Hazard yit Forvard

I’m on the plane, just past Greenland and about to enter Canadian airspace.

This morning I “stood on the balcony” with the British Royal Family.

I also danced in the ballroom of Buckingham Palace with my husband, the Buckeye.

He’s been pretty tired; he’s still very much in recovery from that brain bleed 9 months ago.

When we left EIGHTEEN DAYS ago(!!) we were tired, worn out and emotionally drained from the last year. The loss of his job the day he returned from our wedding, and his near death three months later with a long recovery had worn us out. Few marriages are tested this strenuously early on; we both left worried.

Finland assured us we had nothing to worry about. The spark is still very easily fanned into a flame!

We also reaped the rewards of our efforts to get in shape before our trip: while it may not have been my best, it was more than sufficient to have a very physically active honeymoon.  We averaged over 5 miles and 11 flights of stairs everyday in Europe, with only one showing of the Air Monster (in Edinburgh, after climbing eight flights of outside stairs in a pretty urban/polluted environment.)

We had loved Finland, and eagerly anticipated Scotland. Little did we know how deeply it would touch us.

Our touchdown in Aberdeen was likely the toughest of any landings I’ve ever had-in a crosswind with a short runway.

Kinda like our first year of marriage: Bam! You’re here!

Unlike our first year, however, we had an unexpected upgrade from Europcar!  Good lord this vehicle was SWWWWWWEEEEEET.

I had prearranged dinner at our BnB; we sank into a cozy Scottish kitchen and enjoyed lasagne and cobbler with a bottle of white wine. The Buckeye was struggling a bit: his stamina was starting to give earlier each day. I had known this was a possibility and planned accordingly-every day was flexible. We could add things if he felt up to it, but focused on only one main thing a day. 

Shirley’s back garden. If you ever go to Scotland, stay with Shirley in Peterculter!

Our first destination? Dunnottar Castle.  This ruin caught our fancy right after our engagement, and I even blogged about it.

What girl doesn’t want this wedding photo?!!!!?

I had discovered Dunnottar Castle when I researched Gregg’s Scottish roots. He’s actually a direct descendant of the earl marishal’s of Scotland, who BUILT THIS CASTLE. Like seriously, wickedly cool.

Or just Lovely😂😂😂

(The Buckeye says I say that too much now.  With an accent.)

As we had seriously discussed eloping, I was quite surprised when the Buckeye brought up eloping to Scotland, and having it at Dunnottar.  Neither of us knew the other was thinking Scotland, and never before had we talked about Dunnottar.  We had both discovered it separately, when googling the clan castle of the Keith’s.

Because of course we are both clan Keith. Seriously.

Back in February 2018, we very seriously considered a Scottish elopement to Dunnottar; we found out we needed a marriage visa, and we got together the costs. I called my lifelong BFF to make sure she had a passport to be my witness; he decided he’d pull a witness from a local pub😂😂 (I love this man so much-he makes me laugh, and that’s wonderful!)

But my house hadn’t sold, and everyone told us we needed to sell my house first. Like everyone.

And my daughter the Commander commanded us to not elope.

And as I added the costs of Scotland and saw them equal a small wedding in Prescott, I let the dreams of Dunnottar slide. The Buckeye let my unsold house take center stage, and refused to set a wedding date until it sold.

And the Dark Days began.

We had only fought once the entire time we dated, from that point on, we struggled. The house became a noose with each day it remained unsold, and eventually we set a date without a sale. The offer came within 48 hours of us doing so, and it did sell a month later. But I was worn out from the battle...of every month working to make the money to pay the mortgage and bills, spending time on my knees trusting God I’d be ok. The days apart were hard, and the stress was huge. In my mind, I’d lose the Buckeye if it didn’t sell; the increasing anxiety that I’d lose him made the road much tougher.  The sale, I thought,  would alleviate it; instead the rougher storms came right on its heels.

What if we had eloped? It’s a what if I try not to think about...but climbing the cliffs around Dunnottar I couldn’t help but think of the fact we had both separately had thought to elope there.

This day was my favorite day of our honeymoon.

For as I climbed and was overwhelmed by the beauty of the Scottish coast, the magnificence of the ruin and the windswept romance of a wedding there I felt the tears run down my cheeks.

This had been Plan A, God’s Very Best.

He had wanted this for us-this magnificent, over-the-top, so us, so wildly wonderful spot for us to say our vows. Both of us knew it, and neither of us listened.  Instead, we did the “wise” thing and waited for my house to sell.  

The joy we experienced here-it was immeasurable.

The tears were a humbled mix of joy, repentance, awe and regret. My Father God had wanted me to have this magnificent gift, and I had said no.  Grabbing the Buckeye’s hand, I shared my thoughts; he agreed.  He knew.  He admitted he knew then, too.  At that moment he prayed, asking God to forgive our lack of faith, and thanking Him for His faithfulness to us.

In Scotland, our faith was renewed.

These are the coat of arms and motto’s of Gregg’s great (9 times) grandparents.

The Keith clan motto is Veritas Vincit.

So I had a little bonding moment with my great-nine times-grandmother-in-law.

Though adversity we will move forward.

That’s what we are doing...may we find more joy in our future.

There’s many more honeymoon tales to be told, but none more important than this:

We will seek first God’s will for us, and walk by faith.

For we have had the rather rare glimpse of what we gave up, and know the pain of the harder road. Truth conquers, and we will move forward through adversity. 

And we will return.

How this place restored my very soul.

We have couple goals, entwined with personal goals...and Dunnottar represents them both. As we seek to do God’s will first, we are reminded that He always wants the best for us. When we do it our way, even if it seems wise, we forget His way is higher and better.

Even if it seems harder...that’s where faith comes in.

He bought a kilt for his next visit...😍

Our honeymoon reassured us we were a match, and that together we can do amazing things. Our delight in each other was only topped by the reminder that Not only will it be ok, but it can be amazing if we do what God has called us to do.

So we rewind.  Remember the last thing we knew we were to do, that we haven’t. Each of us has a different personal path-but one that leads us parallel to the same destination.  We found those paths again at Dunnottar. God is so good to show us as we wandered.  May our resolve and direction stay true, and we find ourselves again there someday soon.

Hazard yit Forvard.

Unexpected Rewards

We’ve been on our honeymoon for 10 days, with 8 more days to go.  Technically.

Although it started like this, sooo...

It’s funny what our expectations have been.  We thought we’d have a celebratory drink at Sky Harbor.

We did not.

Instead I yelled “Go Blue” when the gate agent said, “Hey, watch this” and yelled out two random letters to which everyone (but me, in the Michigan shirt) yelled back two more letters in a group attempt to spell a four letter word. (For those unfamiliar, Buckeyes can’t spell the name of their state without help. One says O-H and the other says I-O.)

Heh.  The state to which we travelled is a four letter word. 🤪

Anywise, the Buckeye was stressed. He’d planned an 80th surprise party for his mom the day after we got to Ohio, and he realized he was the weak link. If anyone was going to accidentally tell her, it would be him.

He needn’t have worried. It went perfectly, 45+ people showed up, including cousins who flew in. It was a wonderful way to meet the majority of the Buckeye’s family and friends!

So, I thought maybe after the party he would relax, but the next day we drive north to see my people.

My cousin and I both wore sparkly blue Kate Spades because we are the same people:)

My people. Ohhhhh how I’ve missed them! (Pam, how did we not get a photo together?!?)

We actually had a purpose in going to Michigan. While my brother, who is an ordained minister suggested it was because I’m a diva who needed a second wedding ceremony, it was really a chance to remember our vows. It’s been a super tough year.

Vows renewed, we headed to Cleveland.  That’s about 5-6hrs of driving that day alone.

With Swagger, the official Browns dog.

The next day, our actual anniversary, we met up with the Knight’s sister and her fiancé, and the Knight’s college roommate and his wife for breakfast.  Yes, my late husband’s people...and it was wonderful. On to the game with the Buckeye’s brother, sister-in-law and two of his friends, including the one who had packed his reserve when he had a cut away so long ago and had saved his life (just like me!)

Then the Browns lost, and we walked 6 miles and couldn’t seem to get a pizza delivered to our room with any speed.  The Buckeye was worn out, and I worried.

The next day, we drove back to Michigan...via State Route 2...and memories came flooding back of childhood trips to the area we both had taken. After lunch with my lifelong BFF we headed to my old home airport.  Where it took forever.

Boarding flight two at airport three...

And off we went to Finland.

We arrived at 2:30 the next day, and immediately began to explore.

Quite simply, he could not stop pinching himself.  

We wandered for hours, soaking in Helsinki.  Dinner of reindeer was a must do, and we walked back to the apartment exhausted. We had walked almost 6 miles.  The next morning, knowing rain was forecasted, we got up early and went to Suomenlinna, the island fortress.

It was then we knew.

We did almost 8 miles that day, between our island time, walking the city and trekking to a tattoo shop for the Buckeye to get a special piece of ink commemorating his Finnish heritage. The next day we flew north to Toholampi, where both of his great grandparents (his paternal grandmother’s parents) had been born and raised.

We spent almost two hours looking at graves in the church cemetery. 

That day we walked 6 miles again.

Back to Helsinki, and we had the joy of a photography tour of the city.

We could not stop laughing.

And the photos captured something we both had worried was lost.

We did another 8 miles that day, and climbed 18 flights of stairs (we had averaged 14 flights a day, which is not hard when your apartment is on the fourth floor and the elevator doesn’t work.)

I have never been more thankful for the exercise I had done prior before.  August had been simple discipline to go to the gym, to just show up.

Little did I know I was insuring a wonderful trip.

All the weeks of podcasts and “Building the Browns” episodes while on the arc trainer, which was so slow and tedious as my lungs built in strength, had prepared me for a wonderful honeymoon adventure in Finland.

I could walk miles without an asthma attack.  I could climb stairs without stopping. I had stamina to go, go, go.

Because while I watched “Building the Browns” I was actually building up me.  All the complaints, all the whining, all the choices to go against and give something (not often my best, but wait until my next blog) was the actual training my body needed to do exactly what it’s just done: walk an average of 6 miles a day without complaint.

Well, my feet do complain a little. I am 48, after all.

Finnish pastries. Despite the goodies, all of my pants are loose.

Our Finnish part of our honeymoon has come to a close; we are off to Scotland.  As we depart, I am delighted to have the reward of a health body that easily enjoyed Helsinki and all it had to offer.

Made possible by regular exercise, the entire month before.

Remember how dubious I was? 

Every bit of me is thankful now.

No, August wasn’t my best.  But I did it, consistently, and didn’t quit.  My reward has been a honeymoon I was able to fully enjoy...and it’s not over yet!  Furthermore, in all of this we have found something more: we really are a match.

We had both worried before we had left; about stamina, about us. It’s been so very hard, much harder than we’d let on.

Oh, it’s still very much there!

We rediscovered all the little things we loved about each other on these walls: long walks with long talks. No phones (expect for occasional navigation) and the ability to reconnect as we do desperately needed.  Yes, we really are meant to be.  Just as I strengthened my body beforehand, so now we are strengthening our hearts.

It really, truly, is going to be ok.

Not my very Best

The GPS said the reroute would only take 25 extra minutes.

It took an hour....on washboard roads.

I-17 was closed due to a brush fire, minutes before I was to get on it. As I suspected, there were dirt roads that could take me around it.

Which apparently semis decided they could take, too.

I’d always thought there were back routes around sections of the interstate, and recalled recent interstate shutdowns and wondered why state police hadn’t lead people off the highways on these roads to other major roads. (Still a good question!) My first ten miles I had no traffic; my last twenty I crawled with several hundred other vehicles.

The novelty wore off fast.

The scenery was stunning-I’d love to go Jeeping on this road someday-but the dust got monotonous, and the bumps irritating.  It had already been a super long day, and I was cooked.

Kinda like most days:  I’m completely worn out.

Special Olympic golf coaches, year three!

Don’t get me wrong. Life is getting better, but I can’t say that I’ve been giving it my very best.  I want to give it my very best, very much so.  In some areas, I truly am giving it my very best.

But overall?

Not so much.

Giup always gives it his very best, however.  Treats may be involved :)

In recent crisis, the motto to give it my very best *has* pulled me through some very tough spots. I honestly have given my very best to some top priority things, namely the Buckeye’s continued recovery.  Exercise and diet in my life, however, has NOT been one of them.  Instead, they are getting a very different set of rules.

Exercise is strangely becoming a routine.

This guy tags along about half the time.  Only half, not all.

I go to the gym at least once every three days, pretty much without fail.

Seriously.

I’m sticking to the the Arc Trainer, nothing else. 30-45 minutes.  Slowly increasing the level.  Burn about 200 calories a session.  That’s it.

This is not my very best.

My best would be a circuit through the weight machines, another training session with Brad and pushing myself to go longer and harder on the arc trainer.

Of course this is how I feel about that...!

In truth, I’m taking a very different approach to exercise:  I’m starting very slow, but very steady.

My first goal is to not have to use my inhaler.

I taped my gym ID to it so I wouldn’t forget to bring it.

This far. I’ve only used it on one visit-but it was a high pollution day., and early in the workout.  Given I’ve gone over a dozen times, I’m happy with my lungs.

I’ve also learned a huge secret about me and exercise.

YouTube.

Really truly.

I’m not a big fan of videos-everyone in my family will tell you I prefer to read. I rarely watch tv anymore.

But.

The Cleveland Browns

and

Safiya Nygaard

Have changed my life.

Seriously.

I put on one of their videos-and get on the arc trainer. There’s no gym noise. My focus is on something I thoroughly enjoy, not some mindless HGTV show or the local news.

And exercise is easy.

I caught myself looking forward to watching the next Building the Browns and ran to the gym to watch it.  226 calories later, I was pleasantly surprised in how fast the time had gone.  I genuinely hate exercise...but this?

It’s not my very best.

My lungs are not protesting.  My legs and arms do not fell like sore jello the next day, but I know I am getting stronger.  The scale says I’ll fit into jeans for my Hoodie Honeymoon.

And that’s just fine.

I think we stress ourselves out, feeling that in all things we must give our very best.  Yes, when it comes to the Buckeye, he needs that.  My business deserves that. But in somethings, it’s good to just have good habits!

Habitually exercising was never a thing I thought I could do, I dreaded it so much. Watching a video on making a Frankenstein Lipstick, however?! Guilty pleasure.

Add exercise and the guilt is removed. 😏

So for me, although I am months and years out from it being official, I may have found a way change my life for the better.

K-Pop makeovers and football preseason videos.

And lazy Sundays after a workout with the Buckeye and the cat and the dog all piled on the couch.

So it seems my sidetrack into a gym (which I hate) and the realization that not every area of my life has to be my very best (only the most important areas) is slowly paying off.

Well, for certain my lungs and heart are much healthier.

And that gives me hope.

Hope that I’m on the right path, even though it’s very different from the ones I’ve tried before.

“Hike like a Granny” I used to say.  Thinking that was the right path all along....slow and steady.

It’s not my very best. But in this case, it’s the best it can be!

Who is the Coach?

Since August 1st, I’ve attempted to do a workout every other day.

Birthdays, however, do not count.

In total, I’ve done 6 in 15 days. I’ll go later today, so I’m not too far off track.

Thank God it’s football preseason, and I finally have an NFL team.

So it’s not been easy making this a habit, given my hatred of exercise and exercise-induced asthma I’m trying to keep at bay. Add in an indulgent birthday lunch and dinner, and you might think I’d be way off track.  Especially when I really hate gyms.

Because Rejection.

It started in gym class in elementary school, and never let up. When you’re the last kid chosen, every time, it hurts your psyche.  I could run really fast for 10 seconds, but nothing beyond that. I have little natural coordination, due to my left-eye dominance but right-handedness and lack of good depth perception. Now I know my “I need a drink of water” was actually exercise-induced asthma. 

As an adult, the lack of coordination meant I failed at aerobics class, step class, and more recently, Zumba. It also meant I looked like a fool, which didn’t do wonders for anything.

Hiking, biking and swimming have always been the only sports I’ve loved, in part due to the solitary nature. So the gym, now, is hard. People are there who won’t talk to me unless they are paid to. You know some of them are judgey and they’re secretly judging you (although this point actually doesn’t bug me!) I also rarely experience “feeling better” after exercise; my body does not reward me with endorphins for my efforts.

Thankfully this is also there!!! Go Browns!!

So, I’m unfit and have excuses not to go to the gym.  But I’m going.

My third trip to the gym I begged the Buckeye to go. Begged.  Pleaded. I wanted a cheerleader, and as my husband he seemed the logical choice. He refused, clinging to his outdoor hikes. With so many things denied to him since his accident, it’s the one thing he insists on. I can’t join him due my asthma flaring hard over 100 degrees, and the dust and pollution doesn’t help.

I taped my gym ID card to my inhaler so I won’t forget it. 

So he wouldn’t go, I was poopy about it and whined a lot. I also inwardly whined a lot about church that night, as I felt the same way there that I did at the gym:

I’m supposed to go. I know it’s good for me. People there, however, are potentially judgey and judging me. No one is talking to me unless they are paid.  Just like exercise.

Our pretty little mid-century Spanish revival church. In truth, the people have been very welcoming and friendly, it’s me who has the issues. The preaching is excellent, and always thought-provoking.

Thought-provoking.  Another thing exercise and church have in common, but in this instance, a good thing.

As of late, I have been listening to podcasts or even watching YouTube videos at the gym. It takes my mind off my body struggling, and makes better use of my time. I admit, filling my head with Browns preseason stats may be questionable as a better use of my time, but at least I’m learning something new, as I’ve never followed the NFL before, and I’m still learning the Browns history. 

Apparently it’s not pretty, just like my history with exercise 😂😂

So as I struggle with exercise, and admit I struggle with church for many of the same reasons, I find I look more and more to the Buckeye as my cheerleader or coach. He knows what’s good for me, and as my partner, he’ll lead me down the right path in these two areas I struggle with, yes?

I love this clip from Facing the Giants. The coach encouraging his QB, and the resulting accomplishment is inspiring:

It actually came up in my Facebook memories this month, and I watched it wistfully, wishing the Buckeye would encourage me like the coach did.

And then I watched it again.

And listened carefully to what the coach said to Brock.

He asked if he’d already accepted defeat, before a game was played.

He then asked for his absolute best, and blindfolded him.

With his trust only in his coach, the kid set out to do his best...and did five times as much as he had done before.

And at the end, the Coach pointed out Brock wasn’t using his God-given talents by giving up before a game.

I watched it again...listening to what the Coach said...and realized that as much as I wanted the Buckeye to be my coach, that was wrong of me.

God is my head coach.

It’s really tough lately.

I’m not talking about exercise or church, I’m talking about life.  

Both the Buckeye and I are worn down, the past year taking a toll on both of us in different ways.  It’s been very hard, for many different reasons.  He’s not yet back to 100%, and yet circumstances demand more.  I’m trying my best to support him through his recovery, but my own challenges I ultimately face on my own.

Blonde highlights. No lavender, rose gold, neon orange/yellow/lime green, no forest green or sapphire hair to be seen.  Sigh.

As I face the challenges, I know I’m not strong enough. I know my body is weak and my soul is worn out. For much of this year, I was defeated before I even played the game.  I longed for a coach, a cheerleader, a partner.

“Don’t quit until you got nothing left.”

“It hurts.”

Yes, it hurts.  It’s hurt for so many years. So many years of being an optimistic that things will get better. So many years of driving only to be shut down by people and circumstances out of your control. So many years of disappointment. So much pain of being rejected, over and over.

And yet, have I given it my best?

No, I haven’t. I’ve walked around defeated since 2008, when my sister committed suicide, my best friend betrayed me and turned a church against me. It was then the King withdrew, and our downward spiral began. In this mess I tried to keep swimming, tried to rescue my children.  While I’ve seen flickers of the success I once was, I’ve walked into every game defeated. The occasional wins are hard, drawn out battles, that sap what little strength I have. To give my best would mean it might hurt more, that I might get hurt worse than I already am. People are not to be trusted, and yet I’ve long for a coach to pull along side.

What I’ve needed was already sustaining me...I just hadn’t thought to look to God as my cheerleader and coach before.

Right now, He’s calling on me to do my very best. Circumstances that trigger fear and the desire to flee are surrounding me; circumstances that I barely survived years ago. Last night I was overcome with worry after the Buckeye had fallen asleep, as I tried to stifle tears I couldn’t help but think of this death crawl scene.

I’m carrying a great weight: a good weight, one I’m proud to carry. I love my husband, my children and my business. Right now, circumstances are piled on top of all of us; it’s this extra weight that hurts.  If God is my coach, and I’m blindfolded but trusting in Him this I know:

If I fall, He’ll pick me up. I am never not safe.

But if I trust Him and dig deep, if I negotiate with my body for more strength, if I give it my very best, if I don’t quit, if I put my heart into it...where can I carry my weight to? What circumstances will be shed as I push through? What can I inspire in others? What successes are just yards away?

“God gifted you with the ability of leadership. Don’t waste it.”

I feel as if I have wasted too much. 

I once lead a team to $42 million in sales, with a product that averaged $25 in value. Ahead of me right now is a campaign I created, that I know has all the earmarks of success. I know my market, my pricing, my customer. I have spent three years investing in it. I know what to do.

“It hurts.”

All the weight of the world seems added to my shoulders, and the tears that flow too easily are proof. And yet, last night...

“I know it hurts! You keep going! You keep going!

Its all heart from here!

Thrity more steps! You keep going!

Come on! Keep going!”

Me: It burns!

“Let it burn! Its all heart! You keep going! Come on! Come on! Keep going! You promise me your best! Your best! Don’t stop! Keep going!”

Me: Too hard!

“Its not too hard! You keep going! Come on!

Give me more! Give me more! Keep going!

Twenty more steps! Twenty more steps!

Keep going, give me your best!

Don’t quit! No!

Keep going! Keep going! Keep going!

Don’t quit! Don’t quit! Don’t quit!

You don’t quit!”

I’m not in the end zone yet.  My weight is still upon me.  But last night I heard my coach, and I was reminded to cast my cares on Him.  I was reminded that His Grace is sufficient for me. I was reminded that Love never fails. I was reminded I can chose to be patience, kind and long suffering.  I was reminded I haven’t given my best in a very long time...and perhaps it was time to put on a blindfold and give my best, knowing God was my coach, my cheerleader, and the one who held me in safety.

My Buckeye.  I am blessed beyond measure to have him by my side. 

Yesterday I did go to the gym, for my seventh workout in fifteen days.  The Buckeye went with me, and took up on the treadmill next to me. I was delighted to see that without consulting one another, our speed and incline rates were the same; truly we are a well-matched team.  He conceded that the workout in air conditioning was pleasant, and recanted on his earlier declarations that he wouldn’t work out with me there.  It seems my leadership in going every other day has inspired him to be better as well....

My heart is so full of love for him ❤️


My crawl is far from over, and I don’t know where the end zone is. I hadn’t been giving it my best; I’d just tried to survive. I’m seeing now that I have a choice: it’s my choice to listen to my coach whom I’ve ignored due to my leeriness of people in the church. It’s my choice to build myself up spiritually, as I’ve started to do with my body. It’s my choice to overcome my past failures to succeed with new adventures today.  No, I’m not at the end zone. But my inability to move must end or I’ll never make it.  Yes, my spirit is unfit, just like my body. I have excuses not to go to church and not to study God’s word, but that doesn’t matter. Like my body, I need to start conditioning my spirit and soul...whether people reject me or not. Now that I can hear my coach over all of the din, something has changed.

Yes, it still hurts. Yes, it’s too much.

Just don’t quit.

Sent to me at exactly the right moment by a friend-my coach works through people, too. 

This time, I’m determined to give my best. I’m trusting God the well-timed help will come just when I need it. But for now-I need to do what I know to do.

Not quit.