My facebook has been all lit up with a bunch of folks running long distances this weekend.  I can't believe it was only 2 years ago I was off to VA beach to run my first half marathon (yes, I intend to do at least one more).   I just wanted to finish and have a decent experience.  Little did I know what God had in store!! That race marked a new turn in a wonderfully bizarre spiritual journey that has yet to play out.  I am just getting back into running after surgery and recovery - so while I'll not be on the road in person this year, I'll be there in spirit.  Below is my experience from my race 2 years ago, plus one of my favorite inspirational running songs.

The Race

So many of you asked about how the race went – and it was so awesome there is no one word answer!  So, here is a bit of my 13.1 mile experience:

Early Start:  I woke at 1:45am and never got back to sleep.  Nervous, me??? Yikes! Good thing I napped Saturday.  I got all the last minute race essentials in place and brewed the in-hotel room coffee (but only 1 cup – not good to OD on coffee unless you want to visit the port-o-john mid race!).

Headed out:  I left the hotel about 5:30am in the dark to walk the mile or so to the race check in.  Yikes it was WINDY – like 20+ mph.  My shamrock headband flew off my head and was promptly stashed in my bag till race start.

Ready to race:  The American Cancer Society DNation team had their own tent to collect our bags with “dry gear” (anything you don’t want to carry in your hands during the race, then they bring it to the finish line for you to get afterwards).  We took a group picture and headed to the race start!

RUN:  The first 3 miles were pretty easy – I went out fast but not too fast.  Got in a good groove, sun was finally up, wind was dying down, everyone was happy. Frankly, running folks are just so darn nice.  It was early (7am race start) so not so many spectators, but there were some – including folks handing out beer to runners as they passed by (I did not partake at this point…made me ill to think about it actually).

By Mile 4, I was on a total runner’s high – I totally rocked miles 4-8.  The play list was just right, there were bands on the sidelines to keep us going.  I ran negative splits for 5 miles – this means that I got faster with every additional mile.  This was “God moment” #1. I NEVER run negative splits.  NEVER.  By the end of Mile 8, I was running an 11 ½ minute mile pace – this is slow for many, but is practically a sprint in my world.  I was on pace to finish in under 2 ½ hours AND beat the time challenge from one of the survivors I was running for.  I was motivated for many miles at the thought of calling him up and telling him “I did it!”.

Mile 9 – At this point we were back into the wind by the coastline.  I started to slow down, but was still doing pretty well.  I had made a bib to wear on the back of my shirt called “Survivors and Saints” – with all the initials of the many folks I was running for.  I got a lot of comments from the people passing me on my shirt (yes, a lot of people passed me but I guess its OK since they saw the shirt!).  I thought a lot about how lucky I was to even be in that race.  I thought a lot about how just 2 years ago I never would have thought it was possible. 

Mile 10 – Started to feel it in the knees.  God moment #2 – “Run” by After the Chase came up on the play list – it is based on Isaiah 40:31.  I think I played it on repeat for the entire duration of Mile 10.  Truly, the only way my feet kept moving was God watching over me and putting little wings on my feet.  But I was slowing down.

Mile 11 – God moment #3 – and this is what did me in as far as meeting any time goal.  I got another comment on my shirt.  I grunted in appreciation.  Then I got asked a question if I had cancer.  SO, I grunt no as answer to her question.  [For the record, I DO NOT talk when I run.  I am the most unsocial runner ever.  Really, I can’t run and talk at the same time.  I talk too fast that it uses all my air for running!].  Then she starts to pass me and I hear her say she has cancer and then I see the bulge of her PICC line (the permanent IV line where you receive chemo usually).  My heart stops.  My feet barely manage a shuffle at this point as I am overwhelmed with emotion remembering exactly what that PICC line means – even the grind of flushing the line, and cleaning to prevent infection.  So much hope lies in that plastic tubing and I was SO thankful not to be a part of that world any more.  Trying desperately to compose myself so I can keep running, we run side by side for the briefest bit.  We chat as easily as one can when we each have music blaring in our ears.  She has lymphoma.  I tell her my husband was sick, she asks what kind.  She thought he was still sick – I felt an insane amount of guilt when I said he was 2 years cancer free.  I never did get her name.  She said “thanks for caring.”  Then I slowed down more and she pull away.

She changed the entire perspective of that race for me.  I pretty much walked the rest of the race trying not to cry like a baby the entire time.  I saw all the folks who passed me and just took it all in.  It was one of those rare moments when God is so present and you actually realize it WHILE it’s happening and not just after it’s all over.  I crossed the finish line physically exhausted (this was expected), emotionally drained (much more so than I thought I’d be), and spiritually fulfilled (more than I ever thought possible).

Hope for the Nameless

She said  "I dont have a name".  That was her response when I asked so I could pray for her. Maybe she just didn't want to tell me, but something about the way she said it made me feel like she really didn't think she had a name.

We had spent about 45 minutes talking about all kinds of things.  Global warming.  Movies. Travel.  Music. Life in California.  When she had a job.  And a place to live.

She was a guest at the FACETS hypothermia prevention site.  A service for homeless persons, to give them a meal and a place to sleep out of the cold weather.  Different churches rotate serving as hosts and providing the meals.  We were there as volunteers to help prepare and serve the meal.  But we were also encouraged to eat WITH the guests, and where a door was open, to engage them in conversation.

The evening had an auspicious start.  Two of us volunteers sat down, and almost right away two guests got up to go outside for a smoke.  The woman at the end of the table did not seem interested in talking.  So, my fellow volunteer and I talked mostly among ourselves.  

Then, we heard her ask, "Does anyone know if they are doing a bible study this week?  I heard they do a bible study.  I like bible study.  Sometimes people say things you would never think of yourself.  And they read a passage - usually a positive one."  There was never a more open door to start a conversation!

Just a few weeks earlier, my family was leaving Christmas Eve mass and encountered a couple with sign asking for money,  because they had a baby to take care of.  There they were.  Right on the church sidewalk.  As hundreds of people streamed out of church on one of the most holy nights of the year.  Anxiety and discomfort kicked in.  Heart strings tugged, and an old familiar cynicism lingered on the fringe.  It's these moments when I really don't like me.  What did we do?  Nothing.  In the car Greg and I sheepishly looked at each other with guilt reflected in each others' eyes.  We admit we never know what to do or say in that kind of siutation.  It happened again on New Year's Day.  Same couple.  I looked in my purse and realized I did not even have one dollar on me.  

I have written about my experience with homeless people before.  I still vividly remember the man on the corner  and the woman with the cats.  I still pray for them.  And I think I have learned from them.  I obviously still have a lot to learn.  Last night I was given a chance to learn a little bit more. 

Why does it seem so hard to figure out what to say in these situations?   While I listened to the woman talk last night, I felt a bit uncomfortable.  I was so self conscience of saying the wrong thing.  If I offered a comment that provided a glimpse into my own life, would it make her feel worse about her current condition? As the minutes went buy, I realized that I did not need to be so concerned about this. She was well read and aware of current events.  While it was obvious that she had some challenges mentally,  I had no idea the cause or what got her to this place, and it didn't seem necessary to ask.  And maybe that's the thing. This group was not hard core homeless, who have been on the street for years.  They were in the heart of Fairfax County, VA - one of the richest counties in the nation.  And they could be ANY one of us, who get caught in a bad place, and find themselves unable to get out.  Maybe that's why we don't know what to say.  We are afraid to admit that a few wrong turns could land us in the same spot?

"What I miss most is just relaxing on the couch in front of the TV".  Such a simple thing, that most us of take for granted.   I love relaxing in front of the TV.  This woman was no different.  In the end, we are no different.

I might not know her name, but as opposed to my previous experiences, at least this time I did ask.  And, by the end of the night, I felt much more comfortable talking with this group that had gathered.  I am still not sure what I will do the next time I am confronted with a homeless person.  But I am hopeful that after last night, next time it might be just a bit easier to do SOMETHING.  So that all those who feel nameless would realize that in Christ, we all have an identity and are called by name.

Make room for love!

"Thank you."

It should have been me saying those words.  After all, it was a friend who had stuck her arm through my car window to help me get off my coat.  [One of the "twisty" things I am still unable to do post-surgery).

She was thanking me for letting her help me.  Sigh.  That has stuck in my head this entire holiday season.  No one wants to need help from others.  When we do, we hope we accept it gracefully.

It is certainly no accident that I've spent the last 6 weeks learning how to receive gracefully - especially these last three weeks during Advent, when we are to be preparing and making room for the ultimate gift in the form of a baby.  A free gift to us, if we are just willing to receive it.

How many of us will be stubborn and think we don't need it?  How many of us continue to function as if we can do it all ourselves?

I read this last night - and it reinforced the lessons of the past few weeks...

"You can not receive a gift unless you have a place for it in your life.  You cannot learn anything if you think you know it all.  You cannot receive love unless you know there is a place in you that is empty and needs love to fill it." (John Buchanan, Christian Century)

 Who can't use a little more love in their world???

So, my Christmas wish for us all of us that we make room for the gift of love, that is given to us freely if we just accept it.

May you all have a blessed Christmas season and joyous New Year!

A Hard Nut to Crack

It's been an odd Advent.  Hampered in "doing" by my recovery from surgery, I have had the opportunity to do a lot of reading and reflecting.  I have been in midst of a personal quest for direction, which has lead to me to generate a pile of books that might help me get "answers".  And with the tragic events of the last few days, again I find myself looking every where to find "answers".

So, imagine my confusion as I find myself coming back to two words over and over.  Mystery and nuts. What??   

Christmas, in a nutshell, is a mystery.

I've been reading God is in the Manger, an Advent devotional using Dietrich Bonhoeffer's writings.  Week two was spent on the word mystery:

"The lack of mystery in our modern life is our downfall and our poverty."

"How we fail to understand when we think the task...is to solve the mystery of God, to drag it down to the flat, ordinary wisdom of human experience and reason!  It's sole office is to...glorify Gods mystery precisely as mystery."

It's hard to get a grasp on mystery.  It's hard to allow mystery to be the final answer.  

"Children have open, wide-awake eyes, because they know that they are surrounded by the mystery...we [adults] destroy the mystery because we sense that here we reach the boundary of our being."

I am comforted by these words when I think of the children who lost their lives last week.  I see them entering heaven with wide-awake eyes, open to the mystery.  Even as we here on earth remain, trying to find answers.  Trying to understand what can not be understood.

And so it is with Christmas.  We over complicate it.  We want to understand.  It is so simple, that we think we need to make it harder.  It's like a Rube Goldberg experiment...because we will still end up at the same place, it just takes longer.

Christmas, in a nutshell, is a mystery.  And that is the gift.  In the midst of chaos, God loved us enough to send us a mystery in the form of a baby.  Mystery is the gift.  It lets us be free and not understand.  

This is hard.  And we are bad at it.  But maybe it helps if we realize we are surrounded by all kinds of mystery that we never question.  Like nuts.  If you think about it, the inside of every nut is a mystery.  We never know if the nut will be good, bad, whole, broken.  We open it and just accept what we get.  We accept the mystery.

I am not a poetry person, but today I read this  poem.  I was struck by the irony "I hate mysteries...and yet he sits all season snapping nuts".

May we all get a little nutty about the mystery this Christmas!

PS - I was also struck by the timely post of this video by my pastor as I pondered nuts....sometimes God knocks so loud the door just falls over.

Sabbath from "Self"

My husband will tell you I have this REALLY annoying habit.  I ask him how his day was...and then when he doesn't answer within 3 seconds I continue to talk, essentially telling him how my day was.   Have I mentioned he is an incredibly tolerant man???

I went to see a friend in the hospital today.  Luckily, this is not something I often have the chance to do - but even when I do I hesitate to go.  I am that person who thinks I should help "distract" the patient from their woes.  So, I usually end up doing all the talking.  And its's usually about me.

I love Facebook - I know stuff about people that I would not other wise know, especially folks who are far away.  Even stupid stuff.  Seemingly unimportant stuff.  But, that's what I like about it.  People talk about themselves to other people.  Frankly, isn't that the whole point of a status update?  Letting everyone know about you?   

Do you sense a trend?  Here's a shocker:  We are a totally self-absorbed society.  I would have liked to think I was immune from this.  My current medical woes have only highlighted how I have been sucked in like every body else.  I will talk about it to anyone who wants to sympathize with me.  How did we get here?

I don't think we do it intentionally.  We relate to others by common experience - so we try to find something in our world that helps us relate to someone else's world.  We are creatures of our environment.  And our environment has gotten increasingly complicated.  Frankly, there is a lot to keep track of, and most times we can barely keep up with our own little world, let alone what someone else is going through.

But we need to.  We need to care about what others are going through.  Or, at least I'd like to think we do to remain a humane and civil society.  Which means we need to ask..and we need to allow time to listen to the answer.

SO, I am going to try a little experiment.  It was an idea I read somewhere.  A 24-hour Sabbath from MYSELF.  I'll admit, I have tried it before and failed. No status updates on Facebook.   No going on about ME.  And every conversation would start: but how are YOU doin'?

We'll see how it goes this time.  But I am not sure I am allowed to tell you - cause then it would be about ME!

Some days are like a herd of elephants

I should not have time to write this.  In fact, if things were going according to MY plan, I'd be in Richmond sitting in a classroom right now.  Instead, I will make an attempt at blog therapy.  Because, really this writing thing is not to make you feel better, but to make me feel better. 

My original reasoning for creating this blog was to document some of the more behind-the scenes struggles of this stay-at-home mom as she seeks to live out a Christian life in this crazy world.  I'm not here to whine about laundry or that I have guilt about not feeding my kids enough veggies this week.  I am here to highlight the good, the bad and the ugly of trying to actually live out what we are called to do if we claim to be Christian.

So, today is one of the ugly days.  Yes, we all have them.  Even if no one likes to admit them.  The days when our head tells us there is a reason for the things that happen, but our hearts are hardened to hear any of it.  Those days when no matter what we do, we get no comfort.

"I thought you were in Richmond today?".  The words were so innocent - how was she to know they were like a dagger in my heart??  I have had to give up a class I spent months preparing for; having given up things that I love to make room for this "new thing" that I felt called to do.  I was confident I was being obedient and that this was what I was supposed to be doing.

Little did I know that what I was really doing was making room...so I could have a surgery that will disrupt all the plans I made in one foul swoop.

I officially dropped my class yesterday.  Months of preparing, gone in one quick click of the mouse.  When I read this is sounds SO melodramatic.  People are dying; people are out of work.  And here I am whining about not being able to go to class.  I get it.  I do.  But I have also been told previously that the horse on my back is no less heavy just cause my neighbor is carrying an elephant.  For me, the past few days have felt like a herd of elephants.    

SO, there you have it.  Today is one of the ugly days.  Don't come ask me to smile or pretend I am in a good mood.  Don't tell me it will all work out.  I already KNOW that.  It's just that today I am not FEELING it.  And that's just how it is some days.  And you know what - THAT'S OK.  It doesn't mean I didn't pray.  I did - but really it was more of a pity party.  It doesn't mean I don't appreciate all the praying others are doing for me.  Frankly, it's about the only source of comfort I have found in this whole mess.

And tomorrow might be a better day.  But it might not.  And that's OK too.  Cause the bottom line is that as a Christian I don't have to be perfect.   I am allowed to have bad days, and I don't have to apologize for it.  So I am not going to.  In the end, what being a Christian really gives me is hope.  Today might suck, but tomorrow is a new day, and my head knows deep down that God is already doing a new thing.  The hope is that tomorrow my heart feels it.

VBS Top 10

I should probably be working on tomorrow's lesson.  VBS has crossed the hump, with two days left.  So far, it's had everything I knew it would have - the good and the "challenging"! Even though I have these huge bags under my eyes, the  "God" stuff has made it worth every minute. And that's just the things I know about.  How I wish I could be a fly on the walls all over the church when these kids invade for the week.  My cup overflows.  I have no idea why I get so into VBS - well, I do, but only other VBS types like me understand.  

So - in honor of our theme today (Learn) - here's a few tips and other things I have learned from VBS over the years:

1. It doesn’t matter how prepared you are, nothing ever goes as you planned.  Usually this works out better than the original plan.

2.  Don’t hint to the VBS director that you have some free time on your hands, cause there is no such thing as having too many volunteers J

 3.     The music should always be turned up louder.  

4.  Bathroom breaks are a group event, as are field trips to the water fountain.

5.      Make friends with the kitchen crew. They feed you.  And they let you play with your food.

6.    Always say more prayers for the craft people. You might have a bunch of kids, but they supervise all those kids with paint brushes in hand.

7.   Coffee. Drink. More. Coffee.

8.  Age or physical limitation is no reason to stay away. VBS has a place for everyone, young and “wise”. 

9.   There is no greater joy than a VBS hug.

10.           When it gets tough, stick with it. It’s all worth it.