5Ks and Such

It's interesting how the patterns of our lives change. A couple of years ago I would have never considered training for a 5K, figuring that there was no need for extra running given all the exercise I got from chasing my herd of goats around the farm. Now, with no critters to speak of, other than the dozen chickens who don't need much chasing, the thought of running is nearly a daily occurrence and I can now manage a three mile walk/pathetic jog. Funny thing is, the more I run the less tired I am. Going to bed later, and getting up and actually out of bed before 6:00 a.m., has felt good. My muscles ache and the relentless pain in my thigh screams that there must be an easier hobby, but I know in the end I will be better for this one.

Cole tells me that I need to learn how to breathe; gasping isn't acceptable. He told me to come up with a simple chant, so I've started bringing Scripture with on our treks. My latest verse has been Ephesians 1:11.

In Him we were also chosen {gasp}

having been predestined {gasp}

according to the plan of Him{gasp} 

who works out everything in conformity with the purpose of his will {big gasp}.

Our first scheduled running event is less than a week away where we plan to run in the River's Run and Ride Rally. Not by any means to win, but to be out there supporting other families who have been called to walk the hard walk of grief. We'll be sharing our books, so, if you're a prayer, please pray for God's glorious gospel message to reach many. If you're local, come and join us to walk in honor of Trent (there is a 1 mile option available to non racers). If you come looking for me, I'll be the one sprawled on the gravel in the middle of the race path repeating my verse.

To All the Mommas

"For I know the plans I have for you," 

declares the Lord, 

"plans to prosper you and not to harm you, 

plans to give you a hope and a future." 

Jeremiah 29:11

To all the Mommas who had to endure an empty Easter basket this year:

I hope you remembered how much God loves you.

I hope you were able to smile through the tears.

I hope you could feel the embrace of God as He leads you down this path to know Him better.

I hope His grace enveloped you as you waited yet another day to see how God's glorious plan to prosper you will ultimately display His glory.

I hope you cried the tears, and filled the basket any way, and ate an extra chocolate Easter bunny like I did.

I hope you know that you are not alone in this battle of belief.

I hope you know that God is worthy of any sacrifice He calls His children to.

I hope you still have hope.

God's Not Dead

(Image via the World Wide Web)

There aren't many movies that our family indulges in. Our home selection includes a limited amount of DVDs and even VHS tapes that are nearly memorized line for line due to the lack of digitally mastered entertainment available in our living room. To spend the small fortune that it costs to enjoy a night in theater seats with buckets of buttered popcorn requires a show of high standing, and this is one of them.

God's Not Dead

If you haven't heard of it, google it. If you haven't seen it and you are remotely interested in furthering the Kingdom of God, go support it. If your dull soul needs a wake up call, definitely head out to the matinee- today. Take any teenage kid you know with you so that you have somebody to laugh with, cry with, dance with and share their treats. Just go see it. You will not leave unchanged.

Pure Joy

Photo by Grace

Pure joy. Those two words are pounding through my head this morning as I fight to keep eternity in perspective. God tells his children to consider trials pure joy because they test our faith, and in the end, the man who perseveres under trial will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love Him (James 1:3 &12).

I remind myself that this agonizing pain of missing a son is pure joy. It is a constant battle between flesh and soul. One, I believe, that is a gift to fight. One that most days I would trade in a heart beat just to have one more hug, one more sunrise with a teenage boy walking down the stairs saying “Good morning, Mom,” one more night of sharing my cheese puffs. But Scripture calls it pure joy in its perfect, conforming, eternal benefiting form of chiseling my hands off of the temporary, shallow way of living that I used to indulge in.

"Sometimes the devil allows people to live a life free of trouble because he doesn't want them turning to God. Their sin is like a jail cell, except it is all nice and comfy and there doesn't seem to be any reason to leave. The door's wide open. Till one day, time runs out, and the cell door slams shut, and suddenly it's too late." (Quote from the movie God's Not Dead. Haven't seen it? Go see it!)

I realized, again, that doctrine is not a substitute for God. I've concluded, after days if not weeks of unintentionally replacing my Savior with other comforts as innocent as my own beliefs, that God wants us to be satisfied with Him. Not who we think He is, or who our pet doctrines make Him out to be, but to find our complete satisfaction in who He really is. To behold Him in His glory as we stand in awe of Him; simply Him. Stripped of our preconceived ideas and merely loving our Creator. Melting in His holy presence and crawling into His lap to be held as a child, knowing that He has this all under control. 

Sometimes I wonder how something so majestic can be so easy.

I am Forty One

Let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. 

Hebrews 12:1

I am forty one. Too old to decide that running my first 5k might be a good idea. But also young enough to think that running my first 5k might be a good idea. I casually mentioned it to the kids, and the next thing I knew, I was out on the road, pounding pavement. As they whizzed by me, waving from the far off distance to their mother who was lagging behind, I wondered if maybe we shouldn't have just stuck to another Bible study or started a book club.

Half way through the mile introduction of walk/run, I was tempted to lay down and give up. As we passed the driveway for the first time around, I begged to turn in. Wallowing in the ditch would have been okay, too. But I kept going. One foot in front of the other.

And it hurt. And today it hurts worse, and I still have a mile jog to look forward to. Cole, my newly donned personal trainer, tells me that he'll adjust the schedule on week three if I still can't keep up. Groan. A long winter of sitting in my comfy computer chair has caught up with me.

Perseverance is not my strong suit. I want the instant glory. I want the tone abs and thighs without the pain. I want the medal of the race without the training. I realized that I don't particularly like even being in the race. The sidelines are fine. But nobody asked me if I wanted to be in the race of grief. I likened every step on that training course to grief. I started out strong. It felt good to stretch muscles that I knew were there. Until the stop sign kept getting further and further away no matter how many steps I seemed to take. The small victories - a telephone pole, a line in the road, a mailbox- spurred me on.

On my knees before God this morning, I felt like I did out there on that road yesterday. Like just laying down to have myself a pity party. I'm tired of this. I'm worn out. My heart feels ready to burst. But just one more step. One more step. One more step towards victory. I realized that the strength to continue doesn't depend on me on this faith walk. It's God who's waiting for me to wear myself out in my own strength, so that I finally depend on His. I never said that I wasn't slow.

I guess sometimes it's just a long way home.