Running…to Remember Vlady

By Lisa Calice

This is a photo I took while running the Brooksie Way Half Marathon

Thinking back to my childhood, running wasn’t a specific activity, it was a natural state of being. I’d like to think running was for the sheer joy of doing it, and imagine my little girl self taking off just to see how fast my legs could carry me, almost like flying. As I grew older, running took its place in my life as training for my chosen sports. We had to run for basketball, soccer, softball and even volleyball. Whenever training for a new season began, it would be challenging, but after a few weeks of doing it, running always became effortless.

Over the many years of running, I noticed that regular practice seemed to reap amazing benefits, confidence and I could actually feel my legs and my lungs getting stronger as it got easier and I felt faster and lighter. This is one truth that never changed.

Finally, when I was in my 30’s, the day came that I couldn’t run. I tore my ACL and underwent surgery. Life changed and I thought it might be permanent. Even walking was a challenge and on more days than I wish to admit, I wanted to give up. I went to physical therapy twice a week and my kids came with me. My son, Vlady, took a keen interest in my recovery. He held the clipboard while I did my exercises and made sure I completed them. When I was getting “stretched” by the physical therapist, he coached her to touch my heel to my buttocks. As I lay there feeling like my knee would disintegrate, I wanted to quit. Many, many years later, I am grateful for his tenacity. Other patients we ran into each week, called Vlady my “caddy” and asked where they could get one! At home I just wanted to flop onto the sofa and feel sorry for myself. Vlady would set a chair out on the driveway and have me “shoot hoops” with him. He never let me give up and so I never did. I’m forever grateful for his encouragement. Eventually I got back to running a few miles per week, just like I had before I tore my ACL. I was slow and careful not to re-injure myself, but at least I had the ability to run again.

Many years later, my daughter Lina asked me to run the Brooksie Way Half Marathon with her. I had zero training to do such a long race. I used to do the YMCA Lazyman Triathlon each year because it always coincided with my birthday and for me it was the start of a new year. Lina promised to motivate me each week and she did. We had little time to train before the race but somehow we did it. On the morning of the race, she was in a car accident. She told me to run without her. She did try to do the race when she got there, she had lost her socks in the accident so she was not able to finish due to blisters. She gave so much encouragement to me for which I will also be forever grateful. I completed the race without injury or pain in my knee of any kind. From then on her gift to me was that the Brooksie Way became a tradition. It gave me confidence that I could overcome adversity and accomplish my goals. It helped me to not give up.

Running has continued to thread its way through my life.i began to enjoy doing races with either fun themes, good causes, or both. It always gives me a sense of accomplishment when I meet my goals and complete a race. It can help bring awareness to something I believe in. Running also helps me to honor the gifts my children Lina and Vlady gave to me when they encouraged me and stayed at my side during my difficulties. I think of them and thank them each time that I run.

I was not at all surprised to discover that Vlady encouraged others in their goals as well. His good friend Zachary contacted me recently and told me he was doing a 50K at the Traverse City Trail Running Festival in April. He asked me if I wanted to join in or be there to cheer him on because he dedicating his efforts in memory of Vlady. I decided to join him in a 10K. We also have my sister, Anne, doing a 10K in his memory.

Our entire family and all of his friends miss Vlady every day. This April will mark an entire year without him. We are dedicating our training, our miles run in all kinds of weather, and our race day performance on April 23rd, to Vlady’s memory, with gratitude for having had him in our lives and to encourage ourselves and those who are struggling with his loss, to keep going. On many days when I don’t want to run, I feel like he is with me telling me not to give up. My running has given my life a daily purpose. I hope we can also bring some awareness to mental health struggles that many face, and bring attention to some causes I know Vlady would have supported had he been here with us today. For me I’m hoping to recapture some of that childhood feeling of “running for the sheer joy of it.” Please follow my posts and blog entries in the days ahead as I attempt to do just that. I appreciate any and all encouragement on this journey.

You can support our upcoming runs by supporting these causes:

Stop Soldier Suicide this organization helps veterans and active duty military. They provide consistent, safe, confidential care that saves lives. You can read more or donate on this link or on my Facebook fundraiser. You can also join my training team: Team Vlady and help me do 2000 burpees in the month of April!

UCARE, Inc. (Ukrainian Children’s Aid and Relief Effort) is a non-profit 501(c)(3) Organization whose focus is the children of Ukraine, primarily those living in orphanages and internaty (government run orphanage-schools). I know that Vlady would have appreciated our support as this was his life before he joined our family. Currently the need is great in Ukraine with the Russian attacks and these kids need our help! You can donate to this cause in memory of Vlady on this website.

If you would like to join us in Traverse City on April 23, here is more information. We welcome participants and we also welcome fans to cheer us on!

Blessings in the Unexpected

By Lisa Calice

“If you so choose, even the unexpected setbacks can bring new and positive possibilities. If you so choose, you can find value and fulfillment in every circumstance.”

— Ralph Marston

I awoke this morning to the moon shining brightly in the morning sky. Still too sleepy to form any expectations of the day, I was taking in my surroundings without judgement. And what a delight to see the nighttime moon bright and shining in the deep blues and pinks and purples of the morning. If I wouldn’t have bent down to pet my dogs, I may not have noticed the view of the moon juxtaposed to my hanging pot of flowers; the only ones that have survived the hot, dry summer we are experiencing. My view of life this morning was one of joyful happenstance.

It reminded me that prior to March of this year, I may not have been where I was, experiencing the beauty of a sleepy, unplanned view of the sky from my own backyard. I would have been too busy, racing from commitment to commitment. And while I’ve so often grieved over the life I’ve lost forever, I’ve had some beautiful moments of feeling inexplicably alive.

Life in the pandemic is as terrible as it is beautiful. The moments where I can escape the rat race, the fear, the masks and the lost jobs and opportunities have been some of the most inspiring I can remember. I was truly present this morning with nature; in my backyard, in my breath, and with my dogs. We were all connected as one, and the morning and it’s possibilities seemed as endless as the sapphire blue of the sky. I’ve always loved mornings and this morning that love made my heart so full. My pets and I were in harmony and the morning stood completely still. I felt myself breathe.

These are those moments where I know that the tragic setbacks and losses of the pandemic and the choices being made that are out of my control, can one day lead to something better. In my heart I have to believe this. I feel more inspired, energized, creative, compassionate, patriotic. I want to transform my world and I want to transform the whole world for the better. One beautiful moment, one breath, one person can make one small difference.

For the first time in most of my adult life, I have been dragged, at first kicking and screaming into a life I didn’t expect. It happened as suddenly and unexpectedly as if I had painstakingly created one of those intricately colored sand mandalas and someone came along with a large broom and swept it all away. There’s a pile of dirt that remains of my past, and that’s about it.

Gradually at first, there was an awakening to beauty that was equally unexpected. It was a little like rubbing the sleep out of my eyes this morning. Instead of focusing on who and what are never coming back, my eyes opened to what is here. Maybe I was too busy rushing around building my sand mandala to notice it.

As a result, the sky has opened up. There are new relationships to be had; a new career, new friends, renewed friends, new experiences, a heightened creativity. I am moving into the realm of the present, of acceptance. Maybe the difficulties will suck but will actually make me better. The things I used to be afraid of hardly seem scary any longer. How can I; a living, breathing, creative human being; wake up to the moon in summer sky and feel afraid? Many moons have arisen and set over many setbacks that have come and gone, and the world is still here. I am still here. Life passes so quickly. Maybe now I won’t miss it completely. Right here, in this moment, I am blessed.

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Lisa Calice, E-RYT200, BFA, CDP. Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/LisaCaliceYoga/ Twitter: @lisacyogini Instagram:https://www.instagram.com/lifewithlisayogini/

Visit ilovepete’s shop, for cool artwork on awesome products! https://www.redbubble.com/people/ilovepete/shop

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Making Our Own Magic

Make your own magic!

Everywhere I look these days, I see challenges. It’s easy to feel like I am climbing never-ending hills. It can be tempting to lose hope. Some days, it would be pretty easy to succumb to the challenges. I know I need to seek a balanced view, and go find moments where I believe something good will ultimately come. Or even that it’s all good. I want to find a way to live the best life I possibly can. No matter how small it is, I have become determined to make something magical happen.

Magic doesn’t have to be a major miracle; rather it is the little every day triumphs, and trying to enjoy every moment that I am here. I strive to appreciate the every day tasks and to do them the best that I can. I want to feel grateful rather than overwhelmed. I need to make some magic happen so that I can see challenges as opportunities. When I wash my dishes, instead of feeling like it’s a chore, I try to think, “thank God I have dishes to wash!” I want to make my own magic with the challenges, big and small, that I face each day.

One of my favorite quotes describes my thoughts best:

“Feelings, whether of compassion or irritation, should be welcomed, recognized, and treated on an absolutely equal basis; because both are ourselves. The tangerine I am eating is me. The mustard greens I am planting are me. I plant with all my heart and mind. I clean this teapot with the kind of attention I would have were I giving the baby Buddha or Jesus a bath. Nothing should be treated more carefully than anything else. In mindfulness, compassion, irritation, mustard green plant, and teapot are all sacred.”

Thich Nhat Hanh, The Miracle of Mindfulness: An Introduction to the Practice of MeditationTags: mindfulness, miracle, of

Today I went to visit my mom and dad. I could see right away that without gratitude, I was sunk. My mom was sleeping sitting on the sofa when I arrived and didn’t want to acknowledge my presence. Eventually she came around a bit, but she sure didn’t make it easy!

I had so many wonderful and easy years with my mom, that honestly it makes it that much easier for me on the challenging days. I know how lucky I’ve been and how much my mom has given to me. I can’t feel troubled providing anything I can for such a wonderful woman. Of course the challenge here is, she doesn’t remember who I am or how much I appreciate her. She gets frustrated and impatient so I need to wave my magic wand and be patient for both of us. I am learning to celebrate the teeny, tiny victories in a sea of disappointments.

Magical assistant!

This was one of those days where nothing I did seems to work. On those days I just try something else, or I keep trying. Today it was the paint by sticker books that broke the ice. I asked my mom if she wanted to make some pictures and she picked a book up right away. That’s when I saw the Make Your Own Magic picture. I knew right then that things would be ok. Whenever we are working on our pictures we are in unison; working toward a common goal. It keeps our minds focused and we can interact positively. I can feel my patience and compassion filling my heart.

I came up with this idea one day when I saw that my mom still had the capability to color perfectly in the lines, just like she always had, but that she no longer had the patience to do so. Color by sticker was the perfect option for her. She needs some assistance doing it, but it is just challenging enough without being impossible and she is so proud of the results. Since then, my sister has become the master at locating and obtaining new paint by sticker books that keep things interesting and fun.

If you have a Senior in your life, I highly recommend these! Here is a link to one of my favorites:

https://books.google.com/books/about/Paint_by_Sticker_Dogs.html?id=wfGoDwAAQBAJ&printsec=frontcover&source=kp_read_button

When we worked on the outer space sticker design, I had fun telling my mom the names of the items in the pictures, such as “The Big Dipper,” a “Shooting Star,” and “Saturn.” It reminded me of how patiently she used to read me my favorite book as a kid, “A Book of Planets for You.” Isthave this book. Although that

It brought me so much joy creating this picture with her, and I remembered our time spent with the planet book well enough for the both of us. In the scheme of things, it was such a small act, but truly a connection only my mother and I share, because that book was MY book ( I am sure I did not share it with my siblings, and that was back in the day when Pluto was still a still a planet)!

As I write this, I am thinking of all the elderly who are alone and isolated right now, and I’m working to find a way to help some of them. I hope we all find a way to reach out to make our seniors feel loved and appreciated. They may not all remember us, but we can all remember them! Let’s make our own magic happen! I love you mom! You are my inspiration! You make me a better me! You made my life magical.

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Lisa Calice, E-RYT200, BFA, CDP. Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/LisaCaliceYoga/ Twitter: @lisacyogini Instagram:https://www.instagram.com/lifewithlisayogini/

Visit ilovepete’s shop, for cool artwork on awesome products! https://www.redbubble.com/people/ilovepete/shop

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Freedom…Remembering the Joy of Walking in My Bare Feet

By Lisa Calice

I went on a journey today and like most journeys, it wasn’t about the miles traveled or the destination; it was the memories of the people and places that came before.

On the way home I took an unplanned detour. Why not? After all, I was now alone. While many of my freedoms have been limited lately, today was the Fourth of July, and I felt free. No one knew where I was, or cared; no plans, no invitations, and no expectations. Only my dogs waited at home for me today, and somehow I knew they would understand. My journey continued. I stopped at a place quite familiar to me; a place I had often visited with people I loved. Loved ones who because of circumstance and choice, are no longer with me. I had been longing to return to this place for a while. In part I did this to feel connected with that love and those memories again. And I also wanted to make this place my own.

I began walking the familiar path. My American Flag flip flops probably weren’t the best footwear choice for a trail walk. The river off to my right sparkled and bubbled in the evening sunshine. Drawn to the water, I left the path to climb down the stairway to a winding trail along the river. The memories came flooding back. While the trail was the familiar, it had changed with time.

Being in this place, I felt the presence of my loved ones here. More than mere memories, I felt like little pieces of us had remained here by the river; our words, our laughter, our tears, maybe even a fishing lure. I half expected to hear the sound of a familiar voice, or footsteps behind me.

I was still wearing my flip flops as I walked along the sandy, winding, sloping trail; ducking under branches, climbing over trees. At one point I slipped on the path and slid towards the water. I wasn’t afraid, but that’s the point where I realized my flip flops needed to come off.

How great it felt, finally, to feel my bare feet on the warm, sandy earth! My feet softly gripped the uneven ground, just like they were always meant to do. There was an instant change. More than just memories walked along with me. I was like a child again, filled with the sheer joy of being alive and connected to the nature around me. I was in my element. Dragonflies and other insects buzzed around and led me closer to the river. I came to a point where I could climb down and wade into the water.

The water felt warm and gentle as it swirled and flowed around my feet. It felt soft like silk. I stood there in the water for a long time. It was so peaceful. I continued to plod along the trail, exploring and finding places to climb into the water again and again. My troubles melted away.

Why hadn’t I thought to take my shoes off sooner? Now, in my bare feet, I was transported back in time to a place where I was free. Throughout my childhood, my parents had given me a place to explore freely, and I had embraced it. It was a world where I breathed the fresh air, played in the water, climbed trees and felt the earth between my toes. I lived in my bare feet. Most of the obstacles in this world could be easily surmounted; I simply climbed over them. Love embraces me; surrounded me. I loved the animals, the fish, the birds, and the people in my world. People loved me back. They spoke the truth. I didn’t question whether they truly cared for me. There were no countries, no boundaries, no politics, no fighting (other than some sibling sparring). There was no judging, no drama, no manipulation, no sabotage. I was truly blessed. Love was eternal, unconditional. No one controlled me; they wanted the best for me. As long as I followed some simple and reasonable rules, life was really good.

I felt so alive being barefoot on this winding trail that reminded me of a better time in my life. Remembering it began to fill me with confidence again. The fear of slipping and falling into the river evaporated. My feet were sure and expertly navigated the trail. My feet could breathe again! I could breathe deeply in the fresh air too. This is how I was meant to breathe. I began to feel like myself again and I was filled with peace. I remembered I was someone worthy of being loved. After all, my parents had loved me. Out here in my bare feet, I could finally connect with that love!

As I walked along and waded in the river, the evening was beautiful and perfect. No one could wreck it or make it look ugly. There was no agenda, no threats, no attacks, no criticism. I didn’t mind at all being alone. The love, faith and freedom my parents had given to me, filled me up. I remembered who I was. And who I still am. And I was free!

This river had changed. It wasn’t the same river I had walked along so many times before. Time had passed. The path of the river had changed. I had changed. My recent life experiences were very different from those of my childhood. I had lost people who had chosen to leave me and didn’t love me anymore; and maybe never really did. It hadn’t occurred to me that this was even possible, but it had happened, nonetheless. I now lived in a world where I had to watch my back at all times, could trust very few, and love was anything but a certainty. People have many agendas. The loves I had lost, the experiences we’d shared, were gone for good. The pieces of us whispered in the trees and the water, now only a memory. I had loved as completely as my parents had loved me. I felt my feet on the warm earth and felt like it was time to say goodbye. This loss would always be a part of me, but I decided to leave the memories, the hopes and dreams, along with my tears. I walked away and left them by the river. I watched them float away.

The late evening sunshine glittered on the water. I believed that somewhere out there, exists someone just like me.

As I headed back towards my car, my heart was filled with peace. I really should have taken my shoes off sooner. It’s been such a long time. In my bare feet, I had found myself again. I am loved. I am strong. I am free!

After my hike I walked over to get some ice cream before heading home. Homemade butter pecan ice cream cone, which used to be my mom’s favorite. I sat on a picnic table and ate it, watching some fishermen fish in the steadily flowing river. I thoroughly enjoyed every bit! Here’s to you Mom! Happy Fourth of July! God Bless my parents, my family, my friends, my home and my country. God bless America!

“Never be the person who doesn’t do the wave. Those people die alone.” — Phil Dunphy

“Selflessness is humility. Humility and freedom go hand in hand. Only a humble person can be free.” —-Jeff Wilson

Lisa Calice, E-RYT200, BFA, CDP. Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/LisaCaliceYoga/ Twitter: @lisacyogini Instagram:https://www.instagram.com/lifewithlisayogini/

Visit ilovepete’s shop, for cool artwork on awesome products! https://www.redbubble.com/people/ilovepete/shop

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Giving Thanks…for the Love of My Family Touched by Adoption

November is National Adoption Awareness Month and my family has been touched by Adoption.

Adoption gave me the opportunity to be a parent, it gave my parents the opportunity to be grandparents, and it gave three kids from Ukraine an opportunity to have someone to consistently love them and to care for them. However imperfect our family may have been, my kids were very truly loved. They may not remember it, but they were loved by extended family and many friends as well.

In a conversation with my Dad, we were discussing a recent rough patch in my life and he said, “…at least you had a good childhood and parents who loved you. So many kids never even had that.” The powerful truth of his words was not lost on me. Having a parent or parents who love you enough to want you and to raise you and to give you their all; this remains with you all your life. Adoption means every child deserves this chance. Even if your first parents let you down for whatever reason, there’s a chance for you to have this kind of love. I feel this love my parents have for me, every day of my life. Whatever happens in their lives, I always hope my love for my kids will follow them every day of their lives.

Adoption is an amazing option and I am grateful to have built my family through adoption. I remember that after years of disappointment that things were not going to turn out the way I had planned, there was an equally beautiful and amazing plan that God must have had for me all along. When I realized just how many children on this earth do not have parents or families to love and care for them, it was astounding to me. How could I spend another moment trying in vain to bring another child into the world when all of these kids are waiting for a mom, just like I am waiting for a child? When you think of it that way, my kids and I were really waiting for each other. We just didn’t know it yet.

For every family touched by adoption, there is a moment when the tide turns, the stars align, the pieces of the puzzle suddenly fall into place, and the moment of clarity arrives. I am not the most outgoing or heroic person, but divine intervention picked up where my courage left off, and guided me to Ukraine. When I met my three children, I had not a single doubt that they were mine. Did I doubt my ability to communicate, to cook, to keep up with my kids? You bet I did! Doesn’t every parent have those feelings?

I still remember twenty long years ago like it was yesterday. I remember the sights, the sounds, the smells of their homeland, Ukraine. I remember thinking how very much my Ukrainian grandfather would have loved to meet them, and I knew he was smiling down upon me on that cold November 12th day. I remember the Children’s Home in Cherkasy, and the many children we left behind. I remember the joy in taking three of them home with me; the three that were mine. At the moment the judge approved the adoption, my kids became my entire world. Even though they were older, I did my best to cram a lifetime into the short years we had together.

It is with tremendous gratitude that I share this excerpt from my journal from the day I met my kids for the first time:

“I later wrote: “Today I met my kids. I think that sentence says more than I could write in a book; MY KIDS – those have to be the two most beautiful words in the English language. MY KIDS…I will say it
over and over again until I believe it myself…”
I can find no words to describe with any accuracy, that moment when my children entered my life forever.
The caregivers brought Olena in first. I can still hear her footsteps as she came through the doorway of the
room where we were waiting, and without hesitating, hurled her slender body across the wooden floor and
into mine. She slammed into me so hard she knocked the wind right out of me, and then her body seemed
to melt into me and there are no more words to say after that, only tears. There she was, almost 4 feet tall, sweating in her red snow pants. No matter how heavy she felt or how much we both sweated, she kept her
soft, small cheek pressed tightly against mine and ran her fingers through my hair as if to make sure I was real. My two younger children, Lina and Vlady, entered my life in similar fashion. If I had had any doubt, their embraces dispelled it. I went back to our hotel that night dreaming of their sweet, happy faces.“

November 12, 1999

Whenever I have doubts or regrets, or feel sad about how some things turned out as time passed, my memories of those first moments and even years together as a family fill me with gratitude every time. They were just as happy to have me as I was to have them. They wanted to be held and loved as much as I wanted to hold and to love them. Many a tear was wiped away, many a bedtime song was sung, story read, boo-boo kissed. The time and the love we shared, the things the four of us did together, the jungle gym in the backyard, riding bikes, swimming at the lake, going to the park, playing games, walking our dogs, the many hours spent with grandparents, aunts and uncles…my memories hardly can do it all justice.

As years passed, I often received criticism, some deserved, some not, for the kind of parent I’ve been. I humbly embrace my flaws. I will say despite my mistakes, there is no doubt in the world these kids of mine were loved. No one could have loved them more than I have, and I am quite certain that no one ever will. In spite of all that’s gone wrong, or whether they like me or not at times, my kids will always be loved. There’s also no doubt that we can have gratitude for being loved by an entire family. After all, it isn’t the gifts, the toys, the material things (most of which are in a landfill by now) that matter at all. Isn’t love what makes life worthwhile? Through this love, and through adoption, this Mom had the most perfect little family on earth. Today I am so thankful for my family and for this beautiful journey of love.

Every kid deserves to have this kind of love.

By Lisa Calice, Adoptive Mom Extraordinaire