Let us begin.

Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today. Let us begin. --Mother Theresa

I love the potential in the first day of a new year. I love the symbolism of a new beginning. It makes it a little easier for me to start anew. I'm thinking today about where I want to be one year from now, but I know a certain truth, I only have today. And while I am a planner and a person who loves to check things off my list, the things I most want to see manifested in my life this year are in many ways intangibles. Too bad losing ten pounds is not at the top of my list. That would just be so much easier. But I know I'm being called to doing the things that are deeper than easy. And as scary or as difficult as that may be, I accept. I'm all in.

And so it begins. Today I will live a life of..

Simplicity
Peace
Courage
Faith
Hope
Love
Joy
Connection
Gratitude
Wholeness
Honesty

This virtuous list will go with me. In my car. On my nightstand. Tucked in my Bible. And I pray that if my path crosses yours in 2013, you will see these things manifested in me. I would consider myself blessed to bring them to you. Happy New Year. Let us begin.
 

You're awesome.

You really are. Whether you believe it or not. Whether you feel it or not. You are. And so is life. Whether you are walking through a bright spot, or doing your best to traverse the rocky part. Life is awesome. Sometimes we forget, and sometimes we have to be reminded. I hope today you will take a moment to remember. And I hope you will take a few minutes to watch Neil Pasricha's TED Talk on The 3 A's of awesome.

Now go be awesome.

Nose kisses

Some days I wonder who I am. Who is this crazy woman wielding a spatula, screaming at her dog to "STOP BARKING AT ME?" Screaming in a way that makes the one other human and the one other animal in the house cease movement and look at her as if a crazed stranger had taken free reign of the kitchen and body of a previously sane woman. A woman who has a personal code against raising her voice in anger against humans or animals. A woman who is ashamed that she can suddenly have so little control over her emotions. A woman who says "I'm sorry," turning back to the dinner she is preparing in tears and shame.

And then there is that little barking dog who not even thirty minutes later stands in the doorway sneaking shy peeks at the woman. There are smooching noises. A wagging wisp of a tail. Nose kisses and forgiveness.

Sometimes our broken humanity comes crashing down on us like that. And we need little barking dogs to remind us we are human, to offer us the forgiveness we don't always allow ourselves.

In Reality

I have lost eight pounds. Granted, in comparison to some of my friends who have lost significant amounts of weight recently, this is just chicken feed as my granny used to say. But having lost significant amounts of weight in the past, I know that starting is the hardest part. That's when you have to get real.

For me, the reality was that I had let life beat me up. Instead of looking at life as a challenge--an adventure to be enjoyed-- the way I used to, I began to see it as something to endure. So I hunkered down and waited for the next attack. And to no surprise, each one came, and each time I balled up tighter in my foxhole. Life had gotten hard and scary so I hid. Literally and figuratively. I was a runner through most of my thirties and I ran freely. Joyfully, most of the time. Then I grew fearful of what could happen while I was out there. It is hard to run while carrying the weight of the world on your back. I learned that the quickest way to lose your love is to become afraid of it.

About a month ago, someone asked me what had been going on in my life. I told her the circumstances. And I told her how I felt. She said she knew that she didn't know me that well, but she didn't think that sounded like me. The cowering, the hiding, the lack of joy. She made a few more comments and suggestions and because I can't let many posts go by without mentioning yoga, I can tell you, that is how I ended up sitting on a mat, crosslegged, learning how to breathe.  Fear drove me there. Fear of people and circumstances, but also the fear of staying the person I had recently become.

I'm learning how to breathe again. I am learning how to sit still, mentally and physically and be fully present. I am learning to close my eyes without bracing myself for attack.  I am learning which boundaries to keep and which to relax. I am learning how to lean into that which is difficult and breathe through it. And I am learning that my reality is not good, nor bad. It just is. I am learning to let go, but knowing I had to take hold first. Life is so much easier to fight for when you stop fighting against it. 

"The woods are lovely, dark, and deep"

The following are excerpts from Jesus Calling by Sarah Young:

"Waves of adversity are washing over you, and you feel tempted to give up. As your circumstances consume more and more of your attention, you are losing sight of me. " February 27


"Don't look for affirmation in the wrong places: your own evaluations, or those of other people. The only source of real affirmation is My unconditional Love." February 28


"You are on the right path. Listen more to Me, and less to your doubts. I am leading you along the way I designed just for you. Therefore, it is a lonely way, humanly speaking." February 29


I am realizing more and more that I have a need for a daily devotional not just as a catalyst to dig into the Word, but also as a catalyst to look inward. I need to see the things within myself that I don't want to see so I can deal with the things that need to be dealt with. The last three days of my devotional have done just that. They have spoken to my desire to just give up (not even knowing what that looks like), feelings of inadequacy, and a loneliness that is just as palpable in a room full of people as it is when I lie awake in the middle of the night.

I'm guessing this is what one gets when they offer up their own ease and comfort for forty days. Why would we expect any less when we willingly walk into the wilderness? And I guess there is no other way to comprehend God's longing for our hearts to be only His, than to have all we want stripped away--even for a short time. I know God doesn't want me to be afraid, lonely, unseen, or inadequate. But maybe I need to feel those feelings when I look to humans or circumstances to fill a need they can't possibly fill. And maybe that is the wilderness journey I have to offer these next few weeks: the willingness to walk down a dark path, alone in order to know without a doubt that Someone goes before me to make the way.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep. --Robert Frost

The Narrow Space

This blog comes to you today from the narrow space between a rock and a hard place. At least, it feels like that is where we are. My goal for the next month is to not grow bitter about this place. I won't complain about how dark and cold it feels, but I will make an effort to scoot into the light. You guys may need to remind me to scoot over sometimes and let you sit down. I will try to remember that you will be the ones who bring the light with you.

So I will sit here and hold my husband's hand. And I will know that God crouches there beside us in the narrow space. And He brings His friends.

Growing up

I read a lot of blogs. And when I say a lot, I mean a LOT. Mainly, just because I think that other than personal experience, there is no better way to learn than through what other people share about their own experiences. As people, it makes sense that we learn the most when we engage with other people.

I want to start making a habit of sharing more of the great words I regularly read. I hope something you read touches you, makes you giggle, makes you sigh, or maybe even gets you a little riled up.  May we all read something everyday that helps us remember the world is so much bigger than the small one we too often choose to inhabit.

Today, may Gail Hyatt's words remind you, as they did me, that it is not about us.

Happy reading, my friends.

Excuse Me

I went running this morning. I just couldn't help it. I mean, if you are going to go out and do something you haven't done in over four months, you might as well do it on a beautiful morning. So I did. And let me tell you, as far as runs go, this was a good one. It was slow because, well, to be quite honest, one would expect it to be after so much time off. And by off, I mean working incredibly hard doing something I love: working with youth. And of course, I ate the food youth eat. Which made me a little squishy around the middle. Which added to the slowness with which I ran.

But hear me say, these are not excuses. Well, maybe they are. I know I could have worked harder to maintain my fitness this summer, but the truth is, I didn't.  And I could have eaten better. But I didn't. And when I ended the busy summer with a seriously ill husband, I wanted nothing more than to run for some reason. That is what made sense to me. I've run through almost all of the hard parts of my adult life, so I wanted nothing more than to lace up my Asics and hit the road. So while my husband began a regimen to lower his heartrate and bring him back to balance, I began one to raise mine and bring myself back to center.

Here's the thing about the excuses we make: We have a choice to stop making them. But when we stop making them, we better be prepared to do something. There's a saying, "Put up or shut up." Today I chose to lace up and shut up. Life's just better without excuses getting in the way.

Understanding or lack thereof.

I have not been able to stop thinking today about how much my understanding of God has changed. Don't get me wrong here, I don't actually understand Him one bit.  In fact, the more my faith grows, the more mysterious He becomes. But I am learning more and more to appreciate the mystery.

What I also keep thinking about is this: He never changed. But I did. The more I stop trying to bully my way through ministry, relationships, and life in general, the more I see Him at work in those very areas of my life. When I give myself over to be used by God rather than trying to use God to get my own way, the more evident it becomes to me that He has been at work all along, I was just working against Him because I wasn't allowing myself to be used by Him.

He is a great big God and I pray I will never presume to understand Him, but will always seek to obey Him.

So I guess my question for you is: How has your understanding of God changed lately?

Abandoned

It seems lately that every time I run, I am  "coming back" to running. I haven't run much at all the last couple of months and before that, I trained for a half mary, and even then my running was inconsistent.  As was my diet, my rest, and pretty much everything else I depend on to make the rest of my life better. I have been incredibly busy and that's not a bad thing, but I realized this weekend how much I have slipped out of shape physically and I know without question that this has a profound impact on my mental, emotional, and spiritual wellbeing. So this morning, I laced up my shoes to yet again, come back to running.

Coming back to anything is usually a mixed bag of emotions for me. Throughout the course of my life, I've come back to physical health and wellbeing several times. Everytime, bringing with me something new I learned about why I fell away to begin with, at least a little bit of shame about having yet again "fallen off the wagon," and a new desire to start over. I'm  finding it much easier to let go of the shame of what I would have considered failing earlier in my life, but I'm  choosing to hold on to desire.

It's a funny thing how desire takes root. How we can find our own desire by seeing someone else succeed or even struggle and want more for ourself because of it.  We can see someone love something with abandon and want to taste that kind of freedom . We can experience want in a way that is not necessarily greed, it is want for more of something pure and true. A desire for better. This is how I came back to running.

Thursday night I found myself sitting on the dirt floor of a rodeo arena at a concert. I love music and big barns so I was perfectly happy with my place in the world that evening. We had great seats for band watching and people watching.  So I watched. And I quickly noticed a young man sitting a few rows in front of us across the aisle. He sat very still in his wheelchair, just hanging out before the show started, but I could not have anticipated what would happen when the music began. As soon as he heard the first beat of the drum., he began to move. He moved his arms, beating his hands against his legs in perfect rhythm. Abandoned. Eyes closed. All I could think was "He's running."

He ran, song after song while I danced and jumped and sang and frequently watched him. Seeing him  love the music and the moment so freely made me want to move my feet in rhythm  to music as I had so often done without thinking about the beauty of  the moment or the motion. And all of a sudden something that I had been trying to find room  for on my to-do list became something I was willing to make room for.  It became something I desired to do.

Coming back hasn't been easy.  In fact, I thought I might actually throw up and possibly blackout this morning while I ran. But I kept running because I know if  I want to run the way I want to run, freely and with abandon, then I have to get through the hard part. The desire is there. I just have to keep moving.

Standing on the wall

I spent all of last week at camp. I'm a big fan of camp--the fun that can be had and the rawness of relationships when we allow ourselves to be vulnerable and open. What I am not so much a fan of is the trust initiative that inevitably goes along with being part of a small group. It has nothing to do with the "bonding" that should happen within a small group. I'll bond all day through conversation, prayer, a pat on the back, perhaps a hug, but ask me to climb something tall, and I will very possibly go missing, fake an injury, or just flat out refuse.

So around Wednesday when I found myself precariously perched on a narrow ledge about halfway up a forty foot rockwall, I had to ask myself how I had let it come to this. And I had plenty of time to toss around this question, as well many others, while I teetered on the ledge--for 45 minutes to be precise. Some of the questions I asked aloud, directed at my small group (only the girls showed up, ironically.):

Question: "How do I get to the top?"
Answer: "You climb."

Question: "Are you guys going to be mad at me if I come down?"
Answer: Silence.

So when I finally held out longer than them and they finally consented to the descent, I couldn't help but feel like a failure. They kept assuring me that I was NOT a failure. And to ease their judgment of me and lighten their mood, there was a video taken by dear Mackenzie who quickly realized that my descent was going to be much more interesting and entertaining than my actual climb.

Of course walking back to my cabin, I couldn't help but ask "Okay, what am I supposed to do with this?" After all, I like a challenge and generally tend to excel when the pressure is on. What do I do with myself after standing on a narrow ledge for 45 minutes and never actually getting to the top?

That afternoon, the other counselors assured me I indeed was a success. I doubted that. Affirmation came in the form of one the counselors running up to me before dinner saying that one of the girls ran in to their cabin ecstatic after the climb, proclaiming "My counselor ROCKS!!!!!" And then I had that moment I think God intended to be just mine during this intense week. He just wanted me to be willing to stand on the wall with my students. It was okay that I had nothing to offer them other than my willingness to stand with them. They just needed me to get up there. That is community. That is Church. It made me think about the times I have struggled in my life and no one had answers. But in the midst of struggle, there was someone willing to stand with me. God showed me in a very tangible way, the importance of our willingness to stand on the wall. I will look for those opportunities. I may not always climb to the top, but I will choose to rise to occasion.

I stand resolute.

I'm a take stock kind of person. Always have been. I have a thing about taking a step back and looking at myself, my life, and figuring out what works, what doesn't, what could make it better, and what is making it worse. I try to shift, add, and remove accordingly. Some things work better than others, some not at all, some are difficult for me, some are difficult for others in my life, some make me ask myself "what took you so long?" but hopefully all of them move me a little closer to who I am supposed to be.

I am also a sentimental person. Growing up, my life was rarely what a real childhood should be, and I often got sentimental, melancholy on my birthday, New Year's Eve, in airports, when finishing a great book or movie, and when leaving happy places. It wasn't until I got older and started trying to figure out my craziness that I realized I wasn't missing what had been, I was missing what COULD have been. I realized I was a "what if..." kind of person.

So a few years ago I decided to try to live my life in a way that wouldn't make me ask those "what if..." questions. I didn't want to live with regret. I wanted to live my life in the now, without big expectations, but with great hopefulness. It seems to be working. We spent New Year's Eve with some friends last night. We spent most of the time being really silly and laughing alot. Oh, and at some point I registered for the Austin Half Marathon in February. What better way to ring in the New Year than being with people who want you around, and making great plans for the coming year? So when midnight came, I did a quick check of my little internal barometer and there was none of that usual pressure. Only a willingness to tuck in the old year and kiss it goodnight, appreciating it for what it was: often scarier and more difficult than one would want a year to be, but full of love and new beginnings. And I welcomed the New Year with open arms. If it was a puddle, I would have gotten a running start, taken a big jump, and planted my feet smack in the middle.

So here I stand at the threshold of a New Year. I have great hopes for this year. For myself and for the people I love. Very few of those hopes have to do with possessions, but more with possessing...great moments, love, joy, health, and in the end, memories. I made great new friends in 2008, and reconnected with a few old ones. I will nurture those relationships. I will laugh a lot, and cry when necessary. I will ask important questions and talk about absolutely nothing at all. I will be silly. I will play, possibly too much. I will train for a marathon. I will hug more people, and at some point stand on a mountain top with my arms outstretched to the great big world. I will give more to people whom I don't even know. I will watch more sunrises and sunsets over the bay. I will try to learn a little better when to speak, and when not to. I may or may not lose those pesky ten pounds, but I won't think less of myself if I don't. I will live in the right now, but make great plans. I will work on accepting circumstances I can't change, but I will change the things I need to. In these things I stand resolute. Hopeful. Excited. I stand.

Chloe: The Little Engine that Can

I wrote this blog a couple of weeks ago but never posted it. I post it now with a heart full of love and hope for a little girl and her family.

So I am training for a half marathon in November and with any luck, another one in January. All this really means is that other than running and biking a lot, I just have plenty of time to think. There isn’t much one can do while pounding the pavement mile after mile. So I think. Sometimes I think about what I am going to make for dinner, or what I should be doing instead of running. And often, I think about how I wish this running business came a little easier to me. And then other times, I think about how thankful I am that I can run at all. That thankfulness is spurred many times by thoughts of my friend Chloe. I think about her a lot. She isn’t even one year old yet, and can’t speak, and I’m sure doesn’t even really know who I am, but I think she is one of the most amazing people I know and she is quite frequently at the forefront of my thoughts when I have to dig a little deeper.

This beautiful angel of a child has already faced a lifetime of challenges in her time on earth, and she has a lifetime to go. But I am trying to adopt a Chloe attitude when I run. I watched her roll over a couple of months ago and it was one of the greatest things I have ever seen. When she rolled over, her face lit up. I mean, she beamed with pride. It was awesome. Her mom made her do it over and over again. Mainly because it was part of her therapy, but that was secondary to seeing her light up when she landed on her back. There was a lot of “Come on, Chloe. You can do it! You can do it!” And then after her little-engine-that-could performance: “Yea, Chloe! You did it!” And then, that huge, toothless smile. Priceless.

I have decided I am going to start smiling at myself a little more often. I have spent a lifetime smiling at others, but inwardly chastising myself for what I should have or could have, but didn’t do. I have also spent most of my adult life hating my body for what it can’t do, reproduce. I have never said that so publicly before, mainly because I was just so ashamed of not being able to do what every woman was made to. I have spent so much time resenting what my body can’t do, when I should have been celebrating what it can do. I’ve been doing my own version of rolling over all along and never thought to be grateful for it.

Sometimes when I think about Chloe, I get angry because I think if I could, I would give her an easy life, with a body she can take for granted. Because I am sure, things are going to get harder for her. But I also think about all of the people I know who take their bodies for granted, mistreating them, using them up, until they have nothing left to give. And then I think that all they need is a Chloe in their life to give them some perspective. But I got her. A gift in my life from a gracious God. A God who sees the potential in all of us to roll over and smile about it.