Operation Spiritual Airlift

Wanna see what happens when eight women from across the country get together to make one very special woman smile?

Operation Spiritual Airlift from Heather King on Vimeo.

I couldn’t be more thrilled to join Maggie, Heather, Lisa, Jessica, Lee, Ann, and Eileen in this awesome project.

Special thanks to Heather for getting middle aged white women to lip synch and rap, and to Lee and her husband making us look professional.  Or just pretty.  Or for putting it all together.

And last but not least, to my videographer Ben who saved Ann and I from trying to do this ourselves.

I dare you to only watch this once…

The “After” Of Almost Dying

Tuesday night, after The Incident, I thought I deserved a night with my couch and DVR. I did nothing but cuddle up with Ben and watch “Intervention”. Because nothing says “I love you, Son” more than watching a young woman inject herself with crystal meth.

I couldn’t get the thought out of my mind that I was in my warm home, safe with my family instead of a hospital bed. You might be thinking, shut up and get over this already but if you were in that car with me, you’d be high fiving me for staying out of the fetal position under the covers while sucking my thumb.

By Wednesday evening I was more than ready for Yoga. Thinking, stupidly, that it would do wonders for my still tense muscles.

There were only three of us in class so while we were waiting to see if more showed up we talked about the storm the day before. Me being me and having the disease I Have To Share Everything-idious, I told them about my spin out.

Everyone gasped and then the woman next to me, who I’ve never seen in class before, looked me straight in the eyes with the most serious look and said, “Someone is looking out for you. You have a higher purpose in this life and you better figure out what that is.”

And with that let’s start some belly breathing!

Her words hit me like a Mac truck. I felt sad and grateful all at the same time. I got my B.A. in Denial which meant that I had ignored the emotional aspect of Tuesday morning successfully until 6:30pm Wednesday night at the Y while doing downward dog.

I finally took my head out of the sand.

The fact that the YMCA is literally right off the beltline with windows in the yoga studio facing it didn’t help the, “I’mfineI’mfineShutupdon’ttalkaboutitI’mfine” thing I had going on.

If the class was bigger I would have left. But since I was a third of the population I stayed and pretended I was really into each pose with my eyes closed to keep from crying.

My muscles were screaming all through class. Instead of helping, doing poses like fish made my neck begin an Occupy Becky’s Body movement.

Somehow I made it through but by the end of class when we do our final relaxation, corpse pose, (p.s. I’m super good at this pose) I realized how tense I really was. I couldn’t let go of any muscle. As I laid there I realized my cheeks were wet with tears.

Tuesday morning was awful and terrifying. But I made it. I’m not sure that I have a higher purpose in this life other than winning the award for owning the most black cardigans from Old Navy, and I don’t think I need to figure that out or even own that. It’s too much. And seriously, maybe it was all just dumb luck.

Regardless, I’ll just be grateful all is well and enjoy my massage tomorrow afternoon that much more.

a near miss

It was snowing when I woke today.

A heavy wet snow as it was in the 40′s yesterday.

I didn’t pay any attention other than choosing to take the SUV with four wheel drive over the Pontiac Vibe.

It was Tuesday which meant before I go to work I drop off Eddie at doggie daycare which is out of my way and involves taking the one highway in Madison.

Normally Eddie bounds out of the house as Tuesdays and Thursdays are his favorite. This morning, however, he wouldn’t go. I thought it was the snow that was freaking him out even though this wasn’t our first snow of the season. He was so stubborn I had to put on his leash and almost pull him to the car.

Our trip out to The Dog Den was uneventful and slow. It was definitely slippery but as a veteran and conqueror of all things snow I thought nothing of it.

I dropped him off and headed back onto the Beltline on my way to work. Again, traffic was busy, almost bumper to bumper, as it was shortly after 8 am. Everyone was going slow; maybe around 30 mph.

There were three lanes of traffic. I was in the far left lane when I decided to move to the middle lane.

I still don’t know what happened but as I began to veer right, the car took on a life of it’s own and slid while doing a slow spin through all lanes of traffic. I remember heading towards a pole on the shoulder and thinking, “I’m in a dream. I won’t hit anything because I’m in a dream.” (I often have nightmares about being in a car accident. This won’t make them worse. No, not at all.)

My car finally stopped spinning and sliding on the right hand shoulder, perpendicular to traffic.

I stopped breathing.

I hadn’t hit anything. I was OK. How was that possible!?!? There was a steady stream of cars and I went through two lanes of traffic! How did I not hit anybody or even that pole?

A woman drove by and looked over at me while giving me a questioning thumbs up as if to say, “Holy Sh*t! Are you OK?” I nodded as she kept going.

Through no strength of my own, I straighten the car out, stepped on the gas and drove off.

Shaking uncontrollably.

Recently with the Denver Broncos in the playoffs and their quarterback Tim Tebowe in the limelight, I’ve been very judgmental of him and his beliefs. “There’s no religion in football. Keep it off the field!” I touted.

My annoyance to him had my atheist side blossoming. I was condescending and criticizing to every Tebowe fan. In some weird way almost taking it personally. I even put a snarky comment on Facebook about, “Jesus being on vacation” after the Denver loss Saturday night.

I got to work in one piece, (still slipping a few times but on a residential street where no one is around, who cares) called Matt and then proceeded to quietly freak out as what happened minutes before sunk in.

My arms felt like I had been in a boxing match for eight hours. My neck, well my neck was (and still is) so tight I can’t adequately turn my head.

I kept replaying it over and over in my head while thinking, “How did I not hit anybody. How? It’s not possible? How did I not cause a bigger accident?”

Do I think Jesus saved me?  No, (I am still Jewish after all…) but do I think it was just pure luck?  No.  I don’t.  What I do know is that I’m backing off Mr. Tebowe and his supporters. He and others can “Tebowe” all day long.  Please, be my guest.

I’m still not a fan of organized religion (for my own very personal reasons), but a higher power? Raise your hand if your Sure.

How else can you please explain how I crossed two lanes of traffic on a highway(!) during the morning rush hour on ice laden streets and didn’t hurt myself, my car or others.

Just 24 hours previous I was making pancakes for Ben and his BFF after their sleepover. The sun was shining in, the boys were gobbling up my pancakes, the dog was leaving them alone and I had one of those moments where I felt so happy. So content. But as I’m wont to do, I immediately thought, “I hope this isn’t the before part of a Hallmark movie where the next day my world comes crashing down…”

I could have died this morning. Or been seriously injured. Or totaled my car. Instead I sailed through it all save for some sore muscles and raw nerves.

I can’t believe that was simply luck.

I don’t know what it was but I do know my days of judging anyone for their beliefs and looking for trouble in my life are over.

This might be PTSD and maybe in a few weeks I’ll look back on this post and shake my head.

But as for right now, I firmly believe that something or someone got my attention this morning. And now I’m all ears.

monday morning

Matt is gone long before I wake.

When the alarm sings, I hit snooze through sleep. Soon after the giant puppy leaps into our bed. Something that’s not allowed with Matt there. As he snuggles in, the boy, as if on cue, makes his way into the bed as well. All three of us huddle close until my bladder and time ticking break the spell.

I get ready as Ben dresses, lets the dog out and has his breakfast in his young hurried way.

Stop. I’m not ready for this morning.

With the dog back inside, my boy shouts, “Bye Mom!!” and just like that, we’re down to one.

I send a inside joke text to my husband from the weekend prior.

Don’t forget about me out there in the world.

I finish making myself presentable enough as Eddie lays in the hall outside the bathroom and gives me the quintessential puppy eyes. He understands.

Don’t leave. Please. You’re going to go like the other guys aren’t you?  Don’t leave.

I think of yesterday; my favorite day of the week.

Sunday paper, CBS Sunday morning, coffee, dog park, laundry, reading by the fire, baking, naps, a warm dinner, Amazing Race… doing the whole day together.

Nine short hours later it’s just me and the dog.

I feel sad.

Not because of work but because it will be a full week before I see my boys again. What with indoor soccer, homework, my workout schedule, the busyness of the week, it won’t be until Friday night before we breathe and look at each other again.

The puppy follows me from the bathroom, to the bedroom and sneezes as I spray perfume.

Follows me back to the bathroom, then the kitchen and watches as I make my lunch and get coffee.

His eyes continue to plead.

Not today. Isn’t it a stay home day?

He follows me downstairs to his spot in the mudroom, to sleep and wait for his people to return.

As if on autopilot I’m out the door, like the rest of my family, on Monday morning.