A Treadmill, Chocolate, And Desperate Prayer For A Letter

I love my treadmill. We bought it about four years ago and it has been amazing. People look at me funny when I saw I went for a run late(r) in the evening after the kids have been put to bed, or early in the morning before they (or the sun) rise. But I love it.

And while the physical health aspect is really important to me, and the habit (in which I have immersed myself for the last 18 yrs) is nearly addictive, I have to say that is truthfully not why I got my money's worth out of this machine, in it's first year.

It's an outlet.

I recall the day of the bankruptcy. I remember running the anxiety, frustration, uncertainty out of my veins. The day of the restructuring. When all us - overwhelmingly - voted yes (!). I remember running out of joy that day. Not knowing what to do to contain the elation, I just ran. I remember the day we found out about the ban (region), the day we received our referral, the day we found out about the MOWA letter slow down. All of it has carried a constant theme: get the energy, anxiety, frustration, elation, exhaustion, anticipation...get it out. And during the running, the time alone down in our basement with the ear plugs in, the TV or iPod keeping me going, I'm praying. Always always praying. At times there's earnest grovelling. Other times you'd catch me laughing, sometimes crying.

We have two weeks during which our MOWA letter needs to be written and submitted to court to be signed off by the judge. I found out yesterday they are more than two weeks behind.

And so I went for a run yesterday morning. Because, while the thought (hope) of our MOWA letter coming before summer closures seemed less distant while we were in Ethiopia, I found (have been finding) myself very very uncertain.

And while I realize I have no control and I need to allow this part of faith (!) to take over, it's still very tough. And I'm still human. And now that I've met my baby, the thought of her remaining in institutionalized care (where she is very very loved, but institutionalized regardless) for another nearly two months, is a really big pill to swallow.

So yesterday morning I ran my heart out on the treadmill and prayed desperately, and hopefully, and faithfully, and confidently, and sought peace and comfort.

And then I ate a lot of chocolate.

Because I'm human. And female. And stressed. And that's a deadly combo.