Christmas 2011 - Life IS like a box of chocolates, with the best stuff always on the inside.. :-)

It's 3 days before Christmas and I'm sitting here in the early morning writing the Quillins' Christmas letter. In the past I've said I've posted it on FB because I want to be so "green" but the truth is I went the simple route this year. And that's OK. I don't always believe that simpler is better,  but this year I am embracing and celebrating that truth. Ecclesiastes assures us that there is "a time for everything". There is a time for extravagance, and I don't mean just the material kind. There is a time of great fullness and packing everything you can into your experience of life. And there is a time for great simplicity, which can be just as rich and fun as the former. If we are honest, we usually embrace simplicity when life forces it upon us. And if we are wise, we will live in it and enjoy it just the same.

That is what 2011 meant to me this year. Simplicity. Struggle. Surrender.

At the end of last year, Matt began travelling a little for a new endeavour with work. Because of the implosion of the construction industry these past several years in Las Vegas, the company my husband works for began partnering with a company in North Dakota with the booming oil business there. In the beginning, it felt like a side note. A casual conversation about some work that was happening in that strange foreign land just south of the Canadian border. Little did we all know that this was the beginning of incredible life change filled with possibility, promotion and TONS of prayer.

I was home caring for our 3 children, volunteering with our church and getting our kids all through 3rd, 1st and Kindergarten grades. That was filling my days enough. I had resigned from Women of Faith a couple months earlier which in the foreknowledge of God was necessary as unbeknown to us, Matt began travelling just a couple weeks afterwards. We would have never been able to both travel and keep our family intact and sane. Well, sane-r :-)

Well in 2011, a little travelling became a regular part of our lives. Matt was overseeing the building of a huge warehouse complete with truck bays, offices and eventually dorm style rooms for the men living transitionally in the rural town of Parshall, North Dakota. The partnership with that company dissolved and Matt was now working full time for their own company, North Country Oil by May. In all honesty, even though the changes came quickly, I didn't feel the depth of them, as I was very full time at home. Matt always came back from his time up there just when it was right. So life continued.

Corinne began Kindergarten last year and now is full time in 1st grade. She is this incredible bundle of joy, energy, toughness and style. A great student but chatty at times which gets her into a little trouble but nothing a quick warning doesn't cure. Corinne danced last year and now is concentrating on gymnastics. She has the fearless personality which I believe gymnastics requires and is having the time of her life.

Cole completed first grade with all "A"s with only one "B" the entire year. I have loved watching Cole walk through his little life. He loves responsibility and leadership. He's very diplomatic and has fairness always on his radar. I think he's going to be a great leader of people with a wonderful work ethic. With Matt gone so much, he has missed our camping trips to the dunes to ride his quads and dirt bike, but we were able to sneak in a couple trips when Matt came home. Basketball was a new sport for him this year and though he's not the fastest on the court or the soccer field, he has found his niche in defensive play and smiles the entire time.

Cosette finished a challenging 3rd grade year with greater confidence and competence. I am so proud of her growth this past year. She continued to dance but now has taken up the flute and truly enjoys it. I can tell because of the amount of time she will practice and try new things with no pushing on my part to practice, which I am thankful! Turning 10 this past November, I have watched her mature and grow in greater ways than ever before. She is really embracing her role as the "oldest". Her younger brother and sister don't always welcome her help, but I do my best to acknowledge her efforts to care about them.

The Quillin kids all were part of Missoula Children's Theater this past spring in "King Arthur's Quest" and loved it. They just finished being a part of our church's Christmas musical as well. Ever since they were little, we've been a "package" deal with them all being so close in age. At times it has felt like I had triplets. And though they are each becoming very much their own persons, we do live life very much together.

Back to Matt and me... :-)

After Matt and I celebrated our 11 year anniversary in May, the very next morning Matt left for 5 weeks to dig in deeper with this new company in ND. It was our first real test being apart for that length of time. On one hand, it was terribly difficult being apart, but on the other we really felt the provision of God for work and we welcomed it. It was difficult for both of us not having him here for school awards and dance recitals and sports celebrations, but again, the constant worry of a declining work industry here in Vegas was being lifted and we felt God's faithfulness to us... again.

Matt came home just 2 days before our family vacation this summer. My parents, Al and Nancy Armas celebrated their 50th anniversary in 2011 and we planned a long overdo family reunion. After a couple of days in Chicago and my kids and hubby experiencing their first Cubs game with a stop at Taste of Chicago afterwards, we loaded up in a couple of SUV's and headed to Emerald Isle, North Carolina where we rented a beach house large enough to hold all of the 21 Armas', spouses and grand kids. You may think that to be very overwhelming, but it was by far one of the greatest family vacations I have ever taken. The richness of us all being together in a beautiful part of the country, watching the cousins play so freely and seeing the legacy of our parents marriage was truly a gift and the best part of our summer.

After getting home, Matt had to get back to work and it was at that time we (or I should say I) realized that North Dakota was going to be a part of our lives for awhile. We packed up and drove to North Dakota by way of Yellowstone and Wyoming to spend a week there for me and the kids to get a first hand sense of what was happening. I wish I could say I had a better reaction to it, but when we pulled into a very rural place where their company was establishing itself, something inside me broke. Seeing the barrenness of the land and the substantial decrease of population, especially women and community, I had huge questions of our life there. Though it was busy with activity with all the new work, this was not a picture-perfect country town I had been envisioning. My hubby could see the culture shock on my face and through my tears, we found a campsite near his work and on a large beautiful lake. We stayed there for a week with the kids playing and me trying to get a sense of this new land. My parents graciously drove up from Chicago and spent the week with us there which was a saving grace for me as we drove around exploring while Matt worked. At night, we came back to campfires and grilling while the kids played outdoors until way past 10 p.m. when the sun finally set in that part of the country.

After a week there, me and the kids flew back to Vegas and life became very different immediately. Matt was now a significant part of North Country Oil, and the underground work of building homes, plus the completion of their company building. Incredible sacrifices Matt has made to provide for us as a family. He continues to work way too many hours with little time off. But he gets up everyday and does that. Love played out daily. In all my doubts and concerns, I have never held that lightly how dedicated he is. So my journey has become how can I best live out my vows and support this man God has given to me.

One thing we knew for sure, we didn't want to do life apart on a long term basis. We didn't know what that meant and still don't exactly, but we began a real prayer journey of this new chapter of our lives. Where would we go? How did we sort out the incredible provision of work, but in a place I wasn't confident we would thrive in? Was this a new adventure and groundbreaking place we were being led to or was this a pit stop to a new place we would eventually dig deep in community? Those are the answers we still don't have the answers for. But we did know that we needed to be ready to pull up our tent pegs and be ready. Faith is truly one step at a time. So in September, we placed our house on the market. That itself is another step of faith as Las Vegas continues to have the highest foreclosure rate and declining housing values, though there are signs of a slow reversal to that. So I spent our fall spending more time talking with home improvement experts and working with contractors than ever before. It was my role to get the kids ready for the new school year and a new season of soccer. We took the kids to the Scandinavian Festival in Minot, ND at the end of September to see Matt and see the land again. The crew of North Country oil has always welcomed us there and though I felt like a fish out of water, they have been the most kind and gracious to me and the kids.

This past fall we lost my husband's grandmother, Grandma Ann. It has been a huge loss to all of us. I have truly never met a more silly, thoughtful, loving, stubborn, faithful woman. She has lived her life celebrating everything God has given to her and everyone God has placed in her lives. We celebrated her life this past December at her memorial in California.

I also had the privilege of returning to Chicago for the memorial of my college roommate's dad, Mr. Dick Brandel. It was a true coming home weekend for me and a welcome time to be a part of great familiarity and sense of home in this uncertain time of our lives. Mr. Brandel, as I always knew him, was an incredible man. He was always my good friend's dad, but there was this simply greatness about him as a servant hearted, wise man of God. I consider it a privilege to have had my childhood and young adulthood blessed by his presence in my life.

So today, Christmas is a lot simpler. The kids were a part of the church's musical again and there is just the tree up with only about half of the usual ornaments on them. The house is a little messier and I'm less stressed. Santa shopping was also different as it was just me. Matt is back late on the 23rd and will be home through New Year's and then the big question mark goes up again of what this year will hold.

But this day, in all truthfulness, I hold unto His Unchanging Hand with a grip like a child holding onto their parent on a roller coaster ride. The ride is full of excitement, unknown turns and a little scary, but He's holding onto us and so we can enjoy the ride knowing we will never be let go. We are surrendered to it and I look forward to what I will write next year :-).

Life IS like a box of chocolates, if I may steal Forrest Gump's iconic line. But I think it is because the BEST stuff is what's on the inside. Love. Faith. Family. And Jesus. Who said He would make His home inside us and take on permanent residence there. It is THIS Jesus we celebrate this year. The baby in the manger who came to an unlikely place to let us know, beyond all doubt that He is here and Love is the reason.

Blessings to all of you, family, friends old and new.

Merry Christmas,

The Quillins
2011

My Offering

This morning as I was hanging in there with my workout before the kids awoke, the workout leader was having us cool down and consider our day. As I sat twisted in unbelievable yoga pretzel moves, she challenged us to give our days back to Christ as an offering. To consider that how we live and love this day will be a gift back to Him. The song playing overhead was in fact called, "My Offering" and so I took the challenge. How will this day today be a worthy offering back to God?

Immediately, my mind went to my kids. How well I love and lead my kids today would be my offering. Now, of course  I was humbled by the challenge, as I have found more than any other arena of my life, being the mom I want to be is a daunting task. A love task, certainly. But daunting and overwhelming. I have been brought to my knees more as a mom than in any other season of my life. Don't misunderstand me, now. I LOVE being a mom and I TREASURE my kids. I just have been made acutely aware of the battles and uncertainties and second guessing parenting can bring. Am I being hard on myself? Maybe. But truly I feel if I mess up this area of my responsibilities, or rather entrustments, not a whole lot can make up for it. SO... as I peeled my right leg off my contorted knee, I prayed a simple prayer. "God, today as I love my kids, this will be my offering back to You. Please help :-)"

The morning went on as usual. We are coming to the last weeks of school and we all are ready for a break in our morning routine. As I was finding underwear and socks from the dryer and searching for the one lost shoe under the couch, Cole woke up in a daze and started to complain that when he moves his legs, all the muscles in his face hurts. Good one, huh? I must say, pretty creative. So gently, I encouraged him to wake up slowly and walk off his face pain and began my urging to all 3 kids to finish getting ready. Cole stood up, started to wobble and began to complain his legs weren't "working". I've seen this lack of enthusiasm for school before in all three of my kids, but Cole was warming up his Oscar award on this one. He's a sensitive and great kid and usually I can work out any hesitation by the time we need to get in the car, but he was unrelenting. He finished getting ready, ate his Cheerios and played a quick game of Wii before we left. I thought, "He's fine. Let's go. "

As we pulled into school, the girls got out and Cosette quickly ran to her classroom. One down. Good. Corinne waited for me to walk her to class and Cole stayed in the car. "I can't go today, Mom. My head and my legs hurt." I told him he couldn't wait in the car and let's walk to class. I reassured him that I wanted him to try to go and if there was any problem the nurse would call me. He wasn't crazy about that response. Then I told him we would go and talk to his teacher and see what she thinks. As we walked to his class first, his eyes filled with tears and he said, "Mom, I can't go. Can't I just go home with you? Can't I have a break today?" Something inside his little head and heart was going on. I asked his teacher to come out and left them together while I walked Corinne to her class. When I came back, he was still outside his class. I told her I thought his dad being gone had taken its toll right now and he might just need a day home today. Mrs. Bellini agreed and sent home his daily classwork.

As we walked to the car, he put his arm around me. And God seemed to whisper, "Here's what you need to do today. Be with My son." Amazingly, his walk was strong and sturdy as we got into the car. The limps of the heart are harder to see.

So on this Cole day, we stopped at 7-11, got a slurpee at 9 a.m. along with a glazed donut. We made a quick trip to Redbox to rent a Wii game and headed home. The entire time, Cole took my hand or had his arm around me. And I was glad. Glad to be able to be there for him in a unique way. Grateful to have been able to see the bigger need and hear His whisper about how to love my kid. Thankful for the grace to help me be the mom I needed to be in the moment.

So today was my offering back to God in the form of slurpees, Wii and a quiet hug from my son.

Not bad. :-)

God in the Unexpected....

I entitled my blog, "Gracious Interruptions" because I started to see how the interrupted times can be the really great times of our lives. When something or someone breaks through our all-so-important daily agendas or the mundane of our lives or our preplanned ideas to bless us with something wonderful....these are the things and the people and the moments we always remember. And I wanted to always remember so I began writing them down.

I had one just a few minutes ago.

It had been one of the busiest seasons in our lives as a family. We began the school year with me assigned to an all consuming new work project, all three of my kids were in school, and my parents were returning from Chicago. My oldest Cosette during the second week of school displayed an unprecedented school anxiety and it was a very difficult first month with daily tears and stomach aches. Matt was doing a side job for some friends each weekend for about 5 full weekends and we didn't see him much and then he headed for some much needed rest on his hunting trip. So it felt very fast and very full.

Well, I finished my project with work about halfway through the month of October and Cosette was showing much greater confidence and peace about school. But we have still remained a very active family. I haven't really felt the pace decrease significantly.
This past weekend we celebrated my dad's 80th birthday and in the midst of all the preparations, we still had soccer and homework etc. Halloween soon followed and the kids were off for several days.

So today, I finally got to take a shower at the end of the day when Matt came home. While I was in the shower, as it often happens, I sighed. I said out loud to no one, "I'm tired." I was coming down from a lot of activity and I was tired. It feels good to say those words every once in a while, like a confession, "Hi, my name is Mary, and I'm tired."

Not knowing what the solution to my tiredness would be, besides a long nap and a week's vacation to some beach, somewhere, Cole came into my room as I was finishing up. And to be truthful, I wanted just a few more minutes of aloneness. Just a few more minutes before someone would start their sentence "Mom, can I.....? Mom, can you.....? Honey, what's for dinner?" But he came in and he said, "Mom, do you want a taste? Boompa got some cookies for his birthday. Do you want to try one?"

I smiled and took the cookie and he ran off and I just smiled and then teared. I went back into my bathroom and just sighed again.

In my tiredness, my son came and brought me a cookie.

And I felt the love of God again. :-)

I am convinced that God shows up in the unexpected with the unexpected and meets us there. He hasn't lifted all the demands of my life as wife, mother, daughter and friend. He hasn't removed the pressures of bills and laundry and homework and my husband's dusty boots. He hasn't said I will remove all the stress of your life. But He has and has always and will continue to show up in the love of a 7 year old son with a cookie in his hand for his mom.

And He shows up in an unexpected phone call from a dear friend who always fills me up.

And in the kindness of a stranger in the grocery store.

And in the words of a greatly led worship song.

And in the laughter of a baby.

And in the forgiveness of a spouse.

And on and on and on and on.

These days, when I have often asked the question, "God where are You? I cannot see or feel Your presence and I am worried and so tired and not strong. Show Yourself because I just need to see You... here... now." When I have uttered those words to my Faithful Savior, He again reveals Himself and graciously gives me the eyes to see it.

Tonight, it was in the form of a boy with a cookie in his hand.
So tonight. Eat a cookie and feel the love of the Father for you.......

Tying My Father's Shoes....

It's been a while since I have written which is indicative of how fast my life was this past year. And now because of a careful decision, things are a little slower, not much, but somewhat and my mind can rest a little from just handling the next demand on my list to a reconnection with my heart and the things that matter most.... my family, the people who are precious to me, the condition of my soul and my Lord.

So today's reflection goes back to a moment yesterday. A brief 15 second precious encounter with my dad.

Yesterday, I tied my father's shoes.

We were in a Hispanic grocery market purchasing a pork leg we are going to roast tomorrow for his 80th birthday. I love all things Latin and Hispanic and Cuban. And I feel closest to my dad when we talk about things Cuban and his and my heritage.
When we buy Latin food and I get to practice my broken Spanish.
When I look at my dark pigmented skin which I disliked as a child in Chicago for the teasing it brought me, but love it now for it reflects me and that I am my father's daughter. And he still calls me "carneprieta" which affectionately means, "dark meat". I know it doesn't translate well, but it's been my nickname since I was a little girl.

But back to yesterday :-)

A few years ago my dad was diagnosed with Parkinson's. He and my mom have lived with us for about 7 years now and as his disease progresses slowly, daily, I can see the Hand of God in that decision to all live under the same roof. Within the past year or so, I have seen my dad age more. And I have been seized with the realization that time is precious and is to be held in moments to always to remember. I worry more about my dad now. When he walks the stairs and when he shuffles his feet. But after getting past the physical slowness, anyone can discover a man who loves people. Who loves to talk to anyone. Who loves to tell stories and still to this day has the most inquisitive mind. Even after fully retiring from medicine a few years ago, he still loves to read his JAMA journals and will always be a resource to anyone who asks.

But again, back to yesterday :-)

We headed over to the Hispanic market to pick up the traditional Cuban pork leg. You can tell even after all these years in this country which he loves, he feels most alive around all things Latin. As we were checking out, he was bending down to tie his shoes and was losing his balance. So I bent down and tied his shoe. He then asked me with a laugh to tie the other one. And I thought how grateful I am to have lived this life as his daughter. Lived this life knowing I am loved. Lived this life provided for by this man. And now that I am grown and fully living the life of a mom, I get a glimpse of the sacrifice and commitment and heart it requires. And my dad has and to this day gives it to me.

I am in a new season of life now with my dad, as are all of my brothers and sisters. And we welcome it. We consider it a privilege to care and love and celebrate our father. We hold these moments near to us for we don't know what tomorrow holds. But we have these little moments. This time with my dad is teaching me to slow my world. Slow my conversations. Slow my heart to seize the moments. All the moments. I tend to run too fast in my mind and in all the things I want to do. I feel the demands of everything around me and my people pleasing tendency causes me to carry more than my share. This time with my dad is teaching me to strip off the things that really don't matter and to remember the weight of the world does not rest solely on my shoulders. That this life is more than just about me. But I get to be a player in it. And I am thankful.

So today, I will take more pictures, cook more recipes, talk to more people, serve with greater intensity, read more books and love a whole lot deeper. And I can thank my dad for bringing me to this place again.

Happy Birthday, Dad!

Love always, your Carneprieta :-)

If only I could...

I have spent the last 24 hours in a hospital room with my 7 year old desperately wanting to see her kidney infection clear and the vomiting to stop. Strange things happen to you in hospital rooms. Even more so when the patient is not you, but one of the people you love the most in this world.


Last fall, I had a cancer scare. For 6 weeks we didn't know if I had what I had been dreading since I was 20 - breast cancer. We didn't know. During those 6 weeks, some wonderful things happened in my heart. When we see the reality of our mortality right in front of us through doctor appointments and lab reports, a wonderful clarifying effect happens. Like the cream that rises to the top of fresh milk, the things that are of great value to us rise to the front of our minds and hearts.


But when it is your child....


Cosette was diagnosed with renal reflux a year and a half ago. I had never heard of it until one of our pediatricians wanted to test for it after Cosette had had a few urinary infections. He scared me that day in his office of how serious it could be if this goes untreated and undiagnosed. Her kidneys could fail, he told me.


Wait... what just happened? When did she get so sick? What didn't I do? How did this happen?


We began treatment and had one horrible test that no one, especially a 6 year old girl, should have to go through and sure enough she was diagnosed with renal reflux - grade 2, bilaterally.

OK, here we go....


Grade 2 is actually a good prognosis. If it goes to grade 4 or 5 which is the highest grade, it can be very very serious. She may actually outgrow the condition, our urologist said.


For over a year and a half, she was infection free. Until last Sunday....

Her fever spiked Sunday night and when it does, I have to rule out a kidney infection first. So Monday morning we were in our pediatricians office. Yes, she has an infection. Followup with the urologist, we were told. Cosette then began throwing up everything, including her antibiotic and the stakes began to get higher. The next thing I know, we are in Sunrise Children's Hospital ER.

Now it begins...

Because she was so dehydrated it took 5 different needle pokes and 5 different sites to get the IV started. After the 3rd stick, I asked if we could give her some miracle nausea medicine to stop the vomiting, get her to drink lots of fluids and then give her the antibiotic orally. But she's SO dehydrated, they said. She really needs the IV. Ok...

I almost suggested if I could give them my arm instead....

And that's where my heart ended up during those 24 hours in the hospital. Wishing I could substitute myself for her. If somehow I could take her place. Absorb her pain. Endure her fever and run her risks of kidney problems. Let me take her place...

After the 4th stick was unsuccessful, I muttered, "damn it" and I probably would have said more if my daughter wasn't sitting there. They finally got it in and here was the amazing part. My daughter who is terrified of shots at the doctors, didn't cry... just sat there...with more bravery than I knew she had and endured the pain. Every time I watched her big light brown eyes get bigger when she was stuck yet she uttered not a word. I was more and more proud of her. And even more I wanted to switch places with her.

We then spent the next 24 hours eating hospital food, playing Yahtzee, watching High School Musical 2 with her in her hospital jammies and me shower less and trying to comfort her anxiety of what was happening to her. She continually reached for my hand with one arm and with the other we watched the antibiotics and fluid rehydrate and heal her little body through little tubes. When resident after resident doctor came in, she answered their questions and smiled. She looked too vulnerable in that hospital bed all hooked up and little.

And when I thought she was immune to all the fear, and after she bravely endured the last test, it was just her and me. She finally began to cry and said, "Mommy, I want to go home now." So I held her and fortunately we were released shortly thereafter.

She still has the kidney reflux and it doesn't look like she's going to outgrow it. So there will be more tests. More pokes. Possibly a surgery. More bravery.

If only I could take her place...

But I can't and so I'm left with this impossible love found in every mom. I have to let her go through life with all it's ups and downs, heartaches and joys, pains and pleasures. And she'll grow and become more beautiful. We both will discover the character within her we won't know she had. She'll light this world for good. I've been given the front row seat of watching her, cheering her on, picking up the pieces and helping her be the girl, young lady and woman God has created her to be.

So much. And she's only 7.

More than words...

Last night and into this morning and I find myself..."word-less", (if that's even a word!). That may seem to be a contradictory statement as I find myself blogging...words. But I have wanted to capture this moment somehow..... this is all I know....

Some events have lead me to this place, I think...

a nagging sense that my words to others have seemed empty...

a waiting for some next steps in my life....

a grieving of some things lost in my life...

a powerful, in explainable witness of life change in the lives of over a thousand...

an instruction to simplify a prayer...

a time of worship in community...

Last night I had no words to pray or to say. I had not much to say to others or my family....just wanted to be with them. As I reached for the radio as I drove, it felt loud and noisy and I was compelled to turn it off. When I was with others, if felt like my words were more to create a space and it was much better for me to be quiet and listen to my friend.

I cannot explain this and I will resist trying to. I will stop trying to learn the lesson, to create the practical application. I will resist translating this time into a ministry tool. And I will try to listen.

Listen. Observe. Watch. Engage. Be aware. Those are my "disciplines" today.

Knowing that my God knows my heart and our union is not dependent upon my words.

Knowing that my relationships with those I love most may better be served by my listening life.

Confident that I may see deeper than before.

I don't know. I have no more words.. :-)

The Best Me....

My world shifted. Not in a traumatic way but more in a subtle everyday slow undetectable unnoticeable kind of way. And yesterday I realized that the surprise to me was not that it shifted but that I finally noticed it. My eyes were opened and I saw that I had been off.

Living from my center. What does that mean? I think it is one of those things we recognize more when we are not doing it than we are. But what center? What does that look like? Yesterday I woke up just feeling off. Like I had been on a conveyor belt, a people mover, and was just going where it led me. It happens so subtly. I know that the demands of my world keep me there. There are so many things I am responsible for I seldom stop. I just keep meeting those needs. But I also know that when I feel overwhelmed with what I think I am to carry, I can retreat into a robotic kind of life where I just go through my routine and do the things I need to do and I neglect the centered heart that I long to live by.

When I think of a centered place, I imagine the BEST me I can. We all have that image of ourselves. It's us on our best days. I like this woman. I would want to be friends with her. She's funny and energetic and full of life. She brings light and levity and encouragement to her world. She's optimistic and hopeful and loving. She's passionate and truthful and confident. She fights against unkindness and injustice. She's not easily swayed by circumstances but steadfast in who she is. She's comfortable in her own skin. She knows who she is and she lays aside who she isn't. She smiles. She's good and Godly.

That's my centered me. That description of me is the result of me pursuing centeredness. It means for me having a moment at the beginning of my day, when I feel like I am at the starting line of today's race, to pause and think and write and allow my heart to slow and my fears to silence and the demands to quiet. Before the gun goes off, I must stop before my Father who meets me here in my thinking and my writing and gently leads me to His heart, my center. My Father who adores me and loves me leads me today.

I have realized in this life, at this time of my life, I must do this everyday. I am much too swerve-y on my own. So today I pause and I pursue the Center and I look for this best me.

And the race begins today. Tonight when I lay down my head on my pillow when I cross today's finish line, I want to rest in knowing I was that me I long to be. It's all I have to bring to this life. I want to live it well.

So who is your best you? I need her or him. The world needs your best you. Let that person loose today.

The gun just went off... the race has begun.