Solo Fellowship...

Solo fellowship?  An oxymoron?

I love solo runs.  By myself.  Alone.  Me and my iPod.

I drive to the trail...stretch...turn on my iPod and go.  I listen Christian music mostly...the good stuff...Needtobreathe, Rend Collective, Tobymac...

As I run, my mind is caught up in the music...the words...the beat (Needtobreathe makes music that goes perfectly with my stride.)
It's not long before a lyric brings to mind something I'm thankful for...
Then something to pray about...
I come to a hill and I struggle...
I focus on the music...
It's so strange, it seems that every time I get to the hills, the music is PERFECTLY timed for that particular challenge.

As my run continues, I realize that I'm not alone at all.
I've been chatting with God the entire time.
Worshiping Him in the sunshine...or rain...
Enjoying His creation...
The sweet scent of the grass and trees...
The occasional bunny crossing my path...
The fresh air filling my lungs...

When I get to the last hill, the one that kicks my butt every time, I thank Him for giving me the strength, the legs, the ability at my age, to run up that hill...
Running isn't easy.
It's not always fun.
But...
It's a place that I meet God...
It makes me feel strong...stronger...
physically...
and spiritually...

I love the fellowship of running with friends....
but a solo run...solo fellowship...is sacred.

Details...

I have a new little nephew...a tiny little nephew...
Technically, he's a great nephew...but great aunts are always so old...and...well...I like to think that I'm not quite old enough to be a great aunt...
I visited my one day new little nephew.
His mommy unwrapped him so we could see his little fingers and toes...
They were all there.
Each little toe had a tiny toenail...
Even the pinky toe.
It was super tiny.

I remember when I had my babies...
I remember looking at their tiny toes...
That tiny little toenail on the pinky toe gets me every single time.
It's just. so. tiny.

Life is so full of details...
Parts and pieces of a big picture.
Important and less important...
But all important...to someone...

We pray about health...
safe travel...
decisions...
loved ones...
jobs...
weather...
pets...
projects...
security...
thoughts...
anxiety...
joys...

God is a God of details.
He cares about what we care about.
"God doesn't care about that, I'm not going to bother Him."
Wrong.
He put nearly microscopic toenails on pinky toes in the womb...
He cares about everything.
Every detail.
He wants you to share everything.
Every detail...
Details that He created and cares about...
Yes, even that.

A Very Good Friday...

I'm reading Prayer - Does it Make Any Difference? by Phillip Yancy...one of my favorite authors.  (It's SO good!)

Last night, I read a timely bit about Jesus' prayers.  The prayer he prayed for wisdom in choosing his 12 disciples and His prayers for the two disciples, Peter and Judas, who would deny and betray him.  At first glance, it would seem that God did not answer those prayers...after all, Jesus was crucified...had those two done right by Him, perhaps His life would have been spared...or does God work differently than we would think?

God used those two men to accomplish salvation for you and me.  God's "freedom-respecting" style of goodness and grace, allowed those two men to exercise their free will to do as their hearts would lead.  He gives you and I the same freedom.  That is why we need His grace.

In the book, Mr. Yancy describes the "freedom-respecting style of good and the freedom-crushing style of evil".  He examines Mark 9, where "a young boy was foaming at the mouth, gnashing his teeth and throwing himself into fire and water.  In every way, evil possession transforms the boy into a caricature of a human being, forcibly overwhelming human freedom.  Contrast that scene with possession by the Holy Spirit.  Paul warns, "Quench not the Spirit and grieve not the holy Spirit of God"  The Lord of the universe becomes so small, so freedom-respecting as to put himself somehow at our mercy."

Wow.

As I ponder Good Friday...the day we recognize as the day Jesus, God taking the form of a man, died on a cross - the most degrading form of death at the time - to pay the price of the sin of every man, past, present and future...I think of this freedom-respecting style of God.

He doesn't die for us and then get in our face and say "LOOK WHAT I DID FOR YOU!  OBEY ME!!"

No.

He loves us and waits for us.

The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance. - 2 Peter 3:9 

What is His promise?  His promise is eternal life for all who accept His gift of grace...freedom from death...and the promise of eternity with Him.  

"not wishing that ANY should perish"...not one.  no matter what they've done.  no matter who they are.  no matter who they love.  no matter where they've been...or how long it's taken them to see...to accept...to repent...because all have sinned...and all need a Savior.  

I'm so thankful that God respects my freedom to choose...to believe or not to believe...

I'm so humbled that God, the God of the Universe, loved me...and you...little us...so much that He would die in our place so that we may live...

What a Good Friday!

Overheard in the Dietitians office...

I've had two appointments with a dietitian...

What I expected:
To be weighed.
To be measured.
To learn my BMI.
To be shocked by my BMI.
To be told what foods are bad.
To be bummed out about all the foods on the bad food list.
To be told what foods are good.
To not like any of those foods.
To be told I shouldn't eat certain foods.
To be told how much to exercise.
To be given a food plan filled with foods I've never heard of.
To feel overwhelmed by all of the information.

What actually happened...
I sat down and the dietitian began asking me questions.
It felt like a counseling session...and I was uncomfortable at first.
She asked why I was there.
"I'm 48, food sticks to my body like barnacles to a rock even though I exercise regularly and eat a healthy diet but sometimes I'm bad and have treats that I probably shouldn't...but not very often."
"Wait...why are you so judgmental of yourself?"
"Huh?"
"Food isn't bad...you're not bad for eating food."
"Well, I'm talking about cookies and sweets."
"Why are those foods bad?"
"Huh?"
This is when I first began reconsidering my ideas about food...and why I eat it.

All food is permitted...good...it's WHY you eat it that matters...
"When do you usually eat.  Do you know what hunger feels like?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Oh good, some people don't know that feeling...they've never allowed themselves to be truly physically hungry."
"Oh, wow."
"So, is that when you eat...when your stomach is growling?"
"No, not always."
"When are other times that you eat?"
"When I'm bored...upset...happy...celebrating...with friends or family...in social situations."
"OK, so you eat emotionally..."
"I do."

My first assignment was to write down or pay attention to what I was feeling every single time I reached for something to eat.  Am I physically hungry or is there some other reason?  I did it.  Here's the overwhelming reason I eat:  I reward myself...for running!
My mantra:  Will run for food.
I could write it with a black Sharpie on a piece of cardboard and attach it to my back when I'm running...it's that true...
What the heck?
I'm completely sabotaging my efforts!
That was unbelievably eye opening.
What to do?
Well, awareness is an amazing first step.  Once I know what I'm doing, I can make a choice to do something different...and I did...
I started rewarding myself in other ways...I'm drinking lots of water - a reward in itself - and doing nice things for me like taking a little more time to write.
I've bought myself succulent plants...I have several containers of succulents now...it's a little ridiculous, but really super fabulous at the same time!
I've bought more music on iTunes so my runs are more fun!
I have started to see running as it's own reward...my body thanks me...and I don't need to feed it...the run is something nice in and of itself!  (yes, I really do love to run!)
I'm starting to change my mind....the way my mind gets wrapped around food...and eating...and exercise.

So now my assignment is to learn to stop eating when I'm almost full...because if I'm almost full, I'm actually full...and I'll feel it in 20 minutes.
Looks like I'll have to stay away from Olive Garden and the unlimited salad and breadsticks...and Mexican restaurants with those glorious baskets of chips...or learn to eat just a little of those things and save myself for the entree...
So much to learn...

And yes, we did talk a bit about eating a balanced diet...cutting back on treats but not eliminating them because...well...they're treats!  Hallelujah!

I'm glad I went to see a dietitian...it wasn't at all what I expected and I'm actually relieved.  I don't do diets...and honestly, I don't do exercise well either, but I have changed my perceptions...the way I think about food...and that has changed the way I eat for the better.

Dumb Chicken!

This is Pearl.
She's my dumbest hen.
I've learned a lot about chickens in my time as a chicken lady...
They're chicken...as in scared...not species.
They aren't terribly smart.
They are generally followers, except for the hen at the top of the pecking order.
They're fast.
They're twitchy.
They squawk a lot.
They can destroy a patch of lawn in no time flat!
And other various things, the most important being that they are hilarious!
Pearl is a special kind of dumb.
She is near the bottom, if not ON the bottom of the pecking order.
She is a poor follower.
She is chicken...the most chicken hen I have.
I enter the pen and she starts running to get away from me,
sometimes running TOWARDS me, realizing her mistake and changing directions abruptly, squawking a warning of my aggression to her coop-mates...all of whom understand that I will be throwing them scratch and flock around my feet in anticipation...
Pearl is always on the edge of the crowd...missing the bulk of the treats.
I sometimes throw some out to her...
She runs away, frightened.
Dumb hen.
Lately, I've been letting the ladies out of the pen to feast on bugs, worms, green leafys and other goodies.  They generally stick close to the house and close together.
Even Pearl knows the drill.
Until it's time to go back into the pen.
After a few hours of scratching and nibbling and bathing in soft, dry dirt, the ladies are ready for a handful of scratch and the comforts of home.
I grab a handful of grain and call them back into the pen...
They come running...
Into the coop they go where I've thrown a handful or two of their favorite treat!
All, that is, except for Pearl.
She ALWAYS get's "stuck" outside the fence.
She runs back and forth, back and forth, back and forth...
"Where's the door...I can't find the door!" she squawks
She's in full panic mode...
Running, running, running...
back and forth...back and forth...
I say "Oh my gosh, you're so dumb!"
And I sigh and grab a little handful of scratch to give her a trail to the door...
It doesn't work.
She's too dumb to figure it out.
"It's over here!" I say
I move away from the door to give her room to come in without feeling threatened by my presence...
Nope.
She continues to panic.
She's sure the door is on that side of the pen...but WHERE did it go??
I usually give up after about 5 minutes of coaxing...By then the other ladies have eaten most of the scratch.
I go into the house and let her panic alone...the other hens watch her, I imagine what they must be thinking...it's no wonder she's on the bottom of the pecking order!
After she paces on the outside for about 15 minutes, she is calmer, perhaps able to think clearly (if that's even possible for her to do) and I go back out, into the pen again, grab some more scratch and THEN she figures it out.
It's a dance we do every single time they are allowed out of the coop...
every. single. time.
And I wonder...
Am I like Pearl?
When God wants to give me something, do I rely on my own ideas or thoughts or wisdom to find it?
Am I listening when He opens a door and says "Go right in and feast?"
Do I say "NO, you don't understand!  The door is on this side of the situation...THIS is the right way!"
The door to my coop is around a corner from where Pearl runs back and forth...
It takes a good amount of trust for a chicken hen to go around a corner...especially if the hen is as chicken as Pearl.
It takes a good amount of trust for me to step out of my own knowledge of what the situation is...to trust God's plan for my life.
I have to believe that He knows more...seems like a "duh" moment...it should be a "duh" moment, but I always seem to question and hesitate or turn the other way...I can't see the door.  I can't see that it's open.
I rely on myself, rejecting God's wisdom.
I don't want to be a Pearl...I want to go through doors the second they're opened...to reap the bounty of God's goodness...to step out in faith and not be so "chicken".
Thankfully God doesn't stand by the door saying "OH my gosh, you're so dumb!"...He lovingly waits...patiently...for me to stop being so....Pearl-like!
I'm working on it...God is good...the opportunities to grow in faith are endless and daily and I pray that someday I won't relate to creatures like Pearl!  :)
Isaiah 55:8-9  For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts higher than your thoughts.