... to date myself

 

It has been a crazy summer. First, went and played Army to become a branch qualified Army Engineer Officer; secondly, Jesus began a work in me that has shook my world upside down. I normally prefer to wander in this world, not inside my own wandering heart, but I’m afraid that Jesus has different plans. This summer it is very clear that I am indeed a new creation in His eyes.

It all starts where I used to seek validation, seeking affirmation through people and their opinions. Nowhere did I involve God and His thoughts about me. How quickly I am to discount Him! Oh how amazing are His thoughts concerning me…

Psalm 139 (NLT) 

¹ O Lord, you have examined my heart
    and know everything about me...
³ You see me when I travel
    and when I rest at home.
    You know everything I do.
⁴ You know what I am going to say
    even before I say it, Lord.
⁵ You go before me and follow me.
    You place your hand of blessing on my head...
⁹ If I ride the wings of the morning,
    if I dwell by the farthest oceans,
¹⁰ even there your hand will guide me,
    and your strength will support me.
¹¹ I could ask the darkness to hide me
    and the light around me to become night—
¹²     but even in darkness I cannot hide from you.
To you the night shines as bright as day.
    Darkness and light are the same to you.

¹³ You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body
    and knit me together in my mother’s womb.
¹⁴ Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex!
    Your workmanship is marvelous—how well I know it...
¹⁶ You saw me before I was born.
    Every day of my life was recorded in your book.
Every moment was laid out
    before a single day had passed.

¹⁷ How precious are your thoughts about me, O God.
    They cannot be numbered!...
²³ Search me, O God, and know my heart;
    test me and know my anxious thoughts.
²⁴ Point out anything in me that offends you,
    and lead me along the path of everlasting life. 

 

There are two themes that keep rising from the cracks in the foundation that I built where Jesus is jack hammering, and is He doing work!

1-      I rely on busyness to keep me preoccupied that I don’t have time to process anything. The notable phrase, “I’ll get to that later once I’m down with [insert busyness tasks here].” But what that actually does is prevent “me time,” and that time is VERY important for everyone. If we refuse to have “me time” then we are performing an injustice to the world. We have too many souls molding to the world; what the world needs are more souls who are thinking less, feeling more, choosing to trust their gut and overcome the fear of the unknown. Don’t be afraid to trust an unknown future with a known God.

 

This, too, I am guilty of. I have let my busyness take over connecting with myself daily, no longer in-touch with who I am. I know what I don’t want to be and that has been my guiding light for so long. But now…now there is this new Light, so bright, that it lures me as if I were a baby sea turtle rising out of the sand trying to make my way to the ocean for the first time. Ocean...that has been a keyword this summer – it rises from the quote, “I crave a love so deep the ocean would be jealous.” Again, the Big Man has made it clear that it is time to rebuild a relationship with myself.  How can someone who is wandering rebuild a bond? Why, that would mean I would have to sit in the mess, actively participating. Insert panic. You mean I have to be present through this entire ordeal?! Crazy talk, right?!   But I am curious how I'll be guided to walk through the rebuilding stages, to sit at His feet, to keenly participate with open ears and a receptive heart. 

 

2-      The mental game; I am my own worst enemy. The enemy has preyed on my old definition of what success means. That definition is warped, boggles me down with comparison, making me anxious for things that are not meant for me. What is meant for me? What is His desire for me?

His desire, I feel, is asking me to step up in life to invite change, an internal adjustment.  This change first starts with justifying who validates me. There is only One who validates me, whose wisdom I need to seek, thirsting for His Light; He is my good Shepherd who never leaves but always guides. Oh how He guides with receptive ears, hearing every beat of my heart, knowing what causes me joy, peace, happiness.

Change is always in the eye of the beholder. Sometimes it’s abrupt; sometimes it’s sluggish and drawn-out. But change is change and it requires a response, a choice. My choice in the invitation from Jesus is simply, “Yes.” I cannot say what it will look like because that would be me falsely changing into a new-being that I molded, making the process purposeless. There is only one Sculptor, who I have taken the carving tool from, and who I am gladly (somewhat hesitantly if I’m honest) giving the carving tool back and saying, “Lord, I have been trying to  occupy too much space at once, looking for short-circuit vacancies, continuing to feed my busyness to avoid You; but here I am, slowly (painfully) loosening my grip on attempting to control outcomes.”

I will be the first one to say that I won’t get all the answers correct in this new adventure with JC.  I do know that it is scary to look inside the dark crevices, naming the inner demons and fears, and truly owning the way I feel and the way I behave.  But the fear, anxiety that rises up, will be eradicated by my Prince of Peace.

Questions I need to ask myself daily:

       What validates me as a person?

       Rebuilding a relationship with the true me looks like what? Will I let her emerge or suppress?

       What makes me happy? Laugh? Smile?

As I continue to invest in my inner relationship, I ask that you do the same. Sit down with yourself daily, if only for a few minutes, and take time to hear you. Ask yourself what you want, what you really, really want. The fact is that you deserve to be happy; no one has the same happiness formula. Take time to find yours and enjoy the process.

Not all who wander are lost.

Much love,

Whit

 

scars = beautiful

Something happened to me last week, a bittersweet “ah-hah” moment.  Spring time calls for cleaning out my closet, something I try to regularly do at least three times a year. This is actually a hard process because I end up going through an emotional roller coaster ride of feeling blessed one second to be able to give away clothes to the next moment of feeling selfish that I can afford new clothes. Makes no sense, right? Seven bags of clothes and five pairs of shoes are dropped off and I still feel like I can give more.  Then the “ah-hah” moment happened that morning when I was donating blood: why can I continually give away clothes, possessions, blood, money… but I find it impossible to give my heart to my Romeo, my Beloved? Let me invite you into my darkness, my brokenness…

What if the things that are broken are actually beautiful? Let me explain.

I recently went on a couch surfing road trip with a sister from another mista. Yes, we coin that phrase. We were in San Diego walking along the pier, enjoying ice cream, street entertainment, taking random pictures, and just watched the sunset. On our walk back to the car we see a homeless man with a dog. We continue walking by and then as we took a couple of steps forward we looked at each other, stopped, silently agreed… we needed to go back. This man was sitting down, leaning against a light pole reading a book; very scrubby looking and had a pit bull by his side (beautiful pit bull!). There was something beautiful about him that I couldn’t look at. With one good right eye, his left eye was blatantly blind and scars traced along his left side of his face, he held a conversation with us talking about random topics. I remember smiling and laughing, not at him, but with him as his tone of voice gave way to his passions in life. There was a question I wanted to ask him but I didn’t know how without it seeming to demoralize him. It’s one of my favorite questions— tell me, what’s your story? I REALLY wanted to know his story, how he got to where he was, what major decisions affected his life… but I couldn’t ask. Why? Simply put—because of my brokenness and shame in myself.

I have a problem with brokenness and I finally figured out why.  The more I searched into it I became more aware that brokenness isn’t black and white. Brokenness is found in the gray area that we all pretend we don’t have. We try so hard to mask our scars that we forget pain is beautiful. You see, we have diligently come up with pre-planned answers to questions so people will think we are “fine” and “everything is okay” on the outside. What if we are not okay? What if our life is a mess? What if we are lost in this world? Pain has programmed us to be robots. Robots need guidelines, a set of rules. Guidelines remove love.  Without love, we cannot live. I’ve been told that one of my strengths in who I am is I offer a “no condemnation zone.” In all honesty, the main reason for this openness to love a complete stranger is I realized sin doesn’t define people; sin allows us to tell each other that something is springing from deep and unmet needs.

It’s ironic, really. God calls us to draw closer, nearer to know His face and not just His works. Yet, it’s our perception of our own darkness, our shame, our “past,” that keeps us stagnant. Stagnation causes us to take shelter in unknown realities that become white-lie-truths to us. This is a false shelter that I am guilty of, tenfold over. My false shelter allows me to seek God but to flee God at the same time; allows me to find it easier to believe that God exists before believing that same God could love me. As I venture into this gray area, I am continually reminded of Brennan  Manning’s words in the Furious Longing of God: for His love is never, never conditioned to our moods—of elation or depression. The furious love of God knows no shadow of alteration or change. It is reliable. And always tender.

Part of the reason why we struggle with relationships with one another is our own inability to know who we are and why we are here. Secretly, don’t we ask ourselves that question-- “What am I doing here? What is my purpose?”  

 

 

If there is one thing I can guarantee you in this world, it’s that this is a jaded world with jagged edges. Be careful what you feed in this world because you are what you feed; you are what you repeatedly do.  I wish I could say that I fell under the white wolf. That is something I want you to see or hear. But if I were to be honest with myself, and if God were to ask me which wolf inside me wins on a daily basis, it would be the black wolf-- hands down. Some battles the white wolf reigns victorious but in the ultimate scheme of things, I fall prey to anger, jealousy, greed, resentment, inferiority, lies and my ego. I hate these feelings so much that I noticed patterns in myself and the topics that cause these feelings to arise that I voluntarily try to avoid situations. I willingly attempt to choose the white wolf because I know what joy, peace, love, hope, humility, kindness and truth feels like. I have tasted both, experienced one more than the other, but I want to choose “Good.”

So starting today, I’m learning to accept that my scars are beautiful. Each and every one, no matter how painful they may have been. This isn’t a sign of weakness but rather a sign of purpose and a wanderlust future. Those scars made me who I am today and I’m finally okay with that. It took a long time but finally—let me repeat, FINALLY—my mentality has switched to being thankful for my bittersweet scars. I am no longer carrying around burdens and it is freeing. Very. Freeing. Indeed.

I’m leaving you with this thought: 

I’m beautiful because I have been broken. I know what defeat looks like. Darkness has been my best friend for so many years that I forgot what light can look like. I’ve been betrayed, heart shattered, only to glue back pieces that I could handle. I’ve felt half-alive for most of my life. But, I’m still beautiful. No matter how much this world tries to dirty me, I will not cave. I may take one step backwards but I will take two steps forward. Because in the end, I will claim victory.

Now it’s your turn—go claim your own victory!

Not all who wander are lost,

Whit

 

... one year ends, another begins

2013 was a rollercoaster year -- there are no regrets or life decisions I would want to change, just a year of lessons learned. As I look back, I am so grateful for every event. Two things that came out of FY 2013: 1- I have amazing friends/family; 2- what didn't kill me only made me stronger.

As 2014 approaches, I have been thinking on who I want to be for this upcoming year. I’m an introvert—our minds never rest. Last year was an amazing year that I got to travel and see some old friends but this upcoming year I don’t want it to be about travel necessarily (who am I kidding, it’s 49% travel).  2014, for me, will be about people. Here are four quotes that’s starting my year off:

 

“Be part of something bigger than yourself.”

I am so excited to be heading back to the Midwest for five months this spring. Yes, I get to go play Army but I’m more excited about being closer to my second families in Iowa, Missouri and Kansas. I’m also pumped about being reconnected in serving Inner City St Louis -- I’m crossing my fingers for weekend time with Franciscan Monks again. I loved that time in St Louis. Who knows, maybe a monastery is where I'll find my answers.

“Instead of judging people by their past, stand by them and help repair their future.”

I’ve been told multiple of times that I should be a psychiatrist with my shovel and questions.  I wear a ring that quotes Phil 4:6-7 (be anxious for nothing) that reminds me that I need to be patient with people's walls/barriers, having ears tuned to the words that are not spoken. Personally, I need to listen more and stop using words “I want” or “this is what I think.” I need to be silent more often, finding that strength of silence, to just be a sound-board for someone. There is no need for a quick reply. Silence is a true friend that never betrays (Confucius).  Asking those genuine questions to help people in their process in whatever they are going through... this is unfiltered grace. I want to have deep walks with people as they go through life where there is no condemnation between two souls. I want people to be healed, breaking chains, tasting freedom from their past and sensing the hope in their future.

"At the end of the day, the only questions I will ask myself are... Did I love enough? Did I laugh enough? Did I make a difference?"

I’m going to focus on the small things. Mother Teresa said, “We can do no great things, only small things with great love.” That goes along with if you can’t feed a hundred people then just feed one. I catch myself often thinking of the BIG things that I want to change in this world that I end up missing the soul I could have bought lunch/dinner that is sitting with no one.  I pray for better vision to see those who believe they are invisible but secretly wish to be seen. Also, laughing every day is a must—this just comes natural.

"Be adventurous. Be around good energy. Connect with people. Learn new things. Grow."

This one is too easy. Travel— done. Good energy— be conscious of those I surround myself with:  do they bring me down or build me up? Grow—this one is the biggie and probably will be the most difficult as this new season approaches to start to internally process multiple subjects that I frankly don't want to begin. It will be WW III. Good thing I’ve watched King Arthur a million times—I know how to win. Haha.

2014 is my 27^th year. Number  2 has the attributes of intuition, duality and finding balance, meditation, sensitivity and selflessness. Number 7 relates to the energies of mysticism, spiritual awareness, persistence of purpose, understanding and introspection, manifestation and inner-wisdom. These two numbers combined—harmony, spiritual insights and unconditional love. I didn’t even look up the meaning of 27 until after I picked my quotes—let the new season begin!  

Just go. Get lost. Be happy.

Not all who wander are lost,

Whit
 

... invincible

Invincible. Superhero’s. This was this month’s theme. Maybe I’m two months behind Halloween or I secretly want to be a superhero  (who doesn’t?). Either way, this epistle ties into my last blog on happiness but with a dash of whimsical commentary and a splash of story time.

It’s the holidays…people are overwhelmingly stressed with monetary concerns, traveling, in-laws and so many to-do lists. I wonder how many people are happy. Happy to be with loved ones. Happy that loved ones are still with them to laugh, fight or cry together. Happy to “just be.” I’m not a huge fan of the holidays (call me Ms. Scrooge, if you will) because the meaning is lost—it’s all about money and gifts around this part of the year. Now, I’m not dawg-ing gifts, Thanksgiving or Christmas. I’m talking about how we act in the art of giving. I would rather give a gift that causes that loved one to spend painful time with me or time with each other as a family. Why? Is that technically giving me a gift? Sure, why not. But here’s my thought—I would rather give a gift that gave another person a chance to get out of the house, possibly some form of activity or event, and make it about TIME and the people you are with. Time, time, time! (No Beetle Juice needed)  People, you can refund an ugly sweater BUT you CAN’T refund time. Why waste it? The truth is that when we all get older we won’t regret not buying a pair of shoes or having a top brand article of clothing. No, we will regret the time we didn’t spend with people, creating memories that we wished we had.

Speaking of time… Story Time.

Not many people know that my brother has saved my life—multiple times. We weren’t the brightest kids growing up in a desert community (LITERALLY a desert) that had regular shootings, random kill that involved a freezer for storage, and plenty of dope to go around the neighborhood. We did have a very small handful of friends to ride dirt bikes with, play tag by ramming bicycles into one another, make dirt ramps, play hockey in the middle of a street, play any sport imaginable/ make up new games, and the list can keep going. It is definitely one of those moments you look back as an adult and think, “Wow, we were really stupid…but it sure was fun!” Trips going fishing/camping/canoeing/boating/hiking down the Snake River is included as fun. Bobby (his name is NOT Booby, just FYI, people have asked) and I would leave the boat and go scrambling up the canyon. Scrambling is rock climbing without any gear. Yes, another bright idea. Let’s go climb up a canyon wall, jump over ledges (mom, I hope you are not reading this), and then once we get to the top, have to find another way down, sliding down boulders, avoiding rattle snacks, and doing the “crab walk” because it’s too steep to stand or feet surf downhill (highly recommend). We would be gone for at least four hours, minimum. On one glorious Withrow adventure (Bobby is around 12 and I’m 10 years old-ish), there was a ledge/ gap that we needed to cross to continue up the canyon wall. Fun fact—this canyon is at least .5 miles looking down.

So… back to the ledge. More than ¾ of the way up, zig-zagging, we come across this ledge/gap. Two choices—go back down OR jump. If you are more than half way, no turning back, right? Jump it is! Bobby goes first. Looks easy, he jumbled just a little on the edge but he didn’t seem bothered. My turn—take a couple steps back and hoped that this white girl could jump. My feet landed on the edge of this gap, I begin to slip down, and my clasp on the wall isn’t holding. I didn’t panic because before I knew it, my brother had my forearm, lying on his belly while I’m struggling to find grip on the ledge with my feet, hands, body, anything. Bobby pulled me up, no words were spoken, we brushed ourselves off, and we continued climbing to the top. I would call that the “Withrow Way”—meaning, you don’t talk about what you need to talk about, you just keep going and avoid the situation. At the top Bobby said, “How about we find an easy way down?” I responded with, “Easy. Easy sounds good today.” Bobby and I choosing the easy way was a sign that both of us realized that that day was indeed a lucky day.

That day I felt invincible. Honestly, I feel that way most days and have since I can remember, always jumping over ledges, climbing up boulders, jumping out of planes, climbing the tallest peaks so I  could see  the world— this is all I’ve ever known, to want to go higher and faster. When I was 2.5 years old I waited for my dad to get home from work to take my training wheels off my bike. You see, my brother didn’t have training wheels and he could ride faster, leaving me behind. Training wheels restricted my freedom. Mom did tell me “no” so I first tried to take the wheels off myself. No luck, so I waited, knowing if I had the tools needed, set right by my bicycle, then dad wouldn’t say no— and it worked. I took off down the street when those training wheels came off, peddling as fast as a vertically challenged kid could. This was just the beginning of feeling like nothing can stop me.  It’s not the smartest feeling, granted, but I would rather have a feeling of freedom than a feeling of imprisonment. Some people may call it an “adrenaline-junky addiction” but I call it a “why-not-mentality.” To each their own.

I feel like we’ve lost the meaning of what happiness is. It is not an object or person. To me, happiness is this unattainable sensation inside that you can feel but can’t see. Kind of like the wind if you are in an open field—you can feel the wind blowing your hair and clothes but you can’t actually see the wind (unless a dust devil comes around).  Why do we constantly look outside of ourselves for happiness? Where did we learn this? Happiness is now. It’s not maybe tomorrow. It’s not maybe when I buy this or travel there or ____________. Happiness is within each one of us, individually. Eleanor Roosevelt is quoted, “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.”  Well, how about no one can take away your happiness without your permission? Trust me, I get that life really, really sucks sometimes. Maybe I need to give my bittersweet past more credit because those events have made me realize how watchful I need to be to cautiously handle my happiness. Maybe I need to realize how blessed I am to have lived in “darkness/emptiness” because now I can see the light when everyone else seems to be misplaced. Maybe, just maybe, I am finally becoming thankful for my scars after so many years. The moment you believe you are stronger than you were told, chains will start to be broken and invincibility will grow. Fall down seven times; get back up eight-- that’s the trick.

There was a moment in college I realized that I had fallen into the cookie cutter Christian “look.” I had a purity ring on my wedding ring finger-- people would look at it, some would ask about it, and it opened up great opportunities to talk to strangers about life and decisions. Then one day I lost my purity ring (insert gasp!). No, that doesn’t mean I have slept my way in bedrooms or been viewed on “girls gone wild.” I wasn’t sad when I couldn’t find my ring but became amazed at how many people correlated the ring with me and asked where it went and why I wasn’t wearing it, hearing their assumptions through their tone of voice. I didn’t understand why there was no care from my end. Did this mean I was done trying to be a “Christian”? Was this me telling God I’m going to become a hell-raiser? No. It made me question my actions—can people tell I have a relationship with Jesus by the way I talk to them, act toward them and spend time with them? Do they feel genuine love from words I speak and questions that I ask? Do they leave our conversations feeling condemned or embraced through grace?  Do they feel loyalty and trust? Do they still feel alone in their walk through life?  Have you ever asked yourself how people feel when they leave you and your words you speak? #RealityCheck. Words are also non-refundable and in most cases, actions are, too.

I’ve concluded that I’m not invincible physically, for my superhero powers have some limits (emphasis on some, haha) … but internally I’m unshakable. It’s a mentality—not cockiness, arrogance or believing you are superior over another. It’s a principle I learned I had years ago when I least expected it—the darkest skies have the brightest stars. Thomas Jefferson said, “In matters of style, swim with the current; in matters of principle, stand like a rock.” So here is a principle: you deserve to be happy. You were not born into this world to be unhappy, walked all over, disrespected or forgotten. You were born with a purpose of love, joy, adventure, peace, laughter AND happiness. Sometimes we lose sight of the goodness in our lives because life gets hard and keeps beating and throwing everything at us, to the point of us thinking we are going to “break,” that we become tired and distracted of what happiness really means. Notice it’s the moment we “think” we might break—ahhh the internal struggle.

I don’t wait to be happy. You shouldn’t either. You deserve to be happy NOW (right meow!). Somewhere along the line of generation to generation, it has been passed on that you can’t be happy until you have __________.  It’s time to break that circle of emptiness.  No more excuses—if you want to be happy, be happy.  I know too many people that are unhappy and just waiting for the right day to come and things will change. The situation you are in will not change without your action. It breaks my heart to see people trapped in their own life. I hear comments like, “You don’t have kids so you can go do this and that,” or “you don’t own a home so you don’t know what a mortgage is.”  Yes, both of those are very true -- I only know the Aunt side of having kids and the renter side of a mortgage-- but it’s not about what you have, it’s the condition of your heart and mind. What I do know—brokenness, being empty and alone; I also know joy, peace, and holy laughter. Again, happiness is not an external issue—it’s your mind set. Last example (I promise), just this past weekend Bobby and I almost got side swiped in Bernie (my Suby)—talking inches here. It was snowy, people make mistakes, and this guy pulls out of a subdivision and forces me to swerve into oncoming two lane traffic (no cars luckily). My response-- we didn’t get hit! YES! Bobby’s response, well… was a little different. Needless to say, our outlooks were very different. I was laughing—he was not.

So how on green Earth does happiness, invincibility and time correlate? I have no idea—that’s your own opinion. To me, it is always now. That is reality. That is truth. Once I realized this truth, there was a shift in my mentality/outlook on life. I can’t name the day/time when this change happened a while back, but I can say that it is very different from what I was used to. The best way I can describe this would be: freedom. Freedom from my past, freedom from planning my future—this freedom allows me to be in love with life.

The take-away from this rant-- just know that you don’t have to plan months in advance for happiness. Happiness is now.

Just go. Get lost. Be happy.

Not all who wander are lost,

Whit

"So I recommend having fun, because there is nothing better for people in this world than to eat, drink, and enjoy life. That way they will experience some happiness along with all the hard work God gives them under the sun."    Ecclesiastes 8:15, NLT

 

Hap-pee-ness

 

Happiness is like peeing your pants—everyone can see it but only you can feel its warmth.

Yes... I went there. Insert Billy Madison scene, “You’re not cool until you pee your pants,” and splash some water around your crotch area.  No, this epistle will not be about how to successfully pee ones pants (PM me if you need pointers) or how to become potty trained (are we really every 100% potty trained? Really? haha). Instead, this will be about happiness. Joy. Confusion. Being lost in this world, which there is nothing wrong with that. I will type crossly about why my favorite quote is, “not all who wander are lost/ or aimless,” and explain what hap-pee-ness means to me.

If there is one thing that frustrates my mom about who I am (there are many more issues), it is that I have a wandering heart. She hates it because it means I can never stay put, in one place, preferably in Idaho. It’s a no bueno situation since all she does is worry but I realized when I went to college, about 1,200 miles away, that I seek a portable home.  I have struggled for a long time with what “home” meant to me. Turns out, for me, “Where thou art, that is home” (Emily Dickinson).

I have found so much joy in being lost. Primary example—Peru. This was an awesome trip I took with one of my best friends, Spenser. He was the perfect fit because he loves adventure, hiking, willing to try new things; basically anything. “Basically anything” became fatal one day for him after saying yes to too much alpaca and guinea pig the night prior in Machu Picchu …but there is a different time to discuss stomachs adjusting to Peruvian food and altitude sickness. Back onto subject—being stranded. It was day three, adjusted to altitude sickness drinking loads of cocoa tea (about 12,500 ft above sea level) and we were on our way up through Sacred Valley to Machu Picchu. The bus dropped us off on a corner, literally, with our bags and gear, and said “adios!” No joke. So we waited for a van from our hotel to pick us up; it was “planned.”  Two hours later, with a white girl and Japanese looking man still standing on the same corner, white girl decides to take it upon her to find a pay phone. Heck, she took two years of high school Spanish, could interpret graffiti on the buildings (words like “diablo”—such a safe neighborhood), everything was under control.

Pay phone found; coins inserted; hotel contacted; hotel notes pickup time two hours ago but says to take a taxi. Sounded smooth, right? Well… it only took about 20 minutes to find a pay phone, another five minutes to figure out the “coin” situation, and then add at least 10 attempts to dial the number. I did make three friends who, after having a good laugh at my obvious struggle, pointed out my issue. You will never know what the issue was but it was a “palm in face situation.” So… phone is ringing-- so thankful this person had good English!  Insert breath of fresh air. They say sorry for missing us at the corner but to take a taxi. Doesn’t sound horrible except its dusk outside and I get to walk back to my travel partner and explain the awesome news. One of the best things about Spenser is that he laughs at everything like I do.

 

Laughter at the corner ends, now we move on foot to find a taxi. Dusk becomes dark as we have our bags walking through this random town of Peru. We continue laughing and joking that we are going to die because both of us are amazing travelers and didn’t have a cell phone or any other way to notify family (not the best “How to travel abroad safely” tip). About a half mile up a hill, stroke of luck, we see a line of taxis. I show the driver the address, he nods, pops open his trunk for our bags, we get in the backseat without hesitation, and the drive begins. Remember how I said Spenser and I were joking about dying? We really thought the driver was taking us out to the middle of nowhere and we were going to vanish off the Earth. Seriously. Why? 15 minutes –ish (it is hard to keep track of time when you are panicking), driving crazy on a dirt road, hitting huge bumps, us catching some major taxi air, and its freaking dark! We can’t see ANYTHING but the stars. Insert panic laughter and awkward dying jokes. “At least this was a fun ride,” my last thought started to trickle in (humor never fails). Next thing I feel is a sudden stop, dirt flying all around (windows didn’t roll up all the way), and the driver honks. HONKS!?! What the hell is going on?!  This is it. THIS. IS. IT. That was surely a gang sign honk that notified someone, somewhere, that they had stupid Americans with him. I’ve watched the movies… I’m white, from a very small town in Idaho, remember?

Weirdly, a little door opens, magnifying this HUGE solid wooden gate, and a stranger hops through. Words were said, the man walks back through the door, now this gate opens. It was a whole new world (start singing Aladdin). Hello five star hotel! Hallelujah!  Fist pump in the air! Spenser and I do what we know best—laughed at the entire situation for the rest of the night, jumped on beds, and laughed more. And get full body stone massages. They practically forced us. So horrible…

So why did I tell you that story? Most of the time in Peru we were lost and it was awesome. There was no itinerary if we didn’t want to do a tour or go for a certain hike or attend an event. We ate what we wanted, went where we felt like going, talked with strangers who tried to sell us cocaine and marijuana, and tried not to give away all our money to the incredible, penetrating, little brown eyes on the streets asking for help. Seven days of unplanned events that made me truly happy.

Not all who wander are lost. I love this saying, very fitting for what my heart desires. There are some days I take a drive to somewhere, not caring how long or what the destination is; but I enjoy what’s around me and, most importantly, what happens. There was one random drive I took that I had the joyous event of a popped tire—I changed the tire on the side of the highway and Charlie Mike-d. That experience made me feel free, invincible, like I couldn’t be stopped as long as I keep putting one foot in front of the other.  In college, a group of us would play the dice game—if the dice rolls on an even number you turn left, if it roles on an odd number you turn right. It’s these little things, the simple moments of who you are lost with, rather than what you are actually doing. There was laughter, overwhelming moments of joy telling insane stories, and playing the infamous “never have I ever” game. It was living life, being real, authentic with one another, letting down little walls. It was quite simply freedom in the purest form.  Not worrying about the next thing in life, or trying to figure out how to fit in the mold that everyone thinks you need to be in, but just living in the current moment. I have never had a dull moment when “lost,” but rather have experienced/seen raw events—some good, some bad, but nothing that has killed me. These events humbly opened up my eyes.

It’s too easy to forget that we are living because we are so focused on the future or hurt by the past, that it leaves us distracted and we overlook that we are indeed ALIVE. You are breathing. You woke up today.  Whatever storms you went through, never forget that it is often the darkest skies that we see the brightest stars and sometimes you just have to let things go. You see, we opt for so much noise/technology to distract us so we don’t have to spend alone time with ourselves, hearing our own thoughts or how we “feel.” Fact is we will never really get over something until we actually spend time dealing with that “something.” I dare you to sit with that event(s) or word(s) spoken to you for longer than 180 seconds. In silence. Or just sit in silence for five minutes, clearing your mind.  We spend so much time guarded that we feel so comfortable drawing lines, working so hard to create our world—but we forget that those same lines that  keep us guarded, feeling safe, also keep us from stepping out and saying “yes!” to an amazing adventure.   

Happiness is not a state to arrive at, but a manner of traveling.  Getting lost is not a waste of time. You have to meet people where they are, and sometimes you have to leave them there. The worst feeling is when someone makes you feel special, then suddenly leaves you hanging and you have to act like you don’t care at all. A person’s actions will tell you everything you need to know. I hope that you climb a mountain so you can see the world, not so the world can see you. It is always our own self that we find at the end of the journey. The sooner we face that self, the better.  Your lessons come from the journey, not the destination. Too often we are so preoccupied with the destination, we forget the journey. Good words to absorb.

 

 As FY 13 comes to an end, I look back and realized that I marked six things off my bucket list.  Joined the military, traveled to Virginia and North Carolina —visited UNC campus, watched a Tar Heels men’s basketball game, couldn’t resist the A Walk to Remember scene (two places at once on the border of VA and NC)— and Veterans weekend at Arlington/Washington, D.C.. Also, visiting old friends in Iowa, having priceless roomie time with my two best friends who understand me (that’s an understatement), and visiting my battles/sisters. Hard to believe this year brought me six flights (four to the east coast… I might be getting the hint?), visiting seven states, and next year alone at this moment I have four weddings to go to (none in Idaho), one multi-country overseas/backpack trek and one multi-state hippie/ couch surfing adventure to start planning. Time to start counting my pennies! And find someone to travel with.

I may be turning 27 in December, single, no dependents, and not a homeowner. That stuff doesn’t bother me…well, maybe getting wrinkles but no SPF can prevent that one. At my sensitive age I would most regret:  not making time for my friends and family; not enjoying nature on hikes, fishing and camping;  letting people in my life forget  that they are special to me; holding grudges and letting my past determine my future; not being me; forgetting how to laugh and poke fun at life’s events; saying no to change/adventure; mixing priorities of life up; forgetting my faith and love of servant hood; becoming too distracted that I forget to have eyes to see and ears to hear; and letting someone’s limitations transfer over and stop me. There is that saying, “live with no regrets,” that so many people quote—kind of like YOLO. My mentality is – I have nothing to lose but everything to gain, so why not try/do everything. When it comes to dreams/goals/bucket list, the common denominator is me. I can be my best friend or worst enemy. I’m just lucky enough to have realized that I need to travel, to engage with strangers, to see/experience the world, have awesome raw awkward moments, and crazy adventures for my soul to have peace, joy, and happiness. I feel fortunate to finally know what makes me happy. I also feel fortunate to have the friends and family that I do, too.

I see my path, but I don’t know where it leads. Not knowing where I’m going is what inspires me to travel it.

JUST GO. GET LOST. 

Not all who wander are lost,

Whit

 

Soccer AKA futbol. Love of the game.

Some people like the endurance sport and others find it pointless to run around chasing a ball. To each their own, but all I know is that soccer has brought good people in my life and has taught me countless valuable life lessons. I’ve learned in the Army that most people just want one or two take-aways from anything lengthy. Feel free to go to the bottom after Warrior Pose 1 comment!

My freshman year in college I had a professor, who I am very close with now, who tormented me in his computer technology class. I’m talking about calling me out in front of the class, having me stand up and answer questions, or even moving me towards the front of the classroom just so he could “see” me better. I’m an introvert; I belong in the BACK of the class!!! What brought this torture on? I had a soccer shirt on. His immediate response when I walked in, ten minutes early to class (who knew no one showed up until one minute prior to class?), no one in the classroom, “Soccer?! You know that’s the communist sport taking over the world?!” in his booming football coaching voice. I froze. Insert panic, sweaty palms. Fidgeted, did an awkward double check the room number and class schedule just to make sure I didn’t accidentally step into the wrong class. Nope. This was the class. This was the professor. He moved me upfront and started calling me Withrow and inserted communist sport comments here and there, along with why people chase a ball around a field for 90 minutes just to end up in a tie. I would make sarcastic comments back saying soccer players don’t need time outs, four quarters, and a 20 minute halftime, just to play 60 minutes of football that takes three hours to complete. This torture became enjoyable before midterms.  It became hilarious when I was complaining about this professor to a fellow freshman calculus student who finally confessed before semester end that it was her dad. Insert priceless awkward moment. They are my second family in Iowa/Kansas who I cherish.

Soccer wasn’t an easy sport for me to get into. In fact, it took a great man, Dave Peoples, to convince my parents to let me play in fifth grade. I still remember him coming over to my house multiple times to discuss soccer. At this time I had only known football -- playing on my brothers seventh grade tackle football team. I have never even watched a soccer game. With much persuading, my parents allowed me to play soccer and never looked back. I’m still convinced Dave Peoples saved me in letting me get to know the love of soccer. His motivation, vision and charisma kept me in the game for three years before he passed away. The team got black “DP” bands and wore them each game. In high school and college, I continued to wear my “DP” band, always thanking him for this amazing gift, every scrimmage, every game. He was/is one of the greatest people I have ever known. It’s so hard to believe that this past September marks 14 years…

Another Dave entered my life in high school-- Dave Goldstein. He was a soccer college coach in Oregon who started actively talking to me after my freshman year in high school. The Boise soccer club team I was on wasn’t working out with my schedule so he asked me to join his U-19 team, FC Perigrinos. Yes, it’s Spanish and a Mexican bird, and no, he was the whitest/hippy soccer coach you could ever meet.  I didn’t care about the name or color of our jersey (BRIGHT yellow!). I cared about the integrity of the coach, his vision, how he treated us younger players playing three levels up, and our development as soccer players. I enjoyed his honesty in our individual style of play. If we were sucking, he would tell us; if we did something well, he would let us know. He let my vision take over whenever I played; never restricting me, holding me back. He let me, be me. He gave me total freedom on the soccer field. His coaching philosophy was canny, direct and enjoyable. The biggest take away I took from three years with Dave—he would coach us during the week and he would bring his chair on game day and sit down. I remember asking why he sits and he replied, “You guys know what you need to do from training this week. I’m here to watch you guys play the game.”  I loved that concept! John Wooden is one of my favorite coaches to read about coaching philosophy (yes, he is basketball, which is still a great sport) and one of my all-time favorite books to read, “Wooden,” John is quoted saying, “failure to prepare is preparing to fail.” How easy and simple. Dave passed away while I was in college during open heart surgery. There is a picture that I was given my senior year in high school basketball season that I have on my wall—it shows me dribbling across a screen, you know doing a sweet move, preparing for an awesome assist to the post (those comments are dripping with sarcasm), but that’s not important. The people in the background—my sister, nephews, brother, mom, and Dave, all sitting right behind the bench.  Its these moments when you are older that you wish you could go back in time and relish, sit there and enjoy their presence, support, and love. Two Dave’s who have greatly impacted not only my life but my coaching philosophy and how I want to impact the players I coach.

I fell out of love with soccer for a long time. Quite simply, it was no longer fun but more of a burden. Junior and senior year was not the greatest on or off the field… out of every bad thing there is good, right? There is that saying, “those who can’t play, coach.” Injuries lead me to be an assistant coach, learning how to warm up keepers before games, working on practices, setting up fields, watching film, and how to progress drills to meet the final goal of the week. Something inside of me awakened that had been dormant for so long. Passion. Desire. Love.  Soccer is powerful, wrenching on the body and mentality. It’s not a giving sport. There are no time outs. You will make mistakes but you move on. Sometimes 90 minutes goes 120 minutes and you just have to keep going. When you stop running, you lose. Soccer is a paradigm of life.

When I got back to Idaho after six months of playing Army, an old friend (we’ve known each other since we were five years old) asked me to help coach a U-13 girls team. At first I was hesitant because I didn’t know if I was ready to be back in soccer. It’s hard to teach something you have a love/hate rollercoaster ride with... but I couldn’t say no. I’m so thankful to be coaching them because they have given me time to fall back in love with soccer. They certainly do have me wrapped around their feet with their unfiltered mouths talking about the strangest topics (unicorns and ketchup?), their laughter, them being 12 year olds talking about boys not focusing on practice, me yelling at them to focus and stop talking about boys and dances… such a blessing. Being around them and seeing their love for soccer has transferred over to me. I show up to practice and they all yell, “Whitney!” and when practice is over they always say, “thank you.” Their hearts are on the field and it’s amazing that they will completely surrender them to you as a coach. It’s also scary as hearts are so easy to break.

Two quick stories about the U-13 team…  1- This upcoming spring moms have asked for me to teach the girls how to change a tire, jump a car and fix a mountain bike chain; moms want to empower their daughters! This all came about when I helped jump start a players vehicle after practice—I was doing the hand signals for another car to pull up to the hood, had my jumper cables ready to go and one of the moms asked, “Wow, Whit, you know what you are doing. Did you grow up with brothers?” The daughter responded, “Mom, she’s Army. She can do anything.” I laughed and said yes to both. 2- Went to my first yoga session to support Niki's (coach of team) dream to be a certified, all out, yoga teacher and head to Chicago in a couple weeks. I was getting my mat ready to go and one of the soccer moms camp up to me and puts her hands on my shoulders saying, “I have to tell you that [daughter name] talks about your six pack all the time. She even said at practice when you are playing with them and you sweat how you can see your abs. She wants abs just like you!” I couldn’t help but literally laugh out loud, as did Niki. Def a compliment booster! (It also helps when the shirt is tucked into shorts/pants, gives a "leaner" look (haha)). It put into place the motto, “be careful what you say and do because little eyes and ears are listening and watching you.”

Almost done, don’t worry. Feel free to do Warrior Pose 1 at this moment.

Love of soccer. Love isn’t about you; it’s about the other person, your teammates, organization. The minute you start thinking love is all about you, that’s when greed and selfishness are gained, but your vision of the game is lost. I would always preach that soccer is all about K.I.S.S.—Keep. It. Simple. Stupid. The only thing on the soccer field that doesn’t sweat is the soccer ball. If you are working harder than the soccer ball then you are losing the game, tiring yourself out mentally and physically. You won’t be ready for any overtime. Take a step back and look at your life—if you are worrying about the future and regretting the past, then you are losing the game of the present. Yes, there are a lot of sucky people out there that have bruised your heart but maybe it’s almost halftime for you, you’ll get a break and you can change your lineup. The score isn’t final until the whistle blows. Guess what? In your life, you are the ref which means you have the whistle.

Not all who wander are aimless,

Whit