Flexibility

Flexibility. Change of plans. Spontaneous. Call it what you will, I struggle with all of them. I have a calendar, a planner, a list and I really strive to stick with it. Even if nothing is on my agenda for the day, I can't suddenly meet you for brunch with an hours notice. I'm not likely to travel downtown for drinks when you call me at 6:00pm on a Saturday night. I'm just like that. If I have nothing planned, then that's what I want to do: nothing.

It's a little selfish, and alot that I'm just not wired like that. This is why I don't do well with the whole, "let's just jump in a car and see where the road takes us" idea. Roadtrips: no destination in mind, no agenda, just the open road and a full tank of gas. As God would have it, this is how my husband loves to travel.

But, yesterday, as I was walking out the door at work, raincoat on, purse weighing heavily on my shoulder, I get the news that a friend was looking for someone to go to the Sting concert at the Apollo Theater in Harlem. The show would begin in three hours. And I was headed to an hour long appointment downtown and Harlem is uptown... BUT--- I stepped beyond myself and said, "Yes! I will meet you there."

So, what could have been a whirlwind of frustration and a logistical nightmare, turned into an amazing evening. After acupuncture I had an early snack-ish sort of dinner at Whole Foods: Energy Salad, Detox Salad- think sprouted things and raw veggies, baked tofu and eggplant. Then I leisurely made my to the Sting concert. Therapeutic indeed.

I love live music, but this was a deeply rewarding experience. Mostly because my dear friend was a backup singer for Sting during a previous tour, so she was able to give me the inside scoop on who's who and what's what. She is an amazing singer/ song writer and plays piano regularly at the church I attend. Her husband is also a musician and producer... she amazes me.

It is apparent how passionate Sting is about his music; about telling a story through song. His lyrics are provocative. His body language says that he believes in the gospel he's preaching. Watching him perform in-front of an entire orchestra left me full of life. The stage was an ocean of reeds bobbling up and down, four percussionists pounding, and the conductor was just as phenomenal to watch as Sting himself. She was just plain sexy- swaying and reaching, her hair flying to and fro, her bare shoulders reaching out and up. I simply love watching artists do what they do.

When you are passionate about what you do, it shows. When are doing what you were put on this earth to do, you are happier. It's just music. But, it's music. This night will make me feel more alive than possibly anything else I've experienced all week, and that makes it worth it.

Lenten Learning

It's amazing what a week can do. Or forty days. I started out lent giving up processed foods. And I did miss crackery-snack things, canned soups and Luna Bars. (I am in love with Chocolate Peppermint Luna Bars.)

Then, about three weeks into Lent, I started going to the Yinova Center. For all practical purposes lets say they specialize in Acupuncture, Chinese Medicine and women's health, for the most part. During my first visit there, I was encouraged to omit sugar, wheat and dairy from my diet. So, that was that. I took this knowledge and applied it. It's worth a shot if this might be the remedy to what ails me.

And since I haven't filled you in on my alternative medicine experience, I will let you know that I have really enjoyed it. Today will be my third visit (Somehow last week my appointment didn't get scheduled appropriately. I'm assuming it was a simple miscommunication with the gal at the reception desk because I'm pretty sure I said "Put me down for Thursday at 4:15 and if I need to change, I will call you." But that is neither here nor there. However, I was upset about it last Thursday.)

It's been four weeks now. No sugar, no wheat, no dairy. An herbal tea to drink twice a day that tastes like dirt. And a Liver Detox. (Don't judge. I'm just gonna do it for now.) And I receive acupuncture treatments which leave me feeling invigorated. This was my first experience with acupuncture and during the first visit when, after she had the needles in, she said, "See you in thirty minutes. Have a nice rest." I was like, "Excuse me?? What??"

Thirty minutes? I have to lay here for thirty minutes. I don't even lay around on my couch for thirty minutes. In my own home. In that moment I was immediately reminded of a quote I read by Leighton Ford in the Daily Office book months ago:

"When I am still compulsion gives way to compunction. That is when God can break through the many layers with which I protect myself, so that I can hear his Word and be poised to listen...

I can mistake the overflow of my adrenaline for the moving of the Holy Spirit; I can live in the illusion that I am ultimately in control of my destiny and daily affairs.

Blaise Pascal observed that most of our human problems come because we don't know how to sit still in our room for an hour."

So, I did some full-lunged inhales and exhales and laid there for the complete 30 minutes. And it

was quite nice actually. I don't know if I love it yet, but these things take time. I would recommend it though. I do look forward to it and I do think it is amazing. So, we'll see.

So, I'm still dairy-free and wheat-free and sugar free. But I have had some soy crisps and a coconut based frozen dessert that I swear tastes just like ice cream.

More than giving-up of something (because now I'm facing new dietary restraints), I feel like I was really purposeful about meditating and preparing my heart this Lent season. It was an entire forty day journey. I realized that it's a daily choice we make, to live under grace and walk in freedom and joy. Our circumstances do not determine the reality of the resurrection. And I have so much to be joyful, joy-filled about and it should show on my face and in my step.

...

I took these picture yesterday morning on my walk to the train. The Church of the Holy Trinity is on 88th street between First and Second Avenue and I've been purposeful about walking past it this week. It's just gorgeously landscaped, the trees and flowers are in bloom. It makes me happy.

Lent this year was a lesson for me in setting aside time for quiet. To walk slower and take notice. To me what may seem unproductive and boring is necessary. It's nourishment to my spirit, it's at the core of who I am. How can I hear if I'm not quiet? How can I receive if I don't calm down and just sit, opening myself up and "lift up my heart" as I read on a banner hanging outside another church I passed earlier this week? I felt like that banner was there for me, that I had walked one block too far and had to turn around just to see that banner: "Lift up your heart."

So, for me Lent was more than what I could sacrifice and realizing he's already given the ultimate sacrifice. As our pastor stated in a recent sermon, "he is our scapegoat" and that image has truly helped me.

Lent has reinforced and reminded me that body, mind and soul- they are more integrated and more intertwined than I'd like to admit at times. Reading the Easter story and reflecting on the life of Christ during the week surrounding his death, burial, and resurrection, reminded me of how he was 100% God and 100% man, and he's walked this earth. And I find great hope in that.

And the rest of Easter weekend

Saturday I didn't get out of my pajamas. There I said it. It was a rainy, foggy, muggy day- so the weather was perfect for lounging. And even though we left the the apartment for a trip to the library and the grocery store- I still kept my yoga pants and long-sleeved t-shirt on. I simply threw on my galoshes and a raincoat and Viola! New York City here I come!

I did go to the gym too--- again, not much in the way of "getting ready" there either.

It was a restful day; yet still a bit productive. I put away my heavy sweaters, tweed skirts and leggings, did some laundry and cooked a weeks worth of food. I love planning and prepping my food on the weekend: huge vats of quinoa, a big pot of lentils and steel-cut oats that I portion out into individual containers for the work week ahead.

Sunday morning we were at church at 7:45AM! Hallelujah! He Is Risen!

I love Easter Sunday morning and being able to celebrate with my church family the Victory over the cross. The service opened where we left off on Good Friday, with "Were you there, when he rose up from the tomb?" sung a cappella, from the balcony, beautifully by the amazing Jen Harvey. Then Heidi entered with the last candle extinguished during our Tenebrae service. It was all just so simply symbolic and nice. (I know I'm partial because I'm on the Worship Executive Team, however, I'm hopeful people "got it")

The choir sang. The mood was jubilation. And the newly finished, women's restroom was open for business. It was a good Sunday. (However, now that the old women's restroom has become the men's room--- I'm wondering how many near catastrophes there were Sunday morning.)

After church we headed home to our crockpot bubbling up with roast, potatoes and carrots. Chris made gravy to accompany the roast. And I made a huge salad.

And the weather was superb! I even told Chris, "This is the day I've waited for since October." I got to spend time on the sundeck reading and journaling. Chris and I both made phone calls to family and friends back in Texas. I just felt rested and ready to hit the week after a beautiful three day weekend.

Easter provides comfort in knowing that our Savior not only empathizes with us, but he experiences my pain with me. He's been here, he knows just how messy and unfair and rough life can be. Easter is the foundation of our Faith- as Christians. He rose. His life gives us hope that this world and what we can see is only part of reality, only part of the picture.

When Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of James found the empty tomb they departed quickly, with fear and great joy to tell the news. Where God is sending us, may bring great joy and also fear- but that's okay as long as we move forward. As long as we move quickly into obedience.

Most of the time, the way God orchestrates things, isn't how I would like to see things unfold. Death on a cross? Pretty sure none of the twelve saw that one coming either. But justice had to be served. Blood had to be shed. The price had to be paid. With out Good Friday there would be no Resurrection Sunday. But, being obedient in the small things leads to obedience in much larger things. To those whom much is given, much is required.

The Bible is not a book of fables, fairy tales or parables. It is Truth. It gives me promises to stand on when I am afraid, when my feet feel like they're stuck in cement and I can't run and all I want to do is sit down and have a glass of wine and cry for an hour. That's when I know God is doing big things. When I'm pushed out of myself and into his grace. He sees me so differently than I see myself, he knows my worth. He's given me grace.

He is Risen!

Good Friday

(Warning: This is not our baby!)

Last Friday our offices were closed and Chris was on Spring Break, so taking it easy was on the agenda!

While Chris was off work last week, I've enjoyed coming home to a tidy house and even a nice seafood gumbo dinner one night (a really amazing meal!)- He really does well, putting away clean dishes, doing a load of laundry here and there. He even changed the sheets on the bed! But even moreso, he's rested all day, been introspective and alone; so, when I get home he's talkative and engaging. I simply say this, because I love it when my husband has stories and dreams and "things God told him" to share with me. And let's be honest, usually I'm the one talking his ear off.

So, Friday we slept in, made a late breakfast and then I headed to New Jersey to visit baby Lewis and his mother Liisa. (This picture is from our first visit to NJ to meet Lewis. It is not our child, though many have said we appear like a little family in the photo above. This is not the case, I just could not resist posting the picture of my hubby supporting a tiny baby in his arms.) I spent the afternoon chatting, ooing, cooing and eating fruit salad. We even took the stroller out for a spin to the pharmacy, Starbucks and the neighborhood park. I had a lovely time before heading to church in the evening for our Good Friday services.

Tazo Vanilla Rooibos tea in hand (one of my new favorite things) I arrived early, changed clothes and prepared for this intense telling of the Crucifixion story. And I was reminded again of a few truths throughout the service:

I love the way Thomas is like, "You say where I'm going we will see you again there. But... No Jesus, we don't know where you are going so how will we know how to get there?" It's so easy Thomas, don't you see? Why do we forget this life is not all there is to it? Eternity awaits. We aren't going to get it, perhaps, this side of heaven. God has placed eternity on our hearts, it will get better than this.

And how Jesus says, "I know there will be troubles and pain and heartache here, in the world, but never fear- for I have overcome the world."

And, how once again, he says, "Up to this point, you have ask for nothing in my name. Ask, and you will receive, so that your joy may be full." Often, when I'm complaining about one of ten things I'm complaining about that particular day, Chris will ask me, "Have you prayed about this?"

And I'm thinking, "Irrelivant! Just listen to me moan and groan and give me some advice. Some way I can manage this... on my own!"

My biggest problem: accepting grace. I know I need grace, I know I am completely broken and an utter wreck- however it's so hard to look at a perfect, loving, sinless God and know that he did it for me. Sometimes I think I can try hard enough and "get it all right" so I'll need a lesser amount of grace-- or something.

I'm not really sure what I'm think in that moment when I'm pushing away the love and acceptance of the cross, instead of surrendering to it. I believe and confess one thing with my mouth, but in my heart to let his grace continually wash over me---- I feel overwhelmed. I feel like Peter who said, "then don't just was my feet, but my entire body. I'm desperate. I'm a failure. I'm in need of some serious change!"

But God is not in the behavior modification business. God renews, rebuilds, restores, from the inside out. And I can't even stand without grace. And I am far from sinless--- and will never be whole this side of heaven. But- his Grace is Enough and I am covered and if I'm not living under that grace, I'm probably living under guilt.

Good Friday. Yeah, it was necessary. Our God is a just God, and blood had to be shed. And after the service I went home with one of those intense, Holy Spirit headaches I get from worship and praying and tears and some serious heart evaluation.

...

Saturday morning I woke up with the same headache and made myself lay in bed until 9:00, spooning and pillow talking with Chris. I'm usually out of bed by 7:00AM, coffee made, reading in my favorite chair, or heading out the door to the gym.

"I need to do this more," I say to Chris. "This is good for me. This is more necessary than swiffering or doing laundry while your still in bed. I need to do some serious re-prioritizing."

Simply Extraordinary

Last night I roasted a two bunches of asparagus, quite a few Brussels sprouts and an entire Spanish onion. It's amazing how much flavor can be brought out in roasting veggies- squash, bell peppers, zucchini or eggplant. Deliciousness abounds!

I toss the chopped veggies with salt, pepper, garlic powder and olive oil. After spreading them on a cookie sheet I leave them in the oven at about 375 degrees for 10 minutes, toss and turn them with my tongs and cook them another 10-15 minutes. Chris is amazed at how wonderful roasted veggies taste. "I could eat these all day long. You just need to make about four times this amount, and we'd have a decent amount of food." He thinks that roasted veggies are simply extraordinary.

But it's simple. And yes, while roasting does omit much of the fiber and nutritional value of any vegetable they do taste scrumptious this way.

"Roasted veggies have browning, carmelization, and crisping happening, while steamed ones are just cooked. Roasted vegetables are just more tantalizing to most all of the senses -- sight, taste, smell and even touch."

Roasting just requires a little preparation and time. It's not hard. It's easy. It's simple. But compared to a raw Brussels sprout it's extraordinary.

...

In my mind simple and extraordinary are not synonymous. Usually, I think of them in opposite terms. Something extraordinary requires planning and preparation. Extraordinary things are well thought-out, planned, and need a production manager, an E-vite, a Daily Planner or someone with a clipboard and stopwatch.

But some things are simply extraordinary. They just are.

The moon outside my window Sunday night

Perennials that can survive the freezing temperatures of winter

How cinnamon makes everything taste better

Canadian geese in flight

The way a musician can make so many sounds from a trumpet that has just three keys

Fireflies and surfers and rainbows and two cells becoming an entire being all it's own in just nine short months

I've been waiting on something extraordinary to happen. I've been looking for contracts though. And assignments and announcements and big bold letters and emails with the Subject of: Meeting Scheduled, or This is Your Opportunity, or Congratulations, we accept your proposal. But none of this has happened. And I'm not saying that it can't happen that way, it just probably won't. It will probably be a heck of alot more simple.

How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and day after day have sorrow in my heart?

On the Mountain

Monday, was absolutely gorgeous here, in the New York. The first warm, non-winter feeling day in a long, long time. That's why at 10:45pm Sunday night I decided to take a "sick" day Monday. Okay, I didn't really decide Chris decided for me. Or, really, we decided together.

We rented a $80 Zip Car- a Honda Civic- and hit the road at 9:00AM, North- to Bear Mountain. Chris would have preferred the $120 BMW, but one again chose sacrifice over splurging. After arriving at 10:15AM, picnic lunch and 3 liters of water in tote (on Chris's back of course) we started our climb.

Bear Mountain is an easy climb, for people who are climbers- per se- like my husband is. I didn't need special shoes or ropes and pulleys attached to me to make it to the top. Much of the mountain was excavated and cleared, with steps and stairs winding to the top. However, being a climber, an adventurer a thrill seeker and someone who enjoys living out of a car for days at a time; my husband thought our way up would not include the stairs.

We cut straight through the rock and leaves and dead limbs left behind from winter. Some of the route we took was part of the Appalachian Trail, some was cleared for hiking, some, was sort of desolate. But we made it to the top in about two hours and it felt really great. At each clearing I'd stop and look back and out across at the view and think, "Wow, look how far we've come." Near the end, I did say a couple of times, "Aren't we at the top yet?"

We found a lookout spot of our own, on a over-sized bench with the perfect view, and watched birds (I called them hawks, Chris called them eagles) gliding in-between the mountains and among the tree tops. We had our snack: Stef- English peas, carrot sticks, nuts and prunes. Chris- a PB&J, carrot sticks and hummus and 4 vanilla cream cookies. We sat. We wrote in our

journals, we sweat. Chris took this shirt off and bask in the sun like lizard who hadn't felt the sun so warm in months.

We finally did find our way to the tippy-top, and the lookout tower. There were cars and motorcycles parked around and a few others who had hiked the route instead of driving. We climbed up more stairs to the lookout tower, which would have held spectacular views had it not been overcast and a bit foggy, but I wasn't complaining. Supposedly, you can see the city.

Then we headed back down. Only after stopping, again, at our "rest area" of choice with the big bench. I just didn't want to leave the mountain. It was peaceful and scenic and so far away from what I have to deal with day in and day out. No noise, no chores, no other people... Chris said this is the problem with the mountain top; you can't stay there forever, as nice as that would be.

I finished the last sip of my coconut water, wrote one more line in my journal about how this day would sustain me for weeks to come and told Chris I was ready to move on. Only if we could take the stairs: the more traveled route. He agreed. I was happy that I had climbed up through rocks and sticks and piles of dead leaves, I didn't want to have to avoid tumbling down that way too.

I think Chris was proud of me for following him up the mountain, and trusting that he wouldn't lead me to harm and believing in myself that I could actually do it. And, he told me that he hadn't cut his toenails lately and quite frankly, the impact of going downhill like that would be painful on his toes.

Five hours after parking our Zip-car and heading up Bear Mountain, we had returned to the now busting parking lot. Chris took off his backpack, we grabbed our apples and headed over to sit by the lake.

It was such a sweet time; with Chris, with the quietness, with God- reflecting, thinking, praying. I couldn't thank Chris enough for making me take this mental health day to step out of my head for awhile. To relax and get away. I needed it more than I knew and until I got out there, pushed myself, climbed, sweat and got an amazing farmers tan- I had no idea how caught up I was.

On the drive back we contemplated what else we might need to do with a car. It was ours for 24 hours. Target? No Wal-Mart? Nah. There is one place I wanted to go: Trader Joe's. A Trader Joe's outside of Manhattan where I could look, shop, have space to push a grocery cart and buy as much as I wanted. More than I could carry even because... I had a car to put it all in!

My husband was so selfless and nice that he found one on our way back into the city in Westchester. And I spent over $100.

It was a good day to play hooky from work. It was necessary and needed and I feel like I brought back a piece of something bigger than myself. Something that reminds me there is no need to rush, even when everyone else is. Something that slows me down and makes me look up instead of down. Something that reminds me that this world will one day be as it was meant to be- restored. Transformed. Made new. Made whole.

I climbed my first mountain, and I'm ready for a little more.

Life-n-Stuff

I realize each year around this time (well, for the past four years which we've been in NYC) that I haven't taken any pictures with my camera since Christmas.) After Christmas, evidentially, there are no worthwhile events in my life until May. In all honesty, I think that the cold just puts me in the "I can't be bothered with photographs" attitude and when the idea even crosses my mind, Grab your camera!, I push it aside.

Gotham Girls Roller Derby--- nah, too cold. Plus, what would I do with photos of tattooed girls on roller skates?

13.1 Half Marathon Saturday- nah, not taking a purse. I ran last year. I have pictures. Same race, same course, same people

Vegetarian Food Festival- nah, what's there to photograph. Even if I wander the streets on my way home-- it's cold and ugly, there won't be anything photo worthy.

Stef's Birthday Celebrations- I've had previous birthdays. I have photos from those.

And all the Saturday's and Sunday's I spend at farmer's markets, or strolling the park or taking the train all the way downtown just to get a slice of vegan pizza taking my camera does cross my mind, but it's too cold to see artistically through that lens. I don't know what it is really, but I hope to snap out of it in the next 15- 30 days. In the mean time, text filled posts and the occasional phone photo are all there will be. Like this photo- Grass Scented shower gel. I never missed the scent of freshly mowed yard as much as I do now. A B-day gift from my pal Erin.

...

On Sunday I skipped church and attended the first NYC Vegetarian Food Festival. I've been to the Veggie Pride Parade in the past (coming up May 15th) but nothing like this. Even though I got there about 15 minutes before the doors opened and an hour before the first speaker there were about 150 people in front of me and I had to wait an hour to get in the door. After previously considering it, I opted out of the VIP tickets ($50) which would have got me right in and a cute tote bag with free stuff. But once inside it was well worth it.

I especially enjoyed the speakers- which very few people seemed to be taking advantage of. Okay, about 100-200 of us, versus the masses that were weaving their way in-between the booths of free vegan/ veggie snacks.

And here's my opinion on that: just because it's a vegan cupcake doesn't mean it's not a cupcake. Just because it's a vegan cookie doesn't mean it's not made with oils and processed stuff that is not the greatest for your system. Just because it's made with all organic ingredients, doesn't mean that fake chicken nuggets and textured vegetable protein and daiya cheese are great foods to feed your body. My grandmother wouldn't have recognized this stuff as food. And by the by- evaporated cane juice - it's just sugar folks.

I guess staunch veggies are happy that there are alternatives now and ways to "treat" themselves. But it should be just that; a treat. Most vendors at this exhibit were peddling, what I would label, "not real" foods. Vegan marshmallows, vegan cupcakes and cookies, vegan chocolate and cheeses and ice cream. It was a little odd how there were NO vegetables present.

My favorite samples included: dried fruit, raw 100% cocoa, kambucha, raw ice cream, Marys Gone Crackers, and some really good salad dressing with all real, pronounceable ingredients. I bought a book, two bottles of Kambucha for $2 each (instead of the $3.99 that they sell for in the health food stores) and a scoop of Raw Ice Cream for $1. I also walked out with a bag of samples (teas, nutrition shakes, crackers) and loads of pamphlets, fliers, stickers, and handouts. Lots of propaganda (PETA!) some information that's peaked my interest and some that I'll research further. And I heard, on my way out at around 3:00, that the wait time to get in the door was around three hours.

But before I start buying chorella and spirulina and cut all dairy from my diet- tomorrow I'm very excited to have my initial consultation at The YinOva Center.

Celebration

Today is my baby bothers 14th birthday (even though he looks 17!) I remember when he was born, my junior year of high school. I was away at "All State" One Act Play UIL. The play title: Do Black Patent Leather Shoes Really Reflect Up? He chose to be born then.

I wonder now if my role as a nun in a high school play was really that important. I don't know. I didn't really regret not being there for his birth, but when I drove my car from the high school parking lot, after arriving on a yellow bus, very late at night- straight to the hospital just to see him- I felt very anxious.

And of course I barely made the maternity ward curfew; the time when all babies are collected from all mothers and put into the nursery for the night. But I did get to hold him for a few minutes and I was happy for that.

I lived under the same roof as him for one year. He has three older sisters, but he's very much an only child. My brother can do lots of things at fourteen, that I can not. He can drive a standard powered transmission (and has had ample practice on tractors and backhoes and jeeps.) He can drive a motorcycle too. Again, no surprise there. He's also an amazing pianist and has really developed his skill and talent. He can light a gas grill- and has been for years, something else I've never even attempted. This should should not raise question to the ability of my parents parenting. We were girls he's a boy....

That's why he could mow the yard with the riding lawn mower at six or seven and we had to wait until we were twelve. He knows how to prepare and cook his own hamburgers - when my mom's not around. Or, probably more accurately, when her squash casserole or broccoli slaw don't sound appealing. Now that the boys are the majority in my parent's home (2:1 vs 1:4 when I was growing up) my mom lets the men make the man food they require much of the time.

My brother is country and loud and a big personality. He likes the TV show The Big Bang Theory, jazz music, reading these massively huge paperback science fiction books and doing guy stuff with my dad: mending fences, mowing, going to sale barns, moving cattle from one pasture to the next, fixing things and breaking things in order to fix them. Today he's fourteen.

When he was born my two best friends and I called him Fresh Baby. And secretively, we still do.

....

And on the topic of Celebration, Saturday I worked as a volunteer for the 13.1 Manhattan in Queens. Many members of our church were running this half marathon to raise money for Rawanda. Those of us not running volunteered. I got up at 5:00AM on a Saturday and took the 7 train all the way to the last stop- Flushing Meadows Park/ Shea Stadium to stand outside in the windy cold to..........

hand out metals at the finish line!

It was the perfect race day volunteer spot; much preferred to working a water station or passing out cups of gator-aide. Those water stops can be pretty dangerous!

Our team of eight placed metals around necks of complete strangers while saying "Congratulations," "Way to Go," "Great Job," or "You did it" through wide grins. It was encouraging and rewarding and it never got boring--- even after 3 1/2 hours. When I finally got home and in out of the wind, with a chill I just couldn't shake, I was exhausted (train delays, weekend track work, local trains, transfers....) but thankful for the opportunity to Celebrate with so many strangers.

Just to see the look in their eyes of success, of accomplishment, of doing something really hard, of achievement- made it worth it. I think our team of Congratulators did an amazing job sincerely applauding every single person as they crossed that finish line.