The Vice

One of my summer rituals is going to the gyno for my yearly check-up, and then following up with a mammogram. About a month ago, the day had finally arrived for the annual event. There are so many things to worry about on this day. What do I wear that is easy to get on and off? I almost wore a dress, but then realized I would be unnecessarily naked for my mammogram. Shorts – I need shorts. What shoes should I wear so my feet don’t stink. Seriously, that’s a thing. How long will I have to sit there covered only by a sheet before the doctor wanders in?

I won’t go into the details about the gyno visit because that’s just gross. Who really wants to hear about the stirrups, rubber gloves, and the cold, metal devices? I will only say that when I am in that very humiliating position, I always wonder what makes someone choose to become a gyno? As my doctor is examining me, I am suspiciously  looking at him thinking What kind of person are you to want to do this every day?

Next, it is time to go across the road for my mammogram. Since many of you haven’t experienced this, I thought you should know what it’s like. First of all, I am certain that as a petite person, my experience varies from that of a  normal-sized woman. This particular breast center has tried to create a spa-like atmosphere, and I appreciate the soothing colors, comfy furniture, and trickling fountains. Once we are called back, we are ushered into a nice dressing room to undress from the waist up and put on a pink, fluffy robe. No paper vests here. We then move on to the “Robe Room.” It’s quite nice really. All of us just sitting around in our pink fluffy robes looking through out-dated magazines.. Occasionally I say a little prayer that everyone has secured their robes so nothing falls out.

And then I hear my name. The mammo lady guides me back to the semi-dark room with the imposing machine, the vice if you will. It is about to get real. She maneuvers me up to the vice, asks me to take one arm out of the robe, and proceeds to manhandle me. Seriously, her arms are everywhere; I don’t know how to stand because it’s awkward as hell; and she is trying to get my little boob in that vice. This is tricky. Mammo lady begins, “Turn your toes that way, but your shoulders this way, put your chin up, and your arm over there.” What? And I am petite. This is no lie, in order to get the required goods into that vice, I swear she pulls skin from my belly and neck. My entire midsection is trapped in that damn vice. And then she begins cranking it closed. Tighter and tighter it pulls all my skin. It is so tight my knees no longer sag. Then she looks me in the eye, gives me a little smile, and gives one more turn. Crap! I am now hanging from this machine by my boob. I am certain the vice is cutting off circulation, and soon my boob will fall off.

She casually walks over to her computer area as I am on my tippy toes trying not to fall because, really, if I did fall, I’d rip my boob off. And then she says, “When I count to three, stop breathing until I tell you you can breathe again.” Shit. I stopped breathing five minutes ago. I have one arm on top of the machine, the other dangling at my side, I am twisted up like a contortionist, and now I have to continue to hold my breath.

The machine begins to make a whirring noise. It oh so slowly makes a revolution while capturing pictures of my neck and belly skin. My neck is pulled so tightly I begin to feel like I am suffocating. And then she says to relax. Sure. Relax. Until you grab up all the skin from the other side. She releases me, and starts over on the left side. One would think I’d have it down by now, but it is no better. The arms. The toes. The neck skin. The twisting and turning and smashing. This is not the spa experience they make it appear to be. This is a medieval torture device. It’s 2017; there has to be a better way.

Mammo lady finally gets the left side of my body into her vice. Crank. Crank. And just one more…crank. I am now secured in the machine, again on my tippy toes. Deep breaths; now hold my breath. I can do this. I’ve survived childbirth three times, and the teenage years with three daughters. I can survive this machine. Just hang on to that machine, keep my balance, and do not think about all the skin clamped in. And…we’re done. Mammo lady releases me, and although smashed, everything appears to be in place. My skin slowly begins to return to its intended position as I do neck stretches and arm circles. Until next year, Mammo Lady!

Early detection is so very important in the fight against breast cancer. Men and young people, though necessary, mammograms are not something the women in your lives look forward to. To make it more pleasant, you could have chocolate and wine waiting for us upon our return. And, husbands, please keep your hands to yourselves on mammo day.

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Half Marathon #12 Training

In eight days I will be running my 12th half marathon. The Indy 500 Mini Marathon has been on my bucket list for a few years, but it usually falls the same weekend we take our eighth graders to Washington, DC. This year our trip is the week after the mini, so my daughter Bethany and I signed up. We actually signed up when we were at the expo for the Monumental Half Marathon in November. Bethany was a little freaked out that she signed up for her second half marathon before she’d run her first. But hey, we got $5 off and a free tech shirt, so how could we go wrong?

Bethany and I have been training for a couple months. Now that I am 50, I’ve found my long runs just keep getting slower. However, last weekend we ran our longest run of 11 miles, and our pace was a respectable 10:35 (respectable for me, but maybe not for Bethany). Sunday I ran five miles with my fast friends. They make running look so effortless while I am about 15 feet behind struggling to breathe. They were chatting away, and would occasionally ask me a question, but I had no idea what they were even talking about. So why do I run with them? Because I love them, and because it pushes me. Sometimes I get comfortable just getting my miles in, but I don’t really push myself out of that comfort zone. If I want to run well, I have to be willing to be uncomfortable. We ran those five miles at a 9:45 pace, which at this point is super fast for me. Jennifer had already run five miles, and then added another 3.1 after our five…at an 8:15 pace. Geez.

Fast. Something I’ve never been, nor will I ever be. When I talk to my eighth graders about my running, they don’t get that concept. When I told them I was running the Indy Mini, some asked if I thought I would win. Sure, Kids. I’m confident that out of the 30-35,000 runners, I will win. I told them that really isn’t the goal of most runners. But it’s a race. Why would you enter a race if you don’t think you can win, Mrs. Stath? I tried to explain the age groups, and how my goal is usually to place in the top 20% of my age group. But why would you run over 13 miles for that? Ummm…because we get really cool medals and a shirt. I guess from a 13 year old’s perspective, the fact that a 50 year old teacher would run 13.1 miles to get a medal doesn’t make much sense. It made me ask myself why I really do it.

There are so many reasons to run a half marathon. First, there is no other feeling like crossing that finish line, knowing I did something that not many people do. I have done the work – and it is work – and accomplished my goal. Running it with my daughter? That is a pleasure that not many moms get to experience. Running this distance has been life-changing for me. I didn’t begin running until I was 42, and I ran my first half almost seven years ago at 43. I never dreamed I could run 13 miles; I thought it was silly to even want to run for over two hours. But I did it. It taught me that even as a middle-aged mom and grandmother, I could still meet new challenges. It gave me confidence to take risks. I love the camaraderie of the running community. When we go to Indianapolis next weekend, I will enjoy being surrounded by other runners at the hotel, expo, and restaurants. There’s just a different type of energy in the air.

Running long distance doesn’t come without sacrifice and sometimes discomfort. My hip began hurting a couple weeks ago. It was fine when I ran, but hurt after. It is better after a couple trips to the chiropractor, and I have three more appointments scheduled for next week, including one right before we leave for Indy. Runners also sacrifice time. Long runs take time away from family, not only during the run itself, but when I am crashed on the couch afterward. Thankfully my husband is supportive since he was also a runner. Knowing he will be there when I finish makes me look forward to the finish line even more.

Bethany, thank you for taking time to train with me and to commit to this race. There really is something special about pounding the pavement with you. I am so incredibly proud of you. Let’s rock this race! Do you think we can win?

Half Marathon #10

On November 5 I will run my tenth half marathon, the Indianapolis Monumental Half Marathon. It’s been two years since I ran an entire 13.1 miles; the last three I worked some walking in for various reasons. I need to know I can still run the whole route – that my knee can endure 13.1 miles of pounding.

However, accomplishing that goal is not the most important aspect of the race. This race is special because I will be running it with my daughter Bethany. She began running in January of this year, and has since run a couple 5Ks and a 5-miler. She decided this summer that she was ready to take on the challenge of running her first half marathon, and I agreed to train and run with her. When Gary and I began running almost eight years ago, our hope was that we would be a positive example for our kids and grandkids. We wanted to show them that it is never too late to live a healthier lifestyle; it is never too late to set and achieve goals. Since that time, all of the girls have worked fitness into their lives. Gary’s daughter Tamara and her girls have participated in Girls on the Run; Morgan has run a few races and was recently certified to teach yoga; and the youngest, Addie, has now begun running and hopes to work up to a half marathon. Gary’s son Bryce has always been active. He and his wife run, ski, and climb. I don’t know how much we have influenced our children’s choices, but I hope we’ve had at least a little impact.

bethanymom

Training for this race has been interesting. I haven’t worked as hard as I should. It stayed hot so long that my runs suffered. Our long runs have been slower than I would like, but we’ve kept running. This past Saturday we ran 11 miles, our longest training run. It went better than our previous long runs, and I feel that Bethany is ready for this race and will run well. I feel that I had better quit eating junk for the next two weeks and increase my water intake or I’m going to struggle. No matter what, I wouldn’t trade these past weeks of sharing this experience with my daughter. I cannot wait for her to experience crossing that finish line because I know it can be life-changing. I know she will gain a confidence she’s never experienced. I know she will feel a sense of pride that is unlike any other. I know she’ll want to sign up for another!

I have had the unique pleasure of running two of my nieces’ first half marathons with them, and felt so blessed that they wanted to share that time with me. After running a couple 5Ks and a 10K together, Erin and I ran the Monumental two years ago – it was 15 degrees that day. Emily and I ran the Hoosier Half Marathon in Bloomington. Despite being held April 9, it was 20 degrees at the start, and it did not warm up (I won’t even get into the hills). Now I have the honor of running 13.1 with Bethany, which I hope will take place on a perfect 55 degree day. There is something special about running a longer race with someone. If you run, you know that some of the best, most honest conversations take place when we are drenched in sweat, our muscles are aching, and yet we carry on…together.

I’ve written before that sometimes a race is about so much more than a PR or personal goals. My best runs have been when I’ve run for a greater cause, whether it was to help someone complete her first half, or to raise money and awareness for St. Jude. The medals earned represent time spent training and sharing in a common goal. The medals represent not giving up, even when it hurts. They represent achieving something that a few years ago seemed impossible.

Bethany, I am so proud of you! You’ve accomplished so much this year, and it is truly my honor to run with you. I pray for clear skies, perfect temps, strong legs, and settled bellies. Heck, maybe someday you, Morgan, Addie, and I can run one together. That would really be a miracle! Let’s eat healthy foods the next two weeks, okay? Good Luck, Bethany! Thank you for allowing me to be your running partner. Thank you for loving yourself enough to take on such a monumental challenge. Now go #BeMonumental!

100 Days..Done!

Back in May, Runner’s World issued a challenge to run every day from Memorial Day to the Fourth of July, which would be 40 days. The only stipulation was we had to run at least one mile each of those days. I decided I needed some motivation, so I took that 40 Day Running Streak Challenge. I found it to be very motivating, while at the same time rather challenging. The first two weeks my legs screamed that they were tired; they were used to a couple of rest days per week. After those first two weeks, I began to settle in, and my legs began to relent and accept that I was not going to bail on this challenge. 

By the end of the 40 days, I felt that I had accomplished a huge goal. In five years of running, I had never run more than seven or eight days in a row. I felt great, and I wanted others to have that same feeling of pride in knowing they could do something they might not have thought possible (or even wanted to attempt). I didn’t want to limit the 40 days to running, so I put out my own 40 Days of Fitness Challenge. It began the last day of my original challenge, so if I went one day past everyone else, I would have completed 80 days of running. Wow! Once I got to 80 days, I could have stopped. Then I thought 100 is really a nice round number. I bet I could run 100 days straight, which would really be an accomplishment. And so I did. 

Since school began, it hasn’t been as easy to work those runs in. I had gotten so far, that I wasn’t about to make excuses at that point. I also felt like my running had improved, and with some important races on the horizon, I wanted to continue to build my speed and endurance. There were days that my run consisted of a one-mile run with the dogs on our gravel road, but even those runs proved to be enjoyable. Well, they were enjoyable after the first tenth of a mile; that’s when the dogs were all excited about going on a run and they jumped all over me while howling. I’m sure it’s quite a sight! My long runs have been only five or six miles. Without having a true rest day, my legs wear out rather quickly. Now that I will be taking rest days, I am anxious to see if my long runs are easier. I’m running a 10K in Chicago in a few weeks, so that’ll be the true test of what the past 100 days have done for me. 

Today was my 100th day. I planned to run with my friend Debbie this morning because my daughter had a golf match after school. I didn’t even look outside when I got up, so I was surprised to see lightning and feel the brisk wind as I dragged my butt to the car before dawn. Once Debbie and I arrived at the gym and checked out the radar, we decided it would be in our best interest to stick to the treadmills. I guess I’ve been pretty fortunate that in the previous 99 days, I only had to rely upon the treadmill one time, but I certainly didn’t want my defining run to be indoors. Thankfully, we only had to run three miles because I really can’t run on a treadmill much further than that. When I completed my run, I felt that I should’ve earned a medal or some kind of bling. I did something I’d never done before, or even considered for that matter, and there was no finish line, no medal, no shirt, no crowds cheering my through the finish line. Nothing. Just the feeling of accomplishment that comes with meeting a self-imposed goal. I’ll take it! 

I will likely run tomorrow, making my streak 101 days, but that’s only because I teach an early class, and always run after that class. I plan to take a break from running Thursday and Friday, and then go for a long run Saturday morning. Admittedly, it will be difficult to not run. It has become part of my day, and I feel the need to figure out just when I can work a run in. I will abstain, however, because I want to run well in Chicago. It might be the only time I ever run a race in my favorite city; I don’t want to blow it. I am also running that race with my fast-running niece, and I don’t want to be the pitifully slow aunt. 

 

Every once in awhile…

…I have one of those runs. It isn’t particularly fast or incredibly long, rather it makes me appreciate my body’s ability to just get outside and run. Today I set out to run six miles. While that typically isn’t a big deal, today was also my 49th day straight of running, and I had run hard at a 5k yesterday, so my legs were tired. I haven’t run six miles since I embarked on this summer running streak; I wasn’t sure I could do it.

I should have gotten up at dawn and taken off before the Southern Indiana humidity engulfed the streets making it difficult to breathe. I didn’t. I slept in, which these days means I was in bed until 7:15 (that’s my momma coming out). I was in town by 8:00 ready to run. Because I had run a race yesterday, and I actually ran kind of fast (8:55 pace), I didn’t plan to worry about my pace today. I just wanted the mileage. I put on my running playlist, hit the Runkeeper app, and took off. Usually my first mile sucks. This morning, it wasn’t too bad. I kept a slower pace, embraced the sunshine, and tried to get lost in my thoughts.

I made it through to the four mile mark without incident, and found myself at the entrance to the river greenway. I decided to run down the greenway and back because that would be my last two miles, and I could walk back to my car, which was about 3/4 mile away. One mistake I had made was not taking water. Usually if I go for a longer run on a hot day, I take a bottle along, but this morning I didn’t even think about it. There is a fountain at the end of the greenway, so I stopped for a quick drink before finishing the last mile. The last mile. That’s when I had that running moment that I value so very much. 

As I was running along the greenway with the Mighty Ohio River on my left, I looked down at the boat ramp. There were two men fishing, and they had a dog with them. The dog was playing in the water, right at the river’s edge. I don’t know why, but it was just a beautiful moment. I then looked out at the vast river, and was reminded of how fortunate we are to live in such a quaint community along this beautiful body of water. I run along the river so often that I take it for granted. As I continued to run, I noticed large birds gliding above, and a small bird perched atop the floodwall. I thanked God for putting these beautiful creatures along my path. A little further along, I peered out toward the river, and there was a barge making it’s way upriver. An American flag held its position on top of the tugboat. The barge truly is a symbol of an American way of life, and I was taken by its simple beauty and strength. After a short distance, I had finished my six miles. The last mile was my favorite, reminding me why I love running. 

Running makes me not only appreciate my health and determination, but also my surroundings. We all live such busy lives, and are always worried about getting to our destinations, whether it’s a kids’ baseball game, band competition, practice, work, the grocery store…you get the idea. We don’t even notice the uniqueness of our own neighborhoods or towns. When I run, I notice. I see homes being remodeled, kids playing with friends, animals dodging traffic, and the beauty of the moment. We always make it a point to run when we are on vacation or away for work. It is the best way to ‘tour’ a new place because I have time to take notice of more than when we drive by. I have run in Chicago, Virginia Beach, Lake Tahoe, Las Vegas, and Indianapolis, to name a few. I can’t really say which was my favorite because each holds special memories and unique qualities. 

Get out and explore. Notice the beauty around you and appreciate the little things like lovely trees, small critters, and laughing children. You don’t have to run; just go for a walk or ride your bike. Maybe you’ll have that special moment, too. 

Peace…

Just Three Years

The other night my husband and I were sitting at a baseball game with our friend Jeff. His son, Sam, just completed his freshman year of high school, and I commented about how quickly time is going. Later, I thought about how Sam will graduate in just three years. Because my mind is often filled with crazy random thoughts that spin out of control, Sam’s future graduation led me to think about all the changes that would occur in the next three years, and how those years will pass so very quickly.

In just three years…

  • Addison – my baby – will be halfway through college, and she will be 20 years old.
  • Bethany will have a couple of years of teaching under her belt (Lord, I hope she finds a job in that three years.)
  • Morgan will be nearing 30 years old. Yikes.
  • Layne will be starting kindergarten.
  • Rhett will be 3 1/2, and following his big brother around.
  • Molly will be driving.
  • Lucy will enter her teen years.
  • Gabe will hit double digits.
  • The first class I had as third graders will be graduating.
  • My first eighth graders will be starting their senior year.
  • And I….well, I will be 50, no longer able to deny middle age (Hell, I will be just about past middle age. What comes after that? Upper middle age?).

Add to that list that loved ones will die, babies will be born, new friends will be made, and lives will be changed, whether it be for the better or worse, by choice or circumstance. Just three years.

So, what is the point of all of this? It enables me to see how quickly our lives evolve, how change is inevitable, and that I had better make the best of each day rather than letting those three years pass without making them count. What changes do I want to make in those three years? Who do I want to be three years from now? What goals do I have? Here it goes…

  • I want to continue to run. That might sound simple, but with the knee issues I have had, it is no longer a given that I will run into my twilight years. I want to take care of my body so that I can continue to do what I love.
  • I want to continue to teach classes at the gym, and hopefully inspire a few people to love their bodies, and to never give up on themselves.  In the past two years, I have made so many incredible friends through Everbody’s; I am blessed by their presence in my life.
  • I will continue to grow and learn as a teacher. I will care about my students, encourage my students, and help them find their talents. I am so fortunate to have such a great job, and I will not take that for granted.
  • I will stay fit and strong. I will continue to cross train, and set a positive example for our kids and grandkids.
  • I want to be living in town within the next three years (in a house with a large yard and a pool).
  • I need to work on taking time for prayer. I always wait until I go to bed, and then my mind wanders like crazy. I will be in a big old conversation with God, and suddenly I am thinking about what to wear to school the next day. I need to focus.
  • I will run sprints. I will run sprints. I will run sprints. I don’t like sprints, but know they are good for me, so I will do it.
  • I will stop avoiding running up Mozart. Just like sprints, hill work is a necessary evil. I will run hills.

And, there are some things I know won’t change in three years:

  • I will still dislike most vegetables. Give it up, Mother.
  • I will stay say stupid crap without thinking.
  • I will still be neurotic about arriving places early.
  • I will still like candy, dessert, and junk food.
  • I will still tell my girls what to do, even though they’ll all be adults.
  • I will still tell Gary where to go when he is driving.
  • I will still use sarcasm when I probably shouldn’t.

Where will you be in three years? Will you make that time count? It’s just three years.

A couple other random thoughts for the evening…

Thanks to all who read and shared my last blog about accepting homosexuals. It was read by over 1700 people. That might not seem like a big deal, but 1700 readers learned that this happens to real families with real feelings. If that blog makes even one person think twice about how he or she treats others, it was worth the effort. Just be nice.

Running. My goodness, we went from a long, cold winter straight into hot, humid weather. I am not complaining (because I complained all winter about the cold), but my running is suffering tremendously. Six weeks ago I ran 13.1 miles in a race; now I am struggling to run three miles. I committed to the Runner’s World Running Streak, which means I will run at least a mile every day for 40 days, from Memorial Day to the Fourth of July. I finished day seven today. I thought this might help me build back up my endurance, and it forces me to exercise every single day. I am also doing more walking because my daughters like to go. This is the first time that all three girls have been home for an extended period of time in a few years, so it also gives me time to spend with them.

Make this week count! You won’t get a do-over. Peace and Love..

 

 

 

Homosexuality Isn’t Contagious…

…I really want to add an expletive, but that just wouldn’t be right, would it? I have encountered a couple instances of plain old ignorance in the past week, and that, of course, prompted this blog. As the mother of three daughters, I have always prided myself on staying out of their fights. I was not a mom who got in the middle of their drama, and I didn’t call other moms complaining that their girls were picking on my babies. I have seen lots of girls make up the next day, while the parents continue to bash one another. That isn’t pretty. I also know that many times (most times?) my daughters probably had some part in whatever was going on. Even when I saw the hateful messages sent by the mean girls, I refrained (as hard as it was) from getting involved. Consequently, my girls can take care of themselves.

And here comes the however…when adults are hateful, it pisses me off. Ignorance? Well, there is just no excuse for it. So, without using names, I will just put them in my blog, and perhaps they will read it, and realize how ridiculous their words were.

The first incident was last week on – get this – Facebook. A person from the church we attend posted the following:

Here’s my two cents worth on this gay football player getting all this attention. I heard a preacher many years ago say that God made ADAM AND EVE NOT Adam and Steve. We just celebrated Mother’s Day. If this stupidity continues somewhere down the line we won’t have Mother’s day. Come on people WAKE UP!!!

First of all, I am really sick of the whole ‘Adam and Steve’ thing. Grow up. But then there is the ignorant part: Seriously? Everyone is going to DECIDE to be gay, so we won’t have any more kids, hence no more Mother’s Day? That’s ignorance at its finest. I tried to reply as respectfully as my ticked-off brain would allow. I told him that homosexuality is NOT a choice, and that because I have a daughter who is gay, I am offended by his post. And then, another church-goer replied:

 Let UM HAVE IT GARY. HOPE IT,S NOT TOO LATE.

(I won’t even touch the errors). And people wonder why so many people don’t attend church? Thankfully, we have an awesome church, and this is not the norm. I considered not returning because I will not go anyplace where my daughter is not welcome, but after some online conversations with my minister, I knew that wasn’t the answer. I went to church yesterday, and I worked really hard to think nice thoughts, after all, God knows what I am thinking!

I got through that, and only lost one night’s sleep. Then last night hit. My daughter came home, seemed a little down, and headed upstairs. After a short time, I received a text from her (What? Don’t you text from another room – especially another level – to avoid all that walking?). One of her best friend’s mothers decided that her daughter could no longer be friends with my daughter because…yes, you guessed it…she doesn’t want her daughter to be GAY!  Are you kidding me? It’s contagious? Really? I went upstairs to console my now-sobbing daughter. Hearing her say, “Mom, I’m not a bad person,” was heart-breaking. No, she isn’t a bad person. In fact, she is one of the best people I know. She is kind, intelligent, athletic, responsible, and beautiful. She is everything I could ask for in a child. She has never been in trouble; she doesn’t touch drugs or alcohol; she is going to serve as president of the National Honor Society; and students and staff respect her. Addison is in every leadership group she can be; she’s an awesome golfer; she is in the top 10 in her class. But because she happens to be gay, a parent won’t let her daughter hang out with her? I want to smack that mother. I am not a violent person (at my size, that would just get me in trouble), but this ignorant woman broke my daughter’s heart and made her question her worth. How dare she. I suspect it might not be so much that she doesn’t want her daughter to ‘catch gay’, but that she is worried what others might think. If she hangs around a gay friend, she must also be gay. Right? This mother is likely more concerned with her own image than with doing what’s right.

I wish people would realize that sexuality is only one part of who we are. There is so much more to a person than whom he or she is attracted to. My daughter is a wonderful friend. She would give her last dime to help someone. She is fun to be around, and so compassionate. She is an excellent listener, and can provide common sense when needed. Certainly, she isn’t out trying to convert heterosexuals to the other side. I told her that when she goes to college, things will be better. When she gets out of this small town, she will be more accepted for who she is. The thing is, for the most part the kids at school have been awesome. It’s some of the adults who are judgmental and small-minded.

What’s the answer? We have to educate people. We, and by that I mean YOU, have to stand up for acceptance. Homosexuality is NOT a choice. Gay teens deserve the same kindness, respect, and friendship as every other kid. People need to quit throwing the Bible at the gay community, especially when they choose to focus on only what doesn’t affect them. In the Bible it says the following are sinful:  divorce, using the Lord’s name in vain, cutting one’s hair, wearing make-up, over-indulgence of food or drink, gambling….you get the point. So why do some people pick out only the verses on homosexuality? Why do they have the right to force their interpretation on me? The overall message of the Bible is to love one another. That’s it. We aren’t called to judge or condemn; we are only called to love.

I’ve said this before, but if you are curious about the whole Bible/Homosexuality debate, there is a book called ‘Torn’ by Justin (Somebody) on Amazon that is fabulous. If you want to help kids like Addison, please share this blog. My daughter is not contagious.

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