adventure.

​Our Heavenly Father is hilarious. I mean, really! God has a sense of humor. He’s pithy. He’s witty. And, He’s always right.
 
In 2015 I decided to push away from the undoubtedly failed expectations of New Years' resolutions and instead embrace the concept of themes. Novels have a theme. Sermons have a theme. Instagram feeds have a theme (not mine, but you get the point).
 
Having already verbally committed to a few adventure challenges on and off the bike for 2015, I simply selected the word adventure to inspire the 365 days that followed. I would say yes to challenges, excitement, and pretty much anything that scared me. So when Jason asked me late December of 2014 to put our beloved Skitts Mountain home on the market and move back to Banks County, in a moment of impulse, I said yes.
 
I documented the entire 2015 adventure courtesy of the Notes app. (see screen shots)
 
The year began with us listing our Skitts Mountain home, which went under contract in 24 hours and closed 24 days later (talk about adventure), to finally moving in to our newly remodeled post-flood home in Banks County (yes, I said flood).
 
In between, I completed my adventure challenges such as my first century on a bike followed by riding Coast to Coast in Florida the following weekend, all 174 sweltering miles. I trained for a marathon that ultimately ended in a heat advisory pulling runners from a course. 20 miles is still my longest distance to date and I’m honored to have run that with dear friends in downtown Cleveland, Georgia on a chilly October morning. I completed my first triathlon on the New River in Virginia. What I naively hoped would take 8 hours, took 10. True, I couldn’t pee without wincing for the next 24 hours due to dehydration, but to see my husband and dad at every transition cheering me on, was indescribably worth it!
 
I also said yes to some professional adventures appearing on stage as the mother of Elle Woods in the school production of Legally Blonde. I accepted the position as Program Director for our gifted school-within-the-school under the guidance of my beloved mentor, where I am daily learning that I know nothing about student leadership or educational politics.
 
Some adventures were not so fun. In February, after selling one home and having the other flooded, we moved into what I lovingly called “the tiny house experiment” in downtown Cleveland, Georgia. Thanks to our dear friend, he rented us his grandmother’s charming 800 square foot home. During the transition, we lost our beloved Racooney at the age of seven. Even my cat-detesting husband cried with me. In September, while still living at “the tiny house experiment” even though my father-in-law said we’d be moved in to our new home by May, we adopted our little man, Quigley. AKA Quiggles. AKA Big Quiggs. AKA, Quigmeister. AKA, the cutest and most cat-like (Jason will be offended by this) Australian Shepherd puppy!
 
All of these adventures were public knowledge. All of these adventures were Instagram worthy, even the unplanned.

But what people did not know is that the deeply seeded adventure planted within my heart was motherhood.

​At that time, during our 8 years of marriage (now coming up on 10), this true adventure had eluded Jason and I. While all my friends were starting families in their early and mid 20s, I had convinced myself that we were just not ready. We had bigger obstacles to tackle. We were battling seizures, finding the right doctors and medication for Jason (more to tell). We were raising a teenager, which turned into raising a college student (clearly, more to tell). We were trying to find the balance with our lives that looked nothing like anyone else’s.
 
But in 2015, we decided that in order to truly embrace the one adventure I could not mind-over-matter my way through, we were going to need help.
 
I began a slow but progressive regime of hormones. The adventure training turned out to be a blessing and a curse. Some days it was good to get outside to run or bike the crazy off. Other days, the training only exacerbated the crazy. Just ask my training partners who are probably still reeling from PTSD after experiencing the worst hormonal breakdown in history. Just six miles in, off Green Street in downtown Gainesville, I allowed the matter to take over my mind, and my mouth. An ocean wave of tears, fears, and insecurities cascaded upon that morning run. And like the tsunami that ensued, it could not be stopped.
 
I later learned through another doctor (because one medical opinion is never enough) that there is a statue of limitations on the length of time one should be on that particular hormone regime. I had not only exceeded the maximum dosage but had done so by four months!
 
No. Freakin’. Wonder! Sorry, friends! 
 
2015 came to end with Jason and I nestled in our newly restored home in Banks County. We spent New Years Eve unpacking the boxes that had been in storage for 11 months while our two furbabies slid across the freshly shalacked hickory floors.
 
God has a sense of humor. He knew that our hearts were set on family and home. As with Noah, God brought a flood that washed away all expectations and ability to plan, control, and he restored our home to something far greater than we could have ever imagined or truly deserved.
 
After living for eleven months in a musty 800 square foot home that slanted to one side, we now sit abundantly comfy and blessed in 6,000 square feet. Our hearts should be content, right?
 
Because 2015 was filled with so many unexpected adventures, I wanted to be careful and choose wisely my theme for 2016.
 
Sitting in my new home, breathing in the smells of freshly painted walls and waxed floors; I knew God had even bigger plans for 2016. Plans that called for . . . well, want to know? Then come back next Friday to see.