Today was a good reminder that life is a journey and not an end result. While I usually like the process, I need to rediscover my love for hills. Several lessons about God have been doing laps in my head and I can't help but look behind me to make sure I'll finish the race without getting run over. (Track is on my mind.)
1) God is enough. Unless it's a jelly donut, usually holes are best filled with Him.
2) God doesn't ask of us more than he can do through us. We're not puppets, manipulated with choice but we are clay to be molded, fired and set through circumstances all for his purposes.
3) God asks us to be present here and now, living and offering what we have. Right now I'm a coach so I can workout with athletes and be available. I am a student so I can work with integrity. Even if I struggle with French lessons, I have teeth, a tongue and vocal chords so I can practice. Maybe God will help me speak in "tongues."
Sometimes ideas that run in circles keep us from moving forward in a productive and faithful way. But when God runs laps, He usually wants to make a message very clear. I get it- muscle memory. And my soul is definitely a muscle. I feel it's soreness, the stretching and the growth.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Heaven to earth
I have links to Haiti. My college roommate is a nurse plus more at an orphanage. Friends from a North Carolina church flew in the morning before the first earthquake and are pitching in wherever they can, delivering babies, food, love. A classmate here worked in Haiti for the last two summers and reminded me of their culture which is infested with witch doctors.
In his blog post with Sojourners, Tony Compolo reported, "Haiti’s former dictator, Jean-Claude Duvalier, was a voodoo witchdoctor, and when he was driven from power it was widely rumored that he offered an infant boy as a blood sacrifice to Satan, and cursed the country with an evil spell to bring disasters and suffering upon the Haitian people." As Tony later says, it strange to believe in such sorcery but the Haitians do. So how does their mindset change in the midst of the current chaos and destruction?
Love.
And though simply put, we humans have a lot to learn about loving thoroughly, fully, unconditionally. I'm grateful for my fiends being God's hands and feet in Haiti right now. I pray we will respond in a helpful and meaningful way. But more than anything, I hope we're in the way just the right way for God to use us to love.
May it be true in Haiti, Helena, or on Hawthorne Rd.
Words have not come easily for me concerning Haiti and all it represents or is. But somehow, this song/poem came to me as I sang the final line of the praise song "Shout to the North."
He's the Lord of Heaven and Earth
What does this mean when people are suffering? What does this mean in chaos and pain? How is there heaven right here on earth when everything seems so insane?
Heaven can’t be that far away.
Heaven is meant to be here.
Heaven can’t be a distant place
Since heavenly love draws us near.
What does it mean for him to be Lord? What does it mean to be all knowing? What does it mean to have all of the power if all of the might is not showing?
Heaven can’t be a stranger.
Heaven knows me and you.
Heaven can’t be just an idea.
Heaven must live in me, too.
What does this mean for our lives today? What does it matter to me? If He’s the Lord as He says that He is, can’t heaven to earth come easily?
Heaven can’t be for just a few.
Heaven needs my own skill.
Heaven won’t be stopped by sin.
Heaven on earth is His will.
In his blog post with Sojourners, Tony Compolo reported, "Haiti’s former dictator, Jean-Claude Duvalier, was a voodoo witchdoctor, and when he was driven from power it was widely rumored that he offered an infant boy as a blood sacrifice to Satan, and cursed the country with an evil spell to bring disasters and suffering upon the Haitian people." As Tony later says, it strange to believe in such sorcery but the Haitians do. So how does their mindset change in the midst of the current chaos and destruction?
Love.
And though simply put, we humans have a lot to learn about loving thoroughly, fully, unconditionally. I'm grateful for my fiends being God's hands and feet in Haiti right now. I pray we will respond in a helpful and meaningful way. But more than anything, I hope we're in the way just the right way for God to use us to love.
May it be true in Haiti, Helena, or on Hawthorne Rd.
Words have not come easily for me concerning Haiti and all it represents or is. But somehow, this song/poem came to me as I sang the final line of the praise song "Shout to the North."
He's the Lord of Heaven and Earth
What does this mean when people are suffering? What does this mean in chaos and pain? How is there heaven right here on earth when everything seems so insane?
Heaven can’t be that far away.
Heaven is meant to be here.
Heaven can’t be a distant place
Since heavenly love draws us near.
What does it mean for him to be Lord? What does it mean to be all knowing? What does it mean to have all of the power if all of the might is not showing?
Heaven can’t be a stranger.
Heaven knows me and you.
Heaven can’t be just an idea.
Heaven must live in me, too.
What does this mean for our lives today? What does it matter to me? If He’s the Lord as He says that He is, can’t heaven to earth come easily?
Heaven can’t be for just a few.
Heaven needs my own skill.
Heaven won’t be stopped by sin.
Heaven on earth is His will.
Monday, January 18, 2010
the other 1/2
What now? I’m juiced to run a marathon. But how? Great question…
Physical Training:
* Hills: More hills, more often. There are very few courses that are all flat and really, in the scheme of 13 or 26 miles even the slightest incline can seem like a mountain. I’m looking forward to doing some short hilly workouts; it’s a joy I acquired as a high school athlete. Every Monday was the hill workout. Go big or go home.
* Sprints: Not an oxymoron for a long distance race. Moving ones legs in a different motion as in up like high knees verses scuffling along the ground is important to maintain pace and sprint over the finish line. Sometimes those surges in the midst of a long mundane course are just what the body and mind needs to refocus.
* Weights: Strength and endurance for long distance racing doesn’t come with just added miles. Weight lifting for aerobic growth and muscle strength will allow my legs to climb the “wall” through miles 20-24 and improve recovery.
Mental and Spiritual Training:
* Good Job! As silly and “self-help bookish” as it sounds, positive self talk goes a long way…26.2 miles long. In this last race, I told my legs about every 2 miles that they were doing well, rocking my life, making me happy. I don’t know if my gastrocnemius (the tops of calves and one of my favorite anatomical words) have ears, but they kept going and so did I. The moments of pain or boredom must be counteracted fast before a poison worse than lactic acid seeps through the body and soul. How will I incorporate it into life? A mirror shot will be followed by “you’re beautiful even when I first roll out of bed.” A project accomplished will receive a pat on the back. Small encouragement matters especially to your own person.
* Give Thanks: Always. The night before I ran I couldn’t fall asleep. All sorts of thoughts raced through my mind (details I’m sure will come in other blogs) but the overall theme of my thoughts was thanksgiving. Why am I blessed to have 2 legs that allow me to run? Who am I to have friends from all over the world wishing me well? How lucky am I to live in a country where I can run without fear or out of fear?
* Know my pace: Just like the pace I kept during my race, I also found clear, focused moments to think about God, his presence in the world and my life. These were undisturbed moments that came with ease because I had the time (2 hours of it) to think. For me, running is the best place for such reveling in God and seeking his wisdom. For others 20-minute showers are essential or a long drive. It’s easy to get off pace, become lazy or develop bad habits when time with God is actually just an event to check off on the to-do list.
Of course these training goals overlap. The pain of running hills has a similar reality in life and takes courage to just get up (the hill or out of bed). Strengthening my bodily muscles is necessary for a healthy body, but stretching a strengthening my spiritual muscles can’t be neglected either.
I look forward to the next stage. A new opportunity to train, improve where I slacked, learn from the past experience and remember the energy I feel right now when in 7 weeks I’m dragging, complaining or simply refusing to put in the effort. God will give me strength for the journey, both physically and spiritually, but I have to be willing to put on my running shoes.
Physical Training:
* Hills: More hills, more often. There are very few courses that are all flat and really, in the scheme of 13 or 26 miles even the slightest incline can seem like a mountain. I’m looking forward to doing some short hilly workouts; it’s a joy I acquired as a high school athlete. Every Monday was the hill workout. Go big or go home.
* Sprints: Not an oxymoron for a long distance race. Moving ones legs in a different motion as in up like high knees verses scuffling along the ground is important to maintain pace and sprint over the finish line. Sometimes those surges in the midst of a long mundane course are just what the body and mind needs to refocus.
* Weights: Strength and endurance for long distance racing doesn’t come with just added miles. Weight lifting for aerobic growth and muscle strength will allow my legs to climb the “wall” through miles 20-24 and improve recovery.
Mental and Spiritual Training:
* Good Job! As silly and “self-help bookish” as it sounds, positive self talk goes a long way…26.2 miles long. In this last race, I told my legs about every 2 miles that they were doing well, rocking my life, making me happy. I don’t know if my gastrocnemius (the tops of calves and one of my favorite anatomical words) have ears, but they kept going and so did I. The moments of pain or boredom must be counteracted fast before a poison worse than lactic acid seeps through the body and soul. How will I incorporate it into life? A mirror shot will be followed by “you’re beautiful even when I first roll out of bed.” A project accomplished will receive a pat on the back. Small encouragement matters especially to your own person.
* Give Thanks: Always. The night before I ran I couldn’t fall asleep. All sorts of thoughts raced through my mind (details I’m sure will come in other blogs) but the overall theme of my thoughts was thanksgiving. Why am I blessed to have 2 legs that allow me to run? Who am I to have friends from all over the world wishing me well? How lucky am I to live in a country where I can run without fear or out of fear?
* Know my pace: Just like the pace I kept during my race, I also found clear, focused moments to think about God, his presence in the world and my life. These were undisturbed moments that came with ease because I had the time (2 hours of it) to think. For me, running is the best place for such reveling in God and seeking his wisdom. For others 20-minute showers are essential or a long drive. It’s easy to get off pace, become lazy or develop bad habits when time with God is actually just an event to check off on the to-do list.
Of course these training goals overlap. The pain of running hills has a similar reality in life and takes courage to just get up (the hill or out of bed). Strengthening my bodily muscles is necessary for a healthy body, but stretching a strengthening my spiritual muscles can’t be neglected either.
I look forward to the next stage. A new opportunity to train, improve where I slacked, learn from the past experience and remember the energy I feel right now when in 7 weeks I’m dragging, complaining or simply refusing to put in the effort. God will give me strength for the journey, both physically and spiritually, but I have to be willing to put on my running shoes.
1/2 (:) the run down
My first ever ½ marathon invoked various emotions, most of which involved great joy and gratitude. Even though sickness and travel arrangements got in the way, I felt and knew support from all over the world for which I am utterly grateful. A support team is always fun, but I never realized how important until I stepped up to the line with 21,000 of my closest friends.
I woke up early and couldn’t fall back to sleep, as I had read the night before in a running magazine. The author’s suggestion was to get up, so I did and ate. The weird thing about running so far is no amount of energy is left unused. So while I had a large pasta dinner the night before, I knew without a relatively substantial breakfast, I might not make it to see lunch, at least not one of solid foods. With about an hour before the start, I made my way to the start line. I passed the first corner of the marathon race where the elite runners sprinted around. Again, for a sprinter myself come to participate in such a long distant event, I was overwhelmed by their quickness. But I didn’t need to fret over the pace as I saw Elvis in white spandex come dancing by and mom, dad, grandma and grandpa all joining in the race. Some people were already walking less than 800 m from the start. To each his own; being in the race is impressive enough.
I waited in the outhouse line. It’s a must. A) for the experience of standing with hundreds of other people to get rid of that last bit of breakfast or coffee before it escaped from lack of control B) well covered it. About 7 gals in front of me all looked like they had come out of the same pink polyester outlet store but none of them knew each other. Racers line up by estimated finish times so I was in corral 5 out of at least 25 hoping to come across at 1:57. The gun went off and we trotted forward, corral-by-corral until the wave surged over the start line. I had been instructed to go slow the first mile and make it up at the end. “It’s all about math,” which is true. 9 min. miles give me about a 1:57 race time. So would a 10 min first mile and 8 min last mile. Well, I came across at 8:22 and realized I either better slow down or keep a steady pace for another 12.1 miles. I decided the latter idea sounded more exciting and so for the rest of the race I ran a sub 9 min mile averaging 8:38. Numbers are immaterial to most, but if you like math, have fun.
Highlights along the race.
The start: I rocked out to the Glee soundtrack dancing a little and singing all the while finding my pace and running buddies to chase or pass.
Mile 3 and 4: I hurt. That’s no good. I still had 10 miles to go so early on I had to dig in.
Mile 6.5: My legs wanted to slow down so out came the raisins. Everyone has their own way to refuel, essential for long races, but I found raisins to be the best for me. At least they’re great when I’m not running in sub-freezing weather when they become hard.
Mile 8: My favorite marker. I even did a bit of a jump, booster step. I had 5 miles left. That’s less than 45 minutes. I CAN DO IT!
Mile 12.8: Kick it baby….
Mile 13: Really kicked it. I passed quite a few people and finished the race in 1:53:04.
Post-race: My legs and knees cried, maybe screamed. It’s hard to tell under so much sweat and twitching muscle. They certainly weren’t happy campers, but a little ice and a nap seemed to calm everything down a bit. I could have done a better recovery but the attempt at a running cool down just reminded me that such activity was off the “things to do” list at least for 48 hrs. Thankfully I get to rejuvenate in the pool tomorrow.
I woke up early and couldn’t fall back to sleep, as I had read the night before in a running magazine. The author’s suggestion was to get up, so I did and ate. The weird thing about running so far is no amount of energy is left unused. So while I had a large pasta dinner the night before, I knew without a relatively substantial breakfast, I might not make it to see lunch, at least not one of solid foods. With about an hour before the start, I made my way to the start line. I passed the first corner of the marathon race where the elite runners sprinted around. Again, for a sprinter myself come to participate in such a long distant event, I was overwhelmed by their quickness. But I didn’t need to fret over the pace as I saw Elvis in white spandex come dancing by and mom, dad, grandma and grandpa all joining in the race. Some people were already walking less than 800 m from the start. To each his own; being in the race is impressive enough.
I waited in the outhouse line. It’s a must. A) for the experience of standing with hundreds of other people to get rid of that last bit of breakfast or coffee before it escaped from lack of control B) well covered it. About 7 gals in front of me all looked like they had come out of the same pink polyester outlet store but none of them knew each other. Racers line up by estimated finish times so I was in corral 5 out of at least 25 hoping to come across at 1:57. The gun went off and we trotted forward, corral-by-corral until the wave surged over the start line. I had been instructed to go slow the first mile and make it up at the end. “It’s all about math,” which is true. 9 min. miles give me about a 1:57 race time. So would a 10 min first mile and 8 min last mile. Well, I came across at 8:22 and realized I either better slow down or keep a steady pace for another 12.1 miles. I decided the latter idea sounded more exciting and so for the rest of the race I ran a sub 9 min mile averaging 8:38. Numbers are immaterial to most, but if you like math, have fun.
Highlights along the race.
The start: I rocked out to the Glee soundtrack dancing a little and singing all the while finding my pace and running buddies to chase or pass.
Mile 3 and 4: I hurt. That’s no good. I still had 10 miles to go so early on I had to dig in.
Mile 6.5: My legs wanted to slow down so out came the raisins. Everyone has their own way to refuel, essential for long races, but I found raisins to be the best for me. At least they’re great when I’m not running in sub-freezing weather when they become hard.
Mile 8: My favorite marker. I even did a bit of a jump, booster step. I had 5 miles left. That’s less than 45 minutes. I CAN DO IT!
Mile 12.8: Kick it baby….
Mile 13: Really kicked it. I passed quite a few people and finished the race in 1:53:04.
Post-race: My legs and knees cried, maybe screamed. It’s hard to tell under so much sweat and twitching muscle. They certainly weren’t happy campers, but a little ice and a nap seemed to calm everything down a bit. I could have done a better recovery but the attempt at a running cool down just reminded me that such activity was off the “things to do” list at least for 48 hrs. Thankfully I get to rejuvenate in the pool tomorrow.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Beautiful Feet
Last October I looked through my roommate's Runner’s World where I found an advertisement for a marathon. An epiphany came to me that 26 miles would be a perfect distance to run for my 26th birthday. Well, I looked at a training plan and realized 12 weeks wasn’t sufficient for me at that current physical state to run a full marathon, but I could half it to run 13.1 miles. Since 13 is my favorite number, I saw this as a perfect starting point before the full meal-deal. I run the ½ marathon in a week on January 17 in Phoenix, AZ.
As crazy as this sounds to many of my dearest friends, many of whom are grateful they get to make pancakes for my post-hour-long-run breakfast, I have a deeper motivation and hopefully an inspiration to share. One of my favorite scripture verses is found in Romans 10:15 “How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news?” This verse compels me to run, not because my feet are pretty, but because of what I can do by moving from point A to point B. I can spread the good news about Christ. Lately I’ve been trying to make it through training for this first long race. It’s only by the strength and sometimes distraction of Jesus that allows me to finish a 7-mile workout. But I know this gift of running and honed discipline is for more than just making me look good. It’s to make Jesus look good.
I am determined to finish the ½ marathon as the first step toward running 26.2 miles in the next 5 months. I have not chosen a marathon yet, but I have chosen the reason for running. To have beautiful feet bringing good news. How will I accomplish this? For each mile I run during training I am going to save $0.26. For the marathon itself, I would like to gather sponsors to pledge for each mile. A dollar a mile is $26. This money will fund an educational mission trip this summer.
I have a strong desire and calling not only to spread the good news myself, but also to include other beautiful feet. Ever since I went to Colorado as a 13 year-old on my first mission trip, I discovered that visiting other cultures, learning from the people and investing in their lives was deeply important to the work done by the body of Christ. On top of that, I realize more and more that many people never have an opportunity or the encouragement to learn about God’s world from the experiential perspective. How beautiful will those feet be in the red Ugandan dirt? How warm will they feel in the El Salvadorian sand? I must know and I desperately want others to know, first hand and foot.
If anyone cares to join me in this venture, run alongside as a cyber running buddy and/or make a pledge to the Beautiful Feet Fund, I greatly appreciate it. Stay tuned for more details. I believe our endeavors will be richly blessed because we are promised beauty even on some of the grossest, smelliest parts of our body just by sharing good news of love, hope and peace. Nothing is too crazy for God.
If God invented marathons to keep people from doing anything more stupid, the triathlon must have taken Him completely by surprise. ~P.Z. Pearce
As crazy as this sounds to many of my dearest friends, many of whom are grateful they get to make pancakes for my post-hour-long-run breakfast, I have a deeper motivation and hopefully an inspiration to share. One of my favorite scripture verses is found in Romans 10:15 “How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news?” This verse compels me to run, not because my feet are pretty, but because of what I can do by moving from point A to point B. I can spread the good news about Christ. Lately I’ve been trying to make it through training for this first long race. It’s only by the strength and sometimes distraction of Jesus that allows me to finish a 7-mile workout. But I know this gift of running and honed discipline is for more than just making me look good. It’s to make Jesus look good.
I am determined to finish the ½ marathon as the first step toward running 26.2 miles in the next 5 months. I have not chosen a marathon yet, but I have chosen the reason for running. To have beautiful feet bringing good news. How will I accomplish this? For each mile I run during training I am going to save $0.26. For the marathon itself, I would like to gather sponsors to pledge for each mile. A dollar a mile is $26. This money will fund an educational mission trip this summer.
I have a strong desire and calling not only to spread the good news myself, but also to include other beautiful feet. Ever since I went to Colorado as a 13 year-old on my first mission trip, I discovered that visiting other cultures, learning from the people and investing in their lives was deeply important to the work done by the body of Christ. On top of that, I realize more and more that many people never have an opportunity or the encouragement to learn about God’s world from the experiential perspective. How beautiful will those feet be in the red Ugandan dirt? How warm will they feel in the El Salvadorian sand? I must know and I desperately want others to know, first hand and foot.
If anyone cares to join me in this venture, run alongside as a cyber running buddy and/or make a pledge to the Beautiful Feet Fund, I greatly appreciate it. Stay tuned for more details. I believe our endeavors will be richly blessed because we are promised beauty even on some of the grossest, smelliest parts of our body just by sharing good news of love, hope and peace. Nothing is too crazy for God.
If God invented marathons to keep people from doing anything more stupid, the triathlon must have taken Him completely by surprise. ~P.Z. Pearce
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Birthday Eve
Tomorrow is one of those most special of days where I thank my mom for sticking in there, past Christmas and New Year’s, and my dad for going to dinner with Kerry, I mean standing by her side while she gave birth to a little princess. *sigh*
So on the eve of this 26th birthday I sing out my thanks and ponder the year ahead. Monumental birthdays come with flair, like 16 and 21, 40 and 50, whereas many numbers don’t arouse such enthusiasm. As anyone every said, I’m 22! Woohoo! Big party. I’m 53. Let’s celebrate. They’re not landmark years. 26 could fit into that category. It’s a rather even, dull number. But it puts me in a new age bracket. I now join the millions of other in their “late 20s.” Oh my, yes, late. Is it 10pm yet? It got me thinking, late for what? Am I supposed to have a certain number of things marked off the proverbial checklist by today? Should I have more shoes and children, less homework and packages of Top Ramen? Actually, I’m still early to those really “Late-20s” who are 29. They’re WAY later, right?
I know this is silly but significant or not, this birthday is yet another reminder of two important things:
1) I have breath enough to see 26! Amen. I might even have enough breath to run 4 miles.
2) I have this day to live thoroughly, boldly, and intentionally. 26 2/365ths is up in the air (I’ll let you know on Wednesday), but today is here, ready for me. It hasn’t been waiting like I was late. I get to experience it brand new for it has never happened and will never happen again. That's reason to celebrate, birthday or not. I'm lucky for the reminder of this birth date to refocus and examine this day and those to follow (hopefully) how I actually show gratitude to God for my life. How do I live purposefully? How do I live with focus on the present and great expectation for the future? How do I see myself in God's eyes, on his clock, in his world? Do I see myself as late and old or perfectly chosen for the now?
So on the eve of this 26th birthday I sing out my thanks and ponder the year ahead. Monumental birthdays come with flair, like 16 and 21, 40 and 50, whereas many numbers don’t arouse such enthusiasm. As anyone every said, I’m 22! Woohoo! Big party. I’m 53. Let’s celebrate. They’re not landmark years. 26 could fit into that category. It’s a rather even, dull number. But it puts me in a new age bracket. I now join the millions of other in their “late 20s.” Oh my, yes, late. Is it 10pm yet? It got me thinking, late for what? Am I supposed to have a certain number of things marked off the proverbial checklist by today? Should I have more shoes and children, less homework and packages of Top Ramen? Actually, I’m still early to those really “Late-20s” who are 29. They’re WAY later, right?
I know this is silly but significant or not, this birthday is yet another reminder of two important things:
1) I have breath enough to see 26! Amen. I might even have enough breath to run 4 miles.
2) I have this day to live thoroughly, boldly, and intentionally. 26 2/365ths is up in the air (I’ll let you know on Wednesday), but today is here, ready for me. It hasn’t been waiting like I was late. I get to experience it brand new for it has never happened and will never happen again. That's reason to celebrate, birthday or not. I'm lucky for the reminder of this birth date to refocus and examine this day and those to follow (hopefully) how I actually show gratitude to God for my life. How do I live purposefully? How do I live with focus on the present and great expectation for the future? How do I see myself in God's eyes, on his clock, in his world? Do I see myself as late and old or perfectly chosen for the now?
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Depends
I have this job. Scratch that.
I have this life that reminds me a little of wearing Depends. I only just thought of this analogy though I’ve been contemplating the idea dependence for some time. Depends are essential for those who need them so save oneself from embarrassment, mess, and unexplainable loss of control. Who knew a tool that has worked with you your whole life, disappears without even leaving a note. Now, I don’t have personal experience with these “undergarments” but my grandmother wore them and I’ve heard many stories from folks discussing the utter, well, disappointment in needing them. They’re unwanted but most necessary.
Life feels like that sometimes. When I went to the jungle I discovered all the many ways people have learned to fend for themselves in the woods, hunting, finding medicine, and simply surviving. What a lovely life without the dependence on a cell phone, committee meetings or near-by gas stations. Just earth and me. But life is more like Depends because responsibilities and opportunities are lived out solo. They require transactions, give and take, and dependence.
Sometimes I like this feeling and situation. I love knowing that my Dad will always buy popcorn when we go to the movies and I don’t have to fork over the $10 for a bag. I am thankful I can depend on my local grocery store for stocking the shelves and keeping the fruit fresh.
Yet, dependence comes with a price. Humility. At times I have to graciously consent to help. More oft than that I have to ask for assistance. But mostly, I live in a world where I can’t do my job without other people playing their part. I can’t make music without an entire band. I can’t win a meet or even hold a meet without any teammates. I can’t get a hug from the air. That just irks me. I’m a person who is pretty self-reliant. I don’t want for much (come see my empty dwelling) and I’m fairly confident in my skills. But at the end of the day, all that I want and need to do requires other people. Like Depends, they can be there or not, but I’m much worse off if they remain absent. In this struggle, I can find myself seeking ways to be more NON-dependent and content with such solitude. Yet, as I lay my head down to sleep, I’m reminded many of the joys in my day came from others in a direct way.
So what do I do about this required dependence? Do I rattle my dentures at them, complaining and wishing for the glory days…how were they different? Do I embrace the dependence as a way to connect with other people? Do I live humbly? Do I give thanks that I don’t have to and CAN’T make it independently?
I have this life that reminds me a little of wearing Depends. I only just thought of this analogy though I’ve been contemplating the idea dependence for some time. Depends are essential for those who need them so save oneself from embarrassment, mess, and unexplainable loss of control. Who knew a tool that has worked with you your whole life, disappears without even leaving a note. Now, I don’t have personal experience with these “undergarments” but my grandmother wore them and I’ve heard many stories from folks discussing the utter, well, disappointment in needing them. They’re unwanted but most necessary.
Life feels like that sometimes. When I went to the jungle I discovered all the many ways people have learned to fend for themselves in the woods, hunting, finding medicine, and simply surviving. What a lovely life without the dependence on a cell phone, committee meetings or near-by gas stations. Just earth and me. But life is more like Depends because responsibilities and opportunities are lived out solo. They require transactions, give and take, and dependence.
Sometimes I like this feeling and situation. I love knowing that my Dad will always buy popcorn when we go to the movies and I don’t have to fork over the $10 for a bag. I am thankful I can depend on my local grocery store for stocking the shelves and keeping the fruit fresh.
Yet, dependence comes with a price. Humility. At times I have to graciously consent to help. More oft than that I have to ask for assistance. But mostly, I live in a world where I can’t do my job without other people playing their part. I can’t make music without an entire band. I can’t win a meet or even hold a meet without any teammates. I can’t get a hug from the air. That just irks me. I’m a person who is pretty self-reliant. I don’t want for much (come see my empty dwelling) and I’m fairly confident in my skills. But at the end of the day, all that I want and need to do requires other people. Like Depends, they can be there or not, but I’m much worse off if they remain absent. In this struggle, I can find myself seeking ways to be more NON-dependent and content with such solitude. Yet, as I lay my head down to sleep, I’m reminded many of the joys in my day came from others in a direct way.
So what do I do about this required dependence? Do I rattle my dentures at them, complaining and wishing for the glory days…how were they different? Do I embrace the dependence as a way to connect with other people? Do I live humbly? Do I give thanks that I don’t have to and CAN’T make it independently?
Sunday, January 3, 2010
_____ of Wonder
This morning I provided a message for the young disciples of the church. Older, retired couples whose kids have long been out of the house and the category of “young disciples” often attend the first service. However, one couple come faithfully with their two small children, one who goes to the nursery while the older sister with my name stays with her parents. It happened that the two Sarahs were the only ones sitting on the steps at the front of the church, but I didn’t keep our conversation from the rest of the congregation. Doing the children’s message is a great act of improvisation. While I have a topic and fairly good idea of what I might say, the many variables of number of children, age, and participatory personalities require a great deal of flexibility.
How do I explain the Trinity to a 4 year-old, a 8 year-old, a 44 year-old?
Today’s topic revolved around the Three Kings, as today is the Sunday on which we celebrate Epiphany. For my now liturgical friends, Epiphany is the day in the church calendar given to celebrate the King’s arrival to Jesus. The Orthodox Church celebrates the baptism of Christ on Jan. 6 while the Roman Catholic and eventually the Protestant believe this day is when the Magi came to visit. Regardless, it’s a celebration of the revelation of God in Man.
I wanted to explain to the young ones how God revealed his plan to the Kings. They are a great example of those who listened, obeyed and worshipped God- just the lifestyle he calls us to. Well, with just Sarah, I revised that idea immediately and tried to explain the word Epiphany as an “Ah Ha!” moment. Like a big light bulb over a person’s head. Sarah thankfully hasn’t watched enough cartoons to know about the light bulb image so I asked her if she knew what the Kings followed to find Jesus.
“Ants.”
Well, I recovered and tried to plug that thought in just enough to make a simple point, wrap up and pray. Ants. Wow! I went back to my seat, thinking about her response. From her perspective, that seemed just as plausible as a big star in the sky. Come to think of it, both options are very mysterious, tiny in the perspective of the universe and yet both can be seen, followed, and admired in their own right. The star must have been amazingly brilliant in the night sky, making the others pale in comparison. Likewise, ants are tremendously persistent and diligent in their quest, making the surrounding objects look lazy and lifeless. Both attract the eye to mystery and provoke curiosity. And for any non-believer or skeptic both these options are unlikely and uncertain at best. Yet, whether a star or ants, they pointed to something bigger, a power and Creator that works in unexplainable ways.
I won’t forget Sarah’s answer anytime soon especially after imagining these old wise men bending over to watch the ants on a journey across the world. May we look up and down and all around to understand fully how God leads us.
How do I explain the Trinity to a 4 year-old, a 8 year-old, a 44 year-old?
Today’s topic revolved around the Three Kings, as today is the Sunday on which we celebrate Epiphany. For my now liturgical friends, Epiphany is the day in the church calendar given to celebrate the King’s arrival to Jesus. The Orthodox Church celebrates the baptism of Christ on Jan. 6 while the Roman Catholic and eventually the Protestant believe this day is when the Magi came to visit. Regardless, it’s a celebration of the revelation of God in Man.
I wanted to explain to the young ones how God revealed his plan to the Kings. They are a great example of those who listened, obeyed and worshipped God- just the lifestyle he calls us to. Well, with just Sarah, I revised that idea immediately and tried to explain the word Epiphany as an “Ah Ha!” moment. Like a big light bulb over a person’s head. Sarah thankfully hasn’t watched enough cartoons to know about the light bulb image so I asked her if she knew what the Kings followed to find Jesus.
“Ants.”
Well, I recovered and tried to plug that thought in just enough to make a simple point, wrap up and pray. Ants. Wow! I went back to my seat, thinking about her response. From her perspective, that seemed just as plausible as a big star in the sky. Come to think of it, both options are very mysterious, tiny in the perspective of the universe and yet both can be seen, followed, and admired in their own right. The star must have been amazingly brilliant in the night sky, making the others pale in comparison. Likewise, ants are tremendously persistent and diligent in their quest, making the surrounding objects look lazy and lifeless. Both attract the eye to mystery and provoke curiosity. And for any non-believer or skeptic both these options are unlikely and uncertain at best. Yet, whether a star or ants, they pointed to something bigger, a power and Creator that works in unexplainable ways.
I won’t forget Sarah’s answer anytime soon especially after imagining these old wise men bending over to watch the ants on a journey across the world. May we look up and down and all around to understand fully how God leads us.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)