Thankful for memories

Hello bloggers and Happy Thanksgiving!

I am up late/early this Thanksgiving Eve... Thanksgiving Day. We traveled from Salem today and got to my parents late tonight. The intake of diet coke and the amount of time I snoozed in the car have made me awake past midnight. This year we have Thanksgiving dinner with my family and Christmas at home. I like this year, it is fun to see the fam and then relax and spend Christmas in our own house.

I have a bit of angst every time we travel to my childhood home. Where I currently live requires us to travel from Salem, OR to Eastern Washington. We go north on I5, which is always fun on a holiday weekend.. we hit I 205 (equally as fun) and then 84 and the Gorge which is full of gale force wind, rain and endless amounts of trucks. I usually lose 3-5 years from my life as Bruce navigates this each time. That isn't the angst, though.
The last part of this trip requires going by my grandparents' old homestead. It's not their original homestead, that place still stands, but it's the place they lived that I have the fondest/newest memories of. It no longer exists. Their old house/barn/yard and everything has been leveled. It's been years now, but every time I drive by there, my stomach knots up. I just HATE that it is gone. Tonight, however, we were approaching it and it was dark out, so I was unsure of the exact spot. I knew the roads and landmarks leading up, but as the time came to pass the empty place where their home once stood... I missed it.
Instead, I conjured up a memory of being there. There are so many, but the one that came to mind was of Nana making up Pepsi floats one night. I was there, the only grandkid (what a treat) and we were listening to the Prescott Football team at a playoff game on the radio. It was the year that we won state! Epic for our small town. This wasn't the state championship game, but a very important one, none the less. Nana was making Pepsi floats and we were all gathered around the radio and it was a wonderful memory.
It occurred to me that I don't need an old house or barn or yard to have the memories that were made and still are alive in my mind. I spent hours upon hours there, learning to bake, helping Nana in her yard, listening to her tell stories, "working" harvest with she and Mew as they spent their retired years still both working longer hours than most people do during their normal careers.
I have some objects from Nana and Mew's house. I own some of Nana's baking bowls and always think of her when I use them. I have some quilts and afghans, I love that she wanted me to have her Deacon's bench and there are still some yarn scraps and crochet needles in it that I can't bear to take out. I loved my Nana dearly and still wish she were able to meet all of my kids and get to know them, but some day in Heaven, they'll all have a grand time getting acquainted.

So, I'm thankful that I have a lifetime of memories to conjure up whenever I pass the old place where Nana and Mew used to live. I am very blessed to have had them as my grandparents.

Happy Thanksgiving, I wish for happy memories for all.

Dudster

Christ in Thanksgiving and Thanks in Christmas?!

I am on purpose writing a blog about Christmas before Thanksgiving, to accentuate the fact that I am on a bit of a rant.

There has been some talk in the media regarding the "even earlier than usual" Christmas decorations in the stores. I have grumbled every year about the early, like having the cheap post Halloween candy display flanked by a reindeer... get your own candy Rudolph!

I just drove Megan to her friend's for a sleepover and passed a house that is all decked out. Again, my immediate thought was "Wow, in the daylight, your approximately 6 blow up features that aren't blown up, look a bit like they've been in a war... and lost." I also had the thought that "Since when are woodland creatures playing on a see-saw a sight that makes me say, 'Thank you God, for sending us Your son.' " Then I was immediately a bit ashamed of myself. Examining oneself is probably a good practice from time to time... enter sarcasm punctuation.

Who am I to judge someone based on the decor of their house at Christmas? Shame on me. For all I know, they have a wonderful relationship with Jesus and choose to celebrate the season by decking their house like Clark Griswold, their choice. I choose, instead, to not sit in judgement. I will hope that the early decor in the stores provides an extra conversation for each Christ follower to have with a friend, child, parent or whomever about Christmas that otherwise may not have happened.

Now, this is the beginning of the week of Thanksgiving, a holiday oft overlooked in preparation of Christmas. Well, this Thanksgiving, I choose to be thankful for all the early bird Christmas people, all the Clark Griswolds and the chance for this Christmas to be awesome, let's break down that word... some awe. I hope you have "some awe" for our wonderful and very awesome Savior, whose birth we celebrate this season.

Now, go overeat, overbuy and overdecorate!

Dudster

Blog Brag on my Pirates

I must start this blog with a disclaimer... there will, no doubt, be a bit of biased opinions displayed throughout this blog entry, they are based on a bit of maternal instinct and a bit of love of all things Whitworth... there, I'm covered for the attorneys.

I am the mother of 2 boys/men children. They are Tyler and Trent and they are 2 1/2 years apart in age. They delight me. They, for the most part, always have. There were some times in there during the toddler years that I questioned my "delight." I am also mother to a darling girl, but sorry Megs... this post isn't about you right now.

My boys are runners, Bruce and I are both runners and pretty much LOVE that our boys are runners. There was a time when Tyler was a senior in high school and Trent was a freshman in high school that they were both on the same team. The West Salem Titans. I told Tyler that year that he was allowed to treat Trent like a freshman, but not like a little brother, that was the code. He did. They were district champs, Trent made varsity, represented, it was a good year to be a Dudley.

Fast forward to now... Trent decided to also attend Whitworth University, the very same institution his brother attends. I think that the coach was a big influence on this decision as was the fact that Trent witnessed the TEAM in action for these past 3 years. We've been fortunate enough to feed them several times at our house before meets and go to enough meets that we've grown quite familiar with Toby and the TEAM dynamic. I could go on and on about it, but instead I'm going to fast forward again to today, which was their conference meet.

Trent had been running poorly in the first half of the season, he'd been having good workouts but the races were horrible. It was just a "thing" he was having to work through. Toby and his teammates were helping and we were trying, but yeah, it was a tough start.

As luck would have it, the conference meet was hosted by Linfield and was quite near Salem, so the TEAM was able to come to our house and eat the night before. This, basically, makes me so happy... pause for the happiness quotient.... not enough, but I'll move on. I pretty much LOVE having 27 runners in my house... seeing the shoes in my entry way... their smiling, hungry faces... watching my crazy dog freak out and run from kid to kid for a pet.... my heart is so full. Toby's smiling face and, oh yeah, this time he brought the new Athletic Director along... so, yeah, I'm pretty much firing on all pistons.

They arrived... they prayed, they ate, they had fellowship with each other and the parents who were there and they left... it was awesome as always. My parting shot as they thank me is "Run fast" that's all I really want, my competitive nature is just to win.

Now, it's race day, we had the parents of the captain spend the night, Sue and Jim Jenkins, amazing, quality folks who reared an amazing, quality kid, go figure! Sue and I had discussed that the kids seemed a bit subdued at the dinner, not as goofy or loud as usual, we couldn't put our finger on it, but the adjective we came up with was "focused". We felt good about it, but being the crazy running moms we are... we both woke up feeling nervous for them, so silly, but yep, we were. We arrive at the course super early. Chatted with coaches and other parents... poised ourselves to watch the girls run and do a "dry run" for the boys' race.

Boys' race: Oh my... that's all I can really muster for this re-telling... I have in my mind this really cool movie footage from the race that "Seabiscuit" ran in that movie... all goes silent... and then the old time announcer voice comes on... and announces the race. Basically, the Whitworth boys ran out of their minds and won! I screamed my face off! I think I pulled something in my back... my throat is hoarse... my head was pounding from yelling. Aaron and Trevor ran awesomely... Tyler ran out of his mind... Eli outkicked Willamette's #4 in the last 50... Mark ran his face off.... I could go on and on. I was high on Whitworth runners and their amazing showing. I sort of hobbled over to the finish area and found them all and hugged/high fived/stared in dazed confusion at them... I had done the math and thought they won, but we were still a bit scared.

Then, the TEAM gathered together, no coaches around, just this young group of boys... they prayed, they thanked God for their race, they circled up and just glorified God. There were some moms crying... I wasn't among them... and then I realized why. I LOVE this TEAM... I have a senior on this TEAM... but I am so fortunate that I also have a freshman on this TEAM... I don't need to mourn the loss of it yet. I was immediately sad for those moms. I feel their pain and in 3 years somebody better get a really good counselor to help me.

So folks, this blog ends with this... sending your kids off to college is a scary/sad thing, but I will say that at least for me, I have a peace about the place they landed. I pretty much love their coaches and feel like God put them where He wants them to be and for that, I'm most grateful and humble.

Go Pirates!!! Kick some major "Booty" at Regionals!!!!!!!!

Mama Duds

PS.. the New Athletic Director got to witness first hand his very first Conference Championship, so yeah, that is another awesome thing too. He's a baseball guy and was very interested in the World Series game that was happening during "carbo load" time... October is XC time, NOT baseball... sorry!

You Da Manns!

This blog is dedicated to the Manns... that is Josh and Bex Mann... and Mercy...

I had this thought that I would be able to let the fact that the Manns were leaving our life go by.... I thought that I would be able to say a very feeble goodbye at their last staff coffee and that would be a goodbye... I was very wrong. Let's start at the beginning, a very good place to start.. if you are Maria Von Trapp... I'm not, but let me try. I have a very vivid memory of Josh Mann as an intern at SAC. I was working with the Preschool staff, Tess and Nancy, in a not on official staff payroll sort of way, but getting paid sort of way. Josh was an intern under Erik and was doing events and in that arena was my eldest son's assistant pastor. My early memory is of Josh seeking to have lunch with Nancy and Tess and me... he made it happen and ate with us and asked questions of us... if memory serves, Nancy made a very inappropriate fart joke... you adjusted quite well, I was impressed by your young, Doogie Houser self.

Tyler, my eldest would invite his friends (non churched kids) to events and Josh was "the main guy" who would engage. I have major recollection of follow up conversations with those kids about the "cool church dude". Always engaging, Josh, from the beginning.

After those times, I just praise God for the fact that He placed you in my kids' lives. Trent has been blessed by you... a million times.. and Megan... the same. I can't articulate, I just feel like God placed you into the middle of the Dudley's lives... for real, I'm so blessed that you have been the Pastor that God placed in my kids' lives. I pause here, because I can't articulate the emotion I feel here. (Sob) just doesn't seem to do it justice, but suffice to say.... there are tears on my keyboard.

So, Bex, on to you... I pretty much love you, so THAT is awesome for my crying self.... I feel like you and I are a lot of the same person. We both married young and also, I feel like our young marriages have faced a lot of the same obstacles.... call me crazy, but I know what I feel, call me on this, I'd love to share.

I have a very vivid memory of you sharing about your miscarriage with me... I shared with you about mine. I had one before I became pregnant with Megan. I know that God orchestrated mine and yours and that He had a plan for both of us to have our darling daughters as His plan unveiled... so happy that I could watch both of those plans play out. I love that I got to meet your daughter... I wish that my daughter could have become her best babysitter, but perhaps her friend she met at YouthQuake... I love God's plan....

But Bex, I do feel like God put you in my life and me in your life for a reason... our stories are close. We married young, our husbands are similar... I feel like we are a pair... please keep in touch.

So, the last "thing" to this blog... I was at the front desk today because our Monday girl got sick, I was sitting there answering phones and in walks Josh.... He waves at me....I believe he was leaving a key or something for Tim... doesn't matter, He waves.... I wave and immediately realize... Oh my Goodness...!" I say, " Good bye! Thank you for Pastoring all of my kids." He says, "Your kids are awesome." I love that boy... I reply, "I hope Trent can intern at your church." To which he replies, he hopes so. I say, that we love you and he is gone.

I am, in a weird way, glad that I'm the last interaction Josh has at SAC... Bex was the "girl Friday" as her first job... Josh and I go way back for '"jobs" here... I feel like it's appropriate.

I pray for Fox Island and the Manns, I just love that God has a plan for them, praise You God for your plan at Fox Island. I can't wait to see what You have planned for them.

The Long Haul

So, anyone who has any interaction with me, whatsoever, knows that I am an avid runner.  I have run all of my life.  I have a vivid recollection of my sister and I climbing up the hills in the wheat fields behind our house and running along the little patterns that the farm equipment had left preparing the field for seeding. Judy didn't enjoy running as much so she would usually stop and find dirt clods and try to hit me, but I would just run and run.  I loved it.  


I was fairly fast in small spurts too and would brag to my 2 older siblings, they'd get mad and tell our dad that I was bragging about beating them.  He thought he'd teach me a "Tortoise and the Hare" type lesson so he told them to challenge me to a race to the end of the pasture and back.  That would be about a mile and a half, give or take.  I eagerly agreed and took off like a shot.  They took a more educated approach and jogged along knowing that I'd die.  I was probably 8 and they were 10 and 11.  I crushed them.  I believe that on that day my dad decided I should run. 


 I played basketball, volleyball and softball instead.  Finally, in my junior year Dad managed to convinced me to go out for the track team.  I loved it, I made it to State, the following year I was 2nd and 4th in the 2 Mile and the Mile.  I went to college and ran and found a new love of Cross Country, which my small school never had.  I met my runner husband, my life changed because of running. 


Life went on and there was always running, it morphed from the competitive collegiate running into other racing, but somewhere along the way, I just realized that running is part of what God designed me to be.  I love it, it makes me... me.  I have heard all the funny jokes from "non runners", they're very clever.  I don't condemn, I run because I was made to enjoy it.  I have run 2 marathons, they each deserve their own blog entry, so I won't bore you with the details.  I LOVE Hood to Coast and have run many other "fun runs", but I must say that my favorite running memories are just me and the pavement, bark dust or gravel trail.  I pray while I run.  I solve lots of world problems and Dudley problems while I run.  I cry, sometimes, while I run.  There was a time in 2008 when I refused to run because my friend John Stumbo was so ill that he couldn't, so I wouldn't.  Then, when I resumed, I realized that I could cry and pray and run.  Multi faceted.  


So, this boring blog running story must have a point.  I am injured. DUMB!   I had been blissfully injury free for my entire career until... I got old!  In '09 I hurt my Plantar Fascia and long story short, my buddy/PT Josiah Faville fixed me up.  It was a process, but I was back in action. 


 Then a few months ago I hurt my hamstring.  I've been in PT again with the awesome PT Josiah since a while, I've lost track.  We were making progress, I was a puzzle which Josiah tried to piece together, apparently my SI joint was/is out of whack which made the hammy vulnerable.  Anywho... skip the boring PT stuff/torture (sorry Josiah) and fast forward to me attempting my 3rd "return to run" fiasco.  I basically am failing miserably at it and the hamstring is yelling at me about it and I FB message Josiah sniveling as always.  Bless his little heart, he emails me this long email today about the history of my injury (data backed studies) he dummies it down for me to understand that basically, the extent of what I've done to my hamstring over years of abuse and other circumstances means that I'm not running for a few (couple?, wishful thinking) months.  (Sigh, gulp, nope, not gonna cry).


Now, the title of this blog is "The Long Haul".  I've trained for many events in my years of running.  The marathon training is the long haul type of stuff.  I get it, I need to put in the hours of doing the exercises to strengthen this and that and get my hammy back to healthy. I need to undergo the lovely scraping and other things Josiah does to my leg to get it healthy. (no complaining allowed, he is ruthless)  


I have no doubt I'll run again, but in the meanwhile I am figuring this out.  God always provides me with a gentle or sometimes a plain old smack in the side of the head lesson.  This week it was in the form of my dear friend Don Bubna leaving this earth and entering Heaven.  What a party there must be.  My job at church is planning services and I am in the midst of doing that for Don and his family.  I love to think about the "Long Haul" that Don had here on this earth.  He encountered many bumps bigger than an injured hamstring.  He ran the race quite well and he is reaping the rewards right now.  


Pastor Don Bubna, thank you for teaching me so much about how to serve families during their times of grief.  You taught me so much and you always made me feel like a million bucks.  Love you friend. 


I am signing off, I will limp to bed, try not to cuss my failing leg and the pain it brings me... deep sigh... yeah, the long haul, I can do it and some day this blog entry will make me scoff at my whiny self. 


Dudster

HTC... PS

I have fully recovered from this year's Hood to Coast extravaganza. I blogged about it, I got my sleep in, I cleaned up the "bag of goodies". I feel like it's done. I have been, however, processing what next year may look like. I have been asked by the namesake of our team to retire the name. He made a good point.
We started the first year with "He's alive". John had barely survived his horrible encounter with the mystery illness and was slowly recovering when we embarked on Stumbo's Prayer Warriors, year one. He was there in the flesh to see us off that year. Very weak still and his voice was not so strong, but he showed up to send us off, such a blessing to us.

The next year was marked with a slight change in roster and a new shirt design that had "Run John Run" logos all over the place. I remember very well when I gave John the shirt that was made for him with that on it. I held my breath, worried that it would make him sad, but he loved it! He was doing way better health wise that year. He showed up to send us off again.

This year, he is doing even better with his health, he was not in Salem, but up in Gig Harbor, but still in touch with us. He actually called us prior to my van leaving the church to tell us a story as a send off. He had been at his new PT place and had worn his "Run John Run" shirt. The lady there asked him about it and he was able to share his story of near death and healing with her. Very cool to hear that our silly shirt is sparking conversations about much bigger things.

John Stumbo, you are a miracle. I count you as a friend and am so happy to have captained a team named for you. I will honor your wishes and retire the name. I am also retiring the team, at least with me as captain. I have thought about it a bunch and decided that my captainship is done. I pray daily that you will run again, I feel in my heart that you will. My recent injury has given me pause for much thought on this. I do love a good event like Hood to Coast, but I really just love running. My best runs are rarely from an event, but more often from a run where nobody is there. I miss those runs as I suspect you do St. Umbo. There will be a day in the future when you are running again and I will get another HTC team and you will be my number one recruit. I have my other "dream team" people in mind too, but alas, for now... I am retired.

Dudster (retired captain) has left the course.

Hood to Coast 2011

Greetings all!

Well, we managed yet another completed HTC. This was the 3rd year for Stumbo's Prayer Warrior to embark upon this adventure. It didn't come without many bumps in the road. Our roster changed more in the past 9 months than Erik w/a K changed his underpants. One change that I certainly can speak to is that I didn't get to run for the first HTC since 1999. I have been nursing a hamstring and it just didn't happen for me, but I captained the team and even rode along with the crazies in Van 2. Here are a few of the highlights:

- Erik brought granola again and offered it up quite often... AGAIN. It appeared to increase in volume as the race ensued, not sure what is in that stuff, but probably not the best diet food if it grows.

-Another repeat experience is that Erik's bag seemed to vomit repeatedly and parts of it could be found all over the van, another phenomenon that we can't explain. (Love you Erik, thanks for making me think of Trent, so I wasn't missing him so much)

- Kara, our loudest and most excited cheerer and most fun lady ever couldn't run this year, battling a souvenir she brought back from Egypt named "Perry site" nasty little guy. We missed you terribly Kara. Even in her absence, she was felt because she sent along her famous Energy Balls and it turns out our infantile van never tires of laughing when one of us says "balls". Awesome.

- Shannon brings a plethora of wipes that could probably stock the shelves of a Walgreens. We all partook of them and enjoyed them very much. We also learned that during a run she can stop, drop and poop in 10 seconds, impressive by any standards, wow, I must pause here for how impressive that is.

- And speaking of poop... Erik giving a poop pep talk through the Honey Bucket walls... epic. I am standing in line waiting my turn with about 5 people and this uproarious laughter erupts from the line of HB's. Someone comments "They're having fun", I sheepishly look at them and say "Those are my teammates, that's how we roll."

- Steve Unwin, Stallion, warrior, awesome teammate extraordinaire and can puke like nobody's business. Oh man, you rock dude! You are my hero. Side note, watching how you love to tease Erik is one of my favorite things too. So fun watching you two brothers.

- Jaque, our driver and resident mom of all. Thanks for all you did to help our team and for bringing your sister along to run, very cool. You two managed to smuggle a small grocery store of food aboard, not sure how you managed.

- Beeks! Our last minute sub and Rookie of the Year! Having just had an appendectomy like 3 weeks prior, Beeker was feeling this weird feeling where her appendix used to be, I named it the "Appendix Void". What a trooper, powered through the pain and ran like the wind and also was awesomely funny, W00t! You rock girl!

- Mandee, our tall girl ;o) rocked it. Even though her buddy Kara had to back out last minute, Mandee stepped right in to the weird bunch than made up Van 2 and cracked wise and ran well and even recovered from the fact that Beeks kept calling her Megan. Bah!

- In a series of unfortunate events we were bumping up against not being able to finish. There was talk along the last legs about course closure and we were watching the volunteers pick up garbage, we had a looming time of 8pm for our last runner to leave that exchange. We did some math and realized that it was going to take some tough running and creative captaining to pull this off. I shall evoke my 5th amendment rights here in case the HTC officials are reading this, but basically, Erik had to run this 8.12 mile last leg that changed since last year. It used to be a flat 7 1/2 mile leg and now it's arguably the hardest leg in the race. Horrible. Oh my. As we drove it and realized what poor Erik had agreed to, my stomach lurched, my heart hurt and I was thinking I would be permanently "defriended" by him. The one shining silver lining is that he looked stunning. He had grabbed the bright pink vest just because it already had a number on it. He borrowed Beeks' hand held water bottle and, oh yeah it happened to be bright pink and then he got up to the exchange and had forgot his headlamp, so Shannon let him have hers, you guessed it... PINK! He looked glorious. He killed it! Ran that horrible leg like a champ. He came in, handed off and proceeded to wretch his guts out, so freaking awesome! Made my captain heart so proud.

We made it! The announcer at the finish always says each team as they cross. When Shannon was spotted, he said "Team 105, Stumbo's Prayer Warriors, your runner is coming." We all excitedly assembled, ready to jog the last 100 meters with her. He looked at us and said "What's a Stumbo?" I don't recall what we said, but I remember thinking that I would love to sit down with that guy and tell him all about John Stumbo. Our van did tell John's story a few times. There was a volunteer at one exchange who was very interested in it. He took a magnet and was going to go and read his blog. We prayed, we talked about John, we laughed, we pooped, we groused some, we did it. Sigh.