked up online. Several of the girls she’d be running with had 800M times in the mid to low 2:50’s. Her personal record was 3:00 flat, and her only goal for the meet was to break it.

She ran her 800 in 2:51.89, won the heat, and got 6th overall out of 17 runners. We were all so incredibly proud and happy for her. I returned to my normal current mom self where I remind the kids to listen to their bodies, that they have nothing to prove to anyone, that these races aren’t worth overextending or injuring yourself. It’s hard for me to watch my kids run, but we had fun. The medicine helped with the rest of the night.

I’ve been craving some time to sit down and deeply write. Since my visit up to my parents house, plans have changed regarding where my grandma will be living. After visiting the house again and thinking through a few more things, my parents didn’t think the house they were moving to would be a good fit for my grandma to live in. Between my aunts and parents, in one of those difficult and potentially triggering and stressful conversations, the decision was made for her to move back to Florida with my aunt and my uncle.

There was a reason I didn’t have too many feelings about any of this before. That reason is because I know how plans often turn into different ones. I also know God though, and the ways he watches over and cares for his people. None of this is a surprise to him. My aunt seemed at peace when she talked about it, which helped me feel at peace as well. I don’t know if saying everything happens for a reason is some kind of protective coping mechanism or what, but it does seem to help in various times when we don’t understand, as we look to him taking each day as it comes.

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