I Walked Into September

by admin | Sep 1, 2023 | Purpose

I walked into September thinking it was fall.
But it’s still summer, dear, still summer;
It’s still summer, I recall.
It’s summer,
only different.
Only changing, with the leaves.

But isn’t it always?
Oh isn’t it, always,
even if you don’t please.

I want to park right here and linger,
stay this way for just so long.
But we can’t, my love, not forever.
We’ve got to move along.

Though I’d like you to stay little,
I know that would be wrong.
You’re not meant to be my prize-
my prize is watching you.
Your life, it is a song.
One that I’ll remeber,
And know my whole life long.

So I will sit and listen-
Watch as things unfold,
In the dazzling way they ought to do.
In beauty and in challenge,
Watching you be you.
I can’t keep you-like the summer,
but I keep you in my heart.

Though the autumn winds may start to blow,
like they did from the start,
you’ll forever be my little one,
little big one of my heart.

Bears, Snakes, and Spiders, Oh My!

by admin | Aug 29, 2023 | Purpose

One of my favorite memories of Montana was also one that was almost comically, full of danger.

We went on a dinosaur dig, which my husband found for our dinosaur-loving six year old.
We left the mountains of Glacier Park behind us and drove about an hour and a half to more open, almost desert like badlands of Montana.

We passed Indian reservations, one lone gas station and lots of beautiful open spaces and more rolling hills.
We arrived at the headquarters and museum, in a thriving town, home to a whopping 51 people. We got in a dusty old van with a young college paleontologist who drove us another 45 minutes down dusty, gravel roads. As she did, she told us with excitement all about the area, its history and dinosaurs, and all that we’d find, deep into the heart of dinosaur country, in a state that we’d grown to love.

We pulled up, into a ranchers expansive land, where dinosaur bones had been found and excavated, and still more remained.

We stepped out into the wide open, and wild spaces, and the small group of us gathered around the two guides for our instructions. They were going to tell us what we should look for, how to find the actual dinosaur bones. But first, they’d have to start with the safety talk.

“See that butte over there? That’s actually home to the largest concentration of grizzly bears in the lower 48 states. They live and feed there and the surrounding stream and vegetation.”

Why there and not the Rockies we could see off in the distance. From the looks of this butte, it was nothing compared to the great glory of the pine filled mountains we’d left a few hours behind. And why so close to where we were going to be, I had no actual idea either. They had mentioned the bears back at the museum when Ted checked in, and so hearing it now was not exactly a complete surprise. But it still was a surprise generally speaking it was. We had left our two cans of bear spray back at the ranch, thinking that we were also leaving bear country.

Standing there, looking at that butte just a bit of way off, it was hard to believe that we’d actually come closer. The safety talk by our guides assured us that it was unlikely that we’d encounter one. But it was a possibility and we had to be aware, to listen for our guides, and worst case scenario, we’d all jump in the big metal van and drive away.

Gulp.

I looked around. Looked down down at my feet. Wondered what on this dusty earth was going on. I imagined what it might look like to see one here. We knew what to do in general. Might sound easy enough, for one maybe. Multiply that by a family a four including little ones, and it was not something I like to have to imagine.

But the safety talk didn’t stop there.
“We’re also in rattlesnake country. And this area is also home to lots of black widow spiders. Stay out of the brush, don’t stick your hands in any holes, and if you hear a rattle, alert one of us right aware.”

Double gulp.

The next part of the talk, I wasn’t listening. It’s not that I didn’t try. They talked all about what to look for in order to find the dinosaur bones. These treasures that we sought. As you looked among the rocks, you should look for this color, this shape, this texture, and a certain porousness (which could be tested by licking your finger and seeing if it stuck.) That part I heard. The rest of the instructions?
It was like Charlie Brown’s teacher in peanuts. “Wah wah wah wah.”

All I could think about was grizzly bears, rattlesnakes, and black widow spiders. While everyone was walking about, scanning for treasure, I was scanning the horizon, the bushes, the spaces around us that might hold the danger we were warned about.
The kids and everyone else set about looking. It appeared that we all did.

Ted looked at me after a bit and said, “what exactly are we looking for?”
“I sure don’t know. I wasn’t really paying attention. All I could think about was bears and snakes and spiders. Ha!” I knew that he’d chuckle at me, and at my hesitation. It wouldn’t be any news flash for him to see that.

But I was finding it hard to concentrate on the task at hand when there was so much potential, deadly danger all around us.
I knew that chances were slight. But still, they were there.

I also know that my husband had excellent judgement and he would never intentionally lead us into any actual danger. If he was truly concerned he would have said so.

But I was left with this potential information and it wasn’t any fun. “Oh you of little faith” is all I could think, really, about myself. You might not know from the outside, I appeared to be doing what everyone else was doing. But inside I was wrestling with imaging the worst, preparing for it and trying not to let it overtake me.

It’s really hard.

I prayed of course. I went through the emotions. I tried to concentrate on the task at hand. I watched as my kids found some. I took delight. I didn’t loose heart. I didn’t find any snakes or bears or black windows. (Though our guide found one hiding beneath a bone we were all standing and hovering over.)

We found bones, we did. We walked to another area and found real fragments of broken black dinosaur eggs. Larger fossils had been taken from that area, including a whole nest of eggs. It was pretty wild and neat.

My kids got to keep one of the small dinosaur bone pieces they each found. I found none, of course, so there was that.
It was not without joy. No, not at all. It was worth it. But boy, it was a real exhale when we made it back to the car.
My kids fell fast asleep, my smile got a lot easier, and I scanned the horizon for bears, only now mentioning out loud that I’d like to actually see one.

It felt a lot like real, everyday life.

We’re on a hunt for something meaningful. We’re surrounded by potential danger.
We decide what we focus on, which decides and helps determine what we find.

Some can hear about danger without focusing on it. Some focus only on treasure. Some dance between the two.

Which one are you? I think you know which one I am. I dance. Oh yes I dance. I wish I didn’t. I wish I only could see the good and not ever worry about what might happen.

If only I could trust the Lord even more. Trust His judgement. Trust His ability to rise up and protect us. Just like I trust my husband.

And I do. Oh I do. Especially when I lean in.

In my spirit, I know that there’s good.
In my flesh, I wrestle with the worry.

Like a dance where I know and dance with them, both, only differently.

If only I could sign just the one dance card.
And when worries hand me their dance card, that I could just hand it right back. That there’s only one I’ll truly dance with.

When I feel foolish, and remember how I’ve danced before, with worries, and how I wrestled there in the open desert, maybe I’ll see now how it was a dance. And how much the better dance partner pursued me. And who I eventually did choose to lean on.

Though fears and worry came and kept coming to tap me on the shoulder- again and again- and invited me to dance, I looked around.

I shook my head only subtly at first, then more firmly.
And even as my knees felt like buckling underneath me or I felt weak with worry. Even then, I learned to lean on the shoulders of the One who held me. Of my Love who holds me still, and doesn’t want me to be afraid.
Though no evil or danger came near us, I leaned on Him. I know that He kept us safe. And I know that I’m learning with each step to dance, only better. This is training ground.
Desert or mountain. To learn to trust.

Though sometimes I’d like to skip right past the worry and get to the exhale. Like the journey home in that “metal box” of a van. All together with my family, danger far behind us. I don’t want to miss the good stuff along the way either. All the discovery we were meant for.

Even someday when I do have to face death and danger I do to cross over to eternity as we all do, I pray and trust that I’ll know then, just as I know now, but maybe even better- that He’s never left me and He won’t stop now.
He’ll reign as King and dance with me, forever. Right past all the snakes and spiders and bears. Nothing bothers Him and He knows that He’a got me.
I’m still failing and learning how to lean in and dance. But He’s never failed me. He won’t start now.

“My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.” Psalm 73:26

And also 2 Corinthians 12:9
”Each time he said, “My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.” So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me.”

Each time.

I can dance on, because He’s dancing, there right beside me, and strong. Stronger still.

race against quitting

by admin | Aug 28, 2023 | Purpose

Yesterday I ran another half marathon. 

I made it to the starting line, healthy enough and trained “enough”.   I had plantar fasciitis last fall that took a while to overcome.  Most of my runs this summer have happened right in front of my house, running laps back and forth while the kids played.  (My neighbors smile and wave when they see me, but they probably think I’m kinda crazy.  I sorta do too, but it just works for now.) 

I was so grateful to be able to do it, but it was not without trepidation.   I’d done enough of these to know what it requires, what might go wrong, and just how painful, fast or slow that it might be.  

I was sure I’d be the last.  Much slower than most I’d already done.  And honestly I could have let that thought alone stop me from going to the starting line.  Even the day before I wrote these words 

“It’s the last shake out run that I have before tomorrow’s “race”.  I say race in quotations because it’s not going to be a race against any of my previous  half marathon times.  

It’s going to be, a race against… well.  I’m not sure what.  Quitting maybe. 

Yes.  That’s it. This is a race against quitting.”

The morning of, as I sipped my coffee and had my prayer time, more thoughts came in the morning about priorities, motherhood, speed, training, all the things.  But because of all of those things mentioned, I still couldn’t quite finish putting the words all together. I just knew one thing.  

It was time to go, and despite some nerves, I wanted to. 

Things for me are different since I became a mom.  My kids still see me run but not as fast and rarely as far I’ve ever been.  

But I think that’s okay.

I’m not worried about impressive speeds anymore as much as I am an impressive life.  And by impressive I don’t really mean in the of the ways you might think.  Most of them are unmeasurable, but I still want to live an extraordinary life.  Loud or quiet, night and day, right here at home -first and foremost and hopefully most of all.  Right here, where I happen to do most of my anything -runs, work, or otherwise.    

I just want to keep going.  

I don’t reallly care quite so much about speed. Not right now at least. 

If I wanted to work on it I’m sure that I could.  

Though the thought of it feels strange right now.   I just want to run in order to run.  Though I’m sure- even from past experience-  that there’s a better strategy, to be honest I’m not sure i want it right now. I’m more concerned with my kids’ character development (and mine, continuing) than I am with negative splits.  There’s only so much time that I have and I try to be careful and wise with how I spend it well.  I race to get housework done, to finish projects, to write and edit works, to clean up things.  I run to relax my mind and work my body but not to stress it too much. 

Maybe it’s just this season, but it’s mine (for now) and I’m trying to run it well. 

I hope they see and notice me run at other important things- like adventures together, love in the day to day, living life together, fellowship with God, and cheering them on. 

Sometimes I fail miserably.  At the life part even more than the runs.  But I keep trying. 

Just like this race/run. 

My husband checked in with me that morning. “Ready?” “My heart and mind are.”  The unspoken, but heard, was that I wasn’t exactly sure how my body would or was feeling.   Though it might not be as fast as I ever was, i was sure that I’d have the mental toughness to get it done. It’s about accomplishing something more than it is about speed, but I still want to do it well.  

Most of my runs in the peak pace of my  career were negative splits.  That’s when you run the first half at a more conservative pace, so that you can finish well-stronger, faster even than the first.  It takes discipline, to hold back and leave some in your tank for the end.  I knew that wasn’t guaranteed though and I wasn’t sure if my training would be good enough to add up to that.  

I just knew it was going to be good enough to try.  if I just let myself take the shot. 

Toe the line.  

Run the race.  

As I usually feel at the end, it would be worth it. 

So here we go….

As the race started, on a gentle and shaded trail I’d run portions of before, multiple times over the years, my husband and kids cheered me on. I took pictures of them as my husband laughed. Then off I went.  

All that kept going through my mind was the verse about enduring to the end.  

Calm and easy I ran the out and back course.  I was working as hard as I felt comfortable.  Trying to be smart.  Not to  save too much, but not to spend it all. 

On the way back, though, something clicked in.  I don’t know if was muscle memory or brain training or something deep inside me or  what.  But I felt myself click into a different gear.  I didn’t even tell myself to.  It just went.  

So run a negative split, I did.  The speed wasn’t impressive really, but  for how I was feeling overall, I was proud of my efforts.  

Going in, I wasn’t sure if I could run well.  Certainly not a negative split this time.  But in some ways I’ve been training my whole life for that.  At least a lot of running years.  Not every race I’ve done has been a negative split.  Not by a long shot. 

But I want this to be one.  And no, I’m not talking anymore about the one that I finished yesterday.  

The second half, it was different than the first.  It took a digging deep.  It took more strategic eating.  In fact I didn’t eat anything at all the first half.  It took proper hydration.  It took more of my metal energy and letting go of  little motions or efforts that didn’t or wouldn’t matter.  

On the way back I ran up by two people I’d seen in front of me for most of the race.  The man said of the gal, “Watch out for this one.  When she wants to go she just goes.” 

“She’s got it in her, I said.  “I suppose we all do.”  Then I thought to myself. “It’s all about the timing.” I might have said it out loud.  But I was careful and conservative about my output.  I was trying as best I could to pour it into my legs and lungs.  I didn’t see them after a while.  I wasn’t trying to push past them, I just did. 

I listened to a little music on the way back.  Songs about God’s faithfulness.  About Him and how He holds it all together.  About seeing all of His goodness. And I couldn’t help but see the correlation.   

Between me showing up and Him sticking beside me. 

“You never change”.  I heard that truth in my ear. I felt how the stories of and in my body change.  But He never does.  Boy that’s a comforting thought. 

He’s with me when I’m slower and tired, or when I’m capable and strong.  Running, slogging, pacing, overreaching, slowing sitting, racing.  He’s there for all of it.  

But how can I persevere unless I show up, keep showing up? How can I be faithful to walk or run this path if I don’t actually go?

There were a couple of people in the race that really stood out to me.  One was a guy who kept running ahead and then slowing to walk.  For five or six miles I’d see him-burst ahead of me, then put on the brakes and start s brisk walk.   He’d give a peace sign in his left hand and pull over, but he never stopped.  He’d only slow enough to keep going.  At the same overall pace as I was going without any cat and mouse.  There’s no wrong way though. It takes a lot to adjust your pace like that.  Whether based on heart rate or time or whatever other external factor that I didn’t know about, he knew when to pick it up and pull back.  I admired his disciples, and told him so out loud.  Though I’m not sure if he heard me.  Still I’ll assume he finished brilliantly.  The  race doesn’t go to the swift or the flashy, but to the one who has the discipline to, and keeps going. 

Another was a girl that started out at a pace just enough ahead of me that I didn’t think that I’d see her again.  Until I did.  Because she was walking back- towards the start.  ‘No, not that way!’ I thought towards her. I wasn’t sure what happened.  Was she looking for someone or something? Was she nursing an injury? Was she calling it a day? I had no idea why you’d want to back Gracie like that and I didn’t judge or or think her weak or a quitter.  Any competitive nature that may happen in a race moment, of sizing up the completion, immediately goes away in moments like that.  I  just wanted to see her running well.  

Later I saw her on the way back. She was maybe a mile or so behind me.  Maybe less, but I broke into a big smile and waved at her, and she waved and smiled back at me.  ‘That’s it.  That’s where you belong. keep going, and finish this thing,’  was all I  thought, and gladly, she was. 

The last person was a lady that looked much older than me.  She was fit as  could be and we ran step for step for a while.  I guess maybe twenty years.  Which would put her at mid sixties. It didn’t sound possible, so then I adjusted.  Maybe she was only 10 or 15 years old.  She pulled ahead and I lost sight of her for quite a while.  On the way back she came into view again and I thought that maybe I could pick her off (that’s race speak for passing. Talk about that competitive edge spirit-ha! Good naturedly, of course.).  But I never quite caught her.  I told my family about her later as I looked at the races results.  “Did you beat her?” my daughter asked. 

I bet she beat me by a minute or so.  I found her there.  She did beat me by a minute.  And she was in fact, 25 years older than me. 

“That’s something to aspire to,” my husband said.  Yes it is, I thought.  That’s something indeed.  She’s out here running her race, with a longevity that’s impressive.  

If I don’t keep going now, even if I’m slower or “not as good” as I once was, I won’t have any hope to keep going much later either.  

I get things wrong sometimes.  I over train or under prepare. I let myself compete in ways and about things that aren’t even important.  I loose sight of what an accomplishment it is just to be here.  To keep doing as I’m meant to.  Not to be impressive or acknowledged even.  But to keep going forward, with love. 

That’s what matter more than accolades or races or running.  There are things that I’ve traded in for this life right here and all that He’s given to me to manage. There are people that I need to love- well -and sometimes that feels a lot harder than any race.  

Which is helpful, when I run a race, to remember.  It’s helpful when that race is over and the next ones continue too.  Cheering on my neighbors, loving and doing only my own best any given day.  That’s what matters.  

There are races that He’s called each one of us to do.  Some parts are going to be about discipline and keeping a good pace.  Others are going to be about holding back and waiting to really go for it.  Others are going to be about laying it all out there and crushing it.  It’s all about the timing.  

That and knowing how, to keep going.  On your journey and not anyone else’s.  

There’s never enough time to do everything well, so whatever you do, however you show up, you must do it as well as you possibly can.  

“All things being equal” we must, or can,  finish our races well.  

And I don’t mean speed.  I mean all of the other stuff. Toughness. Grit. Determination.  Grace.  Cheering on your neighbor but not judging yourself by their pace.  Being only inspired but not beholden. Making the  decision to keep going as long and as well as you possibly can.  To hold on, to press forward, to the finish line.  

It also legit doesn’t mean you have to get faster.  Sometimes you’re getting stronger even if you’re not getting faster.  Even if we love the thrill of the chase, the satisfaction of speed, the body does changes, the heart changes, the mind changes too.  

One thing that doesn’t have to change is the ability to show up.  

The desire, the need, the knowledge- that it really is about just not stopping.  Not giving up.  Even if you’re slower or faster or weary or wondering.  To keeping showing up.  To keep going as long as you are able.  Not running yourself into the ground.  Not forgetting everything.  But taking all things into account, wisely moving FORWARD. 

Remembering, we aren’t alone.  We don’t do it on our own strength only.  We can rise up with wings as eagles, if we lean in, lean on to Him. We can keep going, with His help- if we don’t give up.  

We’ll eventually reap a reward.  Toe the line.  Run the race.  

As I usually feel at the end, and like I felt  about yesterday, it will be worth it. 

I’ve been talking to the Lord a lot about being slow.  Or maybe better said, He has been talking to me.  

Not about slowing down, or slowing down time, or me being slow or being slow to speak.  

(Those are all good things.) 

But heart has been stirred.  I often feel behind in what I’m supposed to do. In the books that sit as drafts, the date I set to have them completed by long past.  

My running pace has slowed over the years.  My yes hasn’t. But my speed in obedience sure feels like it has.  Maybe it’s my lack of strength, or resources or my own awful time management.  But I feel Him nudging me gently. 

Just to keep going. To trust Him with all of my timing- even when I think I surely must be messing it up.  To trust Him more than my own weaknesses and their ability to mess things up.  

To trust Him. To ask Him for whatever I need and to keep going.  

Because the race surely doesn’t go to the swift or the strong. But to those who keep going and don’t ever give up. 

So I guess that’s what I’ll do.  No matter how many starts and stops it might take me.  He’s greater than all of my weaknesses.  I guess that I’ll just keep trusting Him.  ♥️