If you are tired of hearing about my sprint distance triathlon at the Ludington Lighthouse in Ludington, Michigan, too bad. I anticipate this physical and emotional high will wear off in a another day or two. Today, I didn't crawl out of bed until after 9 AM. This is very unusual and a sign that the euphoria is wearing off.
I learned so much about myself this past Sunday. I challenge each of you to do something you don't think you can do, something way outside your comfort zone. I am not suggesting for a minute that everyone do a triathlon of any distance, or a marathon. What you do has to be something that you will enjoy, but right now see as beyond your means.
Always wanted to do a personal Bible study, but don't start because you don't have time? Make time. Want to lose weight, but are afraid of failing yet again? Figure out what foods make you feel good, and which ones make you feel blah. Eat the good ones; avoid the blah. There are too many "diets" out there. You need to do what works for your body and quit treating yourself as an experiment. Want to be healthy? Exercise. You don't have to join a gym, bench press a couple hundred pounds or run a 6-minute mile. Have a bike? Ride it. Have feet? Walk. Have a Wii? Get off the couch when you use it. Just move more. Wish you liked reading more? Get a book that interests you. Start with a few pages a day. What begins as personal discipline can quickly turn into a passion, particularly when you notice you feel better, you've lost a pound or two, you've finished your first book since college.
I can guarantee that when you reach a milestone in your goal, you will have no regrets. I have no regrets about this triathlon. I could say I wish I had trained better, practiced those bricks that are transitions from one discipline to another, investigated the wetsuit scenario more. All of those things would have benefited me and my overall time. They also would have changed my experience. My experience, though, was perfect. It was what it was meant to be. It was part of God's plan. My heart was light. My mind was clear. I know this competition happened exactly as God wanted it to.
Believe it or not, I went swimming the day after the race. I completed 6 whole laps, a mere 300 yards in a heated pool. Why, you ask, didn't I take the day off? I needed to quickly remind myself that I can swim freestyle with my face in the water. I am not limited to breaststroke. I also needed to move in a shock-free environment to loosen up my muscles. It worked. It worked so well, I went back to the gym Tuesday.
I created a new workout for myself. Remember, I hate running. However, I need to do some running to help with cardio. I needed some weight training, so I created a circuit. Triceps, biceps, run a lap. Adductors, abductors, run a lap. Lat pull, lat raise, run a lap. Leg press, seated calf, run a lap. Step, run a lap. I ran each lap. By the time I was done, I had run half a mile. I didn't hate it. I found a way to run that I enjoyed.
Find a way to accomplish your goal and enjoy it. Achievements should not bring a sense of, "Glad that's over." They should deliver a euphoria that makes you want to continue -- eating healthy, losing weight, exercising, reading books.
Whatever you do, make sure you do it with God. Pray about it. Be still and listen to God's still small voice. Make sure your plan is in tune with God's master plan for you.
No matter what you decide to do, know that it can be done.
All things are possible with God.
Thursday, August 22, 2013
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
All Things Are Possible....with God Part 3: The Run
Before we really get into the run, I need to visit something that happened during the bike. It was a moment that made my heart stop, made me sick to my stomach. I considered the bike turnaround the halfway point of the race. I made the turnaround and was elated. Less than 5 minutes later, my stomach was in my throat.
I was riding along, reciting "All things are possible with God who strengthens me," feeling the warm sun and the cool breeze off Lake Michigan. My gaze shifted from boats on the lake to the road ahead where I saw a biker down, and three vehicles on the side of the road. From a distance, the biker looked like our friend Tim -- same build, hair color, the whole nine yards. One of the cars on the side of the road was a silver Subaru -- same make and model Tim and his wife Ruth drive. You know what I was thinking.
I quickly realized the car didn't have the bumper sticker that makes their car easy for me to identify. In one moment, I felt a sense of relief only surpassed by guilt. I felt good it wasn't my friend. Did that mean I was glad it was someone else? Emergency personnel were already there. I am not a doctor. What could I do? I said a prayer of healing for the man, and kept pedaling. It was several minutes before my heart rate was normal for the activity I was in the midst of.
This event was in my mind for the remainder of the bike portion and all of the run. We take so many things for granted -- our health, that we really can do anything. The bottom line is, if it's not God's plan don't try to make it yours. This doesn't necessarily explain the mid-course injury that biker suffered. It does explain why some things we really want never come to fruition.
With these thoughts in my mind and my goal in sight, I finished the bike, transitioned, and started to run. I ran about a dozen steps. Seriously. Let me preface the rest by telling you I do not like to run. I have what are probably the two slowest 5k runs in history attributed to my name -- one Flint Crim and one Detroit Turkey Trot. I can swim, bike and lift weights with normal exertion and fatigue. Running hurts every fiber in my body. I have a terrible gait. I walk with a heavy heel; when I run, earthquake monitoring equipment sends off alerts. I also am a bit bustier than most runners which adds to the discomfort. Even preparing for the Ludington Lighthouse Spring Triathlon, I never planned on running the entire 5k portion. I figured I would run/walk. My friend Ruth was planning to walk it, and she walks fast. I was going to use her to pace myself. An injury prevented her from competing, so I walked alone.
I am distracted by flower gardens. This stretch of Lakeshore Drive had mop-head hydrangeas the likes of which I had never seen. There were even pink ones! You have to change the acidity of soil to get pink. There were spectators. I talked to every single one of them as I went by. I thanked them for being out there cheering us on. I talked to every runner and biker I saw. Any athlete knows, if you can have these conversations you are not exerting yourself enough. I knew this. I didn't care. I was relishing the experience.
My inability to run the first part of the course was compounded by the fact that even though my rear-end was happy to get off the bike, my legs were missing it and still trying to move in a circular motion. I could not find my stride. I knew all along I should have done those training "bricks" where you practice going from one discipline to another. Now I knew why. My muscles needed to be trained to quickly transition from the bike motion to the run motion. I walked almost a mile and a half before my legs felt normal.
The mile and a half point was the turnaround. I jogged to the turnaround and literally danced around that beautiful sign it. I let out a whoop! I did my dance. I started walking again. My enthusiasm was not lost on those around me. If I motivated one person to keep going, to go faster, to do something they had never done, I will gladly act the fool again. At that point, I did not just believe I could finish. I knew it. A mile and a half to go. I could crawl that far if it meant finishing.
For the remainder, I decided I had to run some. The course nicely alternated between sun and shade, so I decided to run in the shade and walk in the sun. That brought me back to the finish line. As I approached the chute, I saw my husband Paul, who had been at every transition so far, and my sister Cathy, who had finished ahead of me. I was walking. I told Cathy I would resume running when I reached the chute. Next time, I'll look ahead a bit farther. That chute was much longer than I thought!
As I hit the first timing panel, I looked up and saw the clock. It read 2:56. I finished in less than three hours! I was dead last, but I beat my goal! I stopped running and started to cry. Then a worker said, "Don't stop now." I wasn't done yet. There were two more timing panels before the finish line. I panicked. Every bit of adrenaline I had was devoured to get me the rest of the way at the 2:58 mark on that clock. I was still happy, and still crying. I had finished. I had met my goal. Better news was right around the corner, though.
The bright red, digital clock at the finish line was timing from the official 8 AM start, which was the men's Olympic distance wave. I looked at Paul. "What time did our wave start?" It was around 8:20 AM. My estimated time was closer to 2:38 or so. When official results were posted, my time was 2:34. Still last, but 26 minutes faster than my goal. Even after a battle with the wetsuit that cost me about 6 minutes, and terrible transition times, I was 26 minutes ahead of my goal.
I have already been asked by several people if I will do this again.
I will.
All things are possible with God who strengthens me.
I was riding along, reciting "All things are possible with God who strengthens me," feeling the warm sun and the cool breeze off Lake Michigan. My gaze shifted from boats on the lake to the road ahead where I saw a biker down, and three vehicles on the side of the road. From a distance, the biker looked like our friend Tim -- same build, hair color, the whole nine yards. One of the cars on the side of the road was a silver Subaru -- same make and model Tim and his wife Ruth drive. You know what I was thinking.
I quickly realized the car didn't have the bumper sticker that makes their car easy for me to identify. In one moment, I felt a sense of relief only surpassed by guilt. I felt good it wasn't my friend. Did that mean I was glad it was someone else? Emergency personnel were already there. I am not a doctor. What could I do? I said a prayer of healing for the man, and kept pedaling. It was several minutes before my heart rate was normal for the activity I was in the midst of.
This event was in my mind for the remainder of the bike portion and all of the run. We take so many things for granted -- our health, that we really can do anything. The bottom line is, if it's not God's plan don't try to make it yours. This doesn't necessarily explain the mid-course injury that biker suffered. It does explain why some things we really want never come to fruition.
With these thoughts in my mind and my goal in sight, I finished the bike, transitioned, and started to run. I ran about a dozen steps. Seriously. Let me preface the rest by telling you I do not like to run. I have what are probably the two slowest 5k runs in history attributed to my name -- one Flint Crim and one Detroit Turkey Trot. I can swim, bike and lift weights with normal exertion and fatigue. Running hurts every fiber in my body. I have a terrible gait. I walk with a heavy heel; when I run, earthquake monitoring equipment sends off alerts. I also am a bit bustier than most runners which adds to the discomfort. Even preparing for the Ludington Lighthouse Spring Triathlon, I never planned on running the entire 5k portion. I figured I would run/walk. My friend Ruth was planning to walk it, and she walks fast. I was going to use her to pace myself. An injury prevented her from competing, so I walked alone.
I am distracted by flower gardens. This stretch of Lakeshore Drive had mop-head hydrangeas the likes of which I had never seen. There were even pink ones! You have to change the acidity of soil to get pink. There were spectators. I talked to every single one of them as I went by. I thanked them for being out there cheering us on. I talked to every runner and biker I saw. Any athlete knows, if you can have these conversations you are not exerting yourself enough. I knew this. I didn't care. I was relishing the experience.
My inability to run the first part of the course was compounded by the fact that even though my rear-end was happy to get off the bike, my legs were missing it and still trying to move in a circular motion. I could not find my stride. I knew all along I should have done those training "bricks" where you practice going from one discipline to another. Now I knew why. My muscles needed to be trained to quickly transition from the bike motion to the run motion. I walked almost a mile and a half before my legs felt normal.
The mile and a half point was the turnaround. I jogged to the turnaround and literally danced around that beautiful sign it. I let out a whoop! I did my dance. I started walking again. My enthusiasm was not lost on those around me. If I motivated one person to keep going, to go faster, to do something they had never done, I will gladly act the fool again. At that point, I did not just believe I could finish. I knew it. A mile and a half to go. I could crawl that far if it meant finishing.
For the remainder, I decided I had to run some. The course nicely alternated between sun and shade, so I decided to run in the shade and walk in the sun. That brought me back to the finish line. As I approached the chute, I saw my husband Paul, who had been at every transition so far, and my sister Cathy, who had finished ahead of me. I was walking. I told Cathy I would resume running when I reached the chute. Next time, I'll look ahead a bit farther. That chute was much longer than I thought!
As I hit the first timing panel, I looked up and saw the clock. It read 2:56. I finished in less than three hours! I was dead last, but I beat my goal! I stopped running and started to cry. Then a worker said, "Don't stop now." I wasn't done yet. There were two more timing panels before the finish line. I panicked. Every bit of adrenaline I had was devoured to get me the rest of the way at the 2:58 mark on that clock. I was still happy, and still crying. I had finished. I had met my goal. Better news was right around the corner, though.
The bright red, digital clock at the finish line was timing from the official 8 AM start, which was the men's Olympic distance wave. I looked at Paul. "What time did our wave start?" It was around 8:20 AM. My estimated time was closer to 2:38 or so. When official results were posted, my time was 2:34. Still last, but 26 minutes faster than my goal. Even after a battle with the wetsuit that cost me about 6 minutes, and terrible transition times, I was 26 minutes ahead of my goal.
I have already been asked by several people if I will do this again.
I will.
All things are possible with God who strengthens me.
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
All Things are Possible...with God Part 2: The Bike
Throughout my training for the Ludington Sprint Triathlon, I envisioned the bike portion being my worst. I am a relatively strong swimmer, and can certainly walk three miles in 45 minutes. On my outdoor rides this summer, my highest average speed for any ride more than nine miles was about about 9 mph. That means my 12.5 mile ride would be about an hour and a half. I just knew the bike leg of the race would be the worst. I didn't know anything.
Leaving the transition area following the swim, I couldn't find my land legs. I thought I would run with the bike to the mount/dismount line, but my legs wouldn't work for a run gait. Walking was fine. So, I quickly walked that short distance. As I entered the mount area, one of the workers yelled out, "Way to go, 190 (my race number, strategically written all over my body with a large Sharpie marker)." Was she talking to me? She was!
Then the spectators started cheering. I listened. These wonderful people stood outside the transition area all morning, cheering for every single person. Talk about restoring your faith in humanity. They didn't cheer for their friends and family then walk away. They were there for everyone. The entire race was like this. Remember the swimmer who stopped to check on me? Every person encouraged every other person -- athletes, workers, volunteers, spectators, sheriff's deputies. It didn't matter. I have never felt so included in something that I thought I would be an outcast in. The encouragement makes you swim, bike and run just a little faster.
I looked at that worker and said, "I didn't drown. I can do anything now. Let's hope I don't crash on this leg of the race." And I rode away. I'd like to say I sped off into the beautiful sunrise and left everyone in my dust. I would be lying. I maintained a constant, steady pace for the entire 12.5 miles. When I was done, my official pace was 11.9 mph. Yes, that was my average for the bike. That means at times I went significantly faster, and peaked as high as 15 mph. This was the best bike time I have ever had.
As I entered the bike course, I made two decisions: Finish no matter how long it took, and talk to everyone as I went. I know that if I can talk easily, I'm not working hard enough. I should have been short of breath. I wasn't. I could have gone faster. I was afraid of getting to the run and not having any fuel left in the tank. I needed to pace myself.
The bike course is a straight shot up Lakeshore Drive from downtown Ludington to Ludington State Park. You turn around and go back. The out-and-back format meant you saw people more than once. You could see your friends and offer encouragement. You rode sandwiched between sand dunes with a spectacular view of Lake Michigan twice. It was beautiful. More than once, I caught myself sight-seeing instead of racing. It was liberating, breathtaking. It was awesome.
As I left the downtown area, I was replaying in my mind the instructions we had been given. Ride on right, run on the left. No drafting or blocking. Our course was not closed, so we had traffic to contend with. The sheriff's deputies working the event had no mercy on the cars. Cars waited for us. Self-preservation, however, does kick in. One driver was confused, lost or something. I couldn't tell where she was going. Apparently, her make and model of car didn't come equipped with turn signals. I was afraid to get next to her and have her turn into me so I slowed down. I didn't know bikes could go that slow without falling over! Then, the deputy yelled at me. "You have the right of way today, miss. You don't slow down for anyone." As I remarked that cars are bigger than bikes, I looked to see that he had stepped in front of that car to make her stop until all bike traffic had cleared. The pedals kicked back in to high speed.
My friend Tim, who started the race in a group after mine, then passed me on the bike. I saw my sister, Cathy, who had been ahead of me from the beginning, on her return trip. We offered each other encouragement. And kept pedaling. I felt the burn on a couple of long, low grades, but I also felt the wind whistle past my helmet on the return trip when I was speeding down those same hills.
The bike ride was peaceful. My mantra was going in my head. On the uphill portions, I said it out loud. "All things are possible with God who strengthens me." Over and over again. In sync with my pedaling. Four strokes of the pedal accompanied that phrase. I never stopped pedaling, and never stopping thinking, "All things are possible with God who strengthens me." I know I set a record for the number of consecutive times an individual said or thought the same phrase. It had to be 20,000 times. But I never got tired on the bike.
I maneuvered the turnaround like a pro, like I actually knew what I was doing. I didn't slip and slide on the loose sand blown across the road from the dunes. At one time, I just wanted to ride the bike forever. Alas, my rear-end and the bike seat were not getting along as well as I would have hoped by about mile 10. If my arms were tired from breaststroking the swim portion, my derriere was ready to rebel.
On the way back, I actually passed another competitor. I called out, "On your left" then proceeded to pass. I had never done that before. I not only knew the bike race rules, I got to use them! She was struggling. I felt bad passing her. I haven't had much opportunity to encourage others in physical fitness competitions, but I did here. "You got this. You're almost there." She smiled. That was enough. I continued talking and encouraging every competitor, even the ones who passed me.
As I got close to the transition area, I searched for the pink line. By the pink line, you have to be off the bike. No riding in the transition area. I spotted it and prepared to dismount. A squeeze of the brakes and off I jumped. Don't for a minute think I am one of those people who run to hop on the bike, and run as I hop off. I am not that coordinated and have a natural aversion to road rash. I got off the bike. Enough said.
When my feet hit the ground, the same worker who had wished me well 12.5 miles earlier congratulated me on a successful bike ride. She remembered me. Maybe because of my obnoxious hot pink tank, maybe because at this point I was second to last in my division. I don't care. She remembered me. "You didn't crash! You're in the home stretch now!"
I was in the home stretch. All I had to do was park my bike and complete the 5k. I had told myself all summer that, if needed, anyone could walk this distance equivalent to 3.1 miles. I also was beginning to feel like someone who could accomplish great things.
All things are possible with God who strengthens me.
Tomorrow, Part 3: The run
Monday, August 19, 2013
All Things are Possible...with God Part 1: The Swim
This is a long blog, much longer than I usually write. I'd like to think it's worth your time. The story is not about me, it's about what God allowed me to do. You see, I completed an amazing task in the company of amazing friends yesterday. Overweight, not in the shape I should have been, and behind in my training, I did a triathlon. I'd love to simply say, "I did it!" I can't say that. My body did the exercise; my mind kept me focused, but Jesus was my personal trainer yesterday.
Last winter, I apparently lost my mind and convinced my sister Cathy, who is a distance runner, that we should do a sprint distance triathlon. For those who don't know, a sprint tri is a 500-meter swim, a 20k bike, and a 5k run. Then, I convinced our friends Tim and Ruth to sign up. I can be very persuasive. My husband, Paul, knows this and withstood the pressure. To clearly illustrate how out of my mind I was, let me share my train of thought in February.
I can swim 500 meters in about 22 minutes now. I've got six months to improve that! Bike? Seriously, anyone can ride a bike! And a 5k, well at the very least I can walk, right?
Now, before you think I was totally delusional, I never expected to win. My only goal was to finish with an official time, meaning I wasn't still out on the course when the organizers packed up their timing equipment and went home. I also didn't want to finish last. I told myself, "Someone will get hurt." I was thinking sprained ankle, hamstring. More about that on the bike portion.
I let my training slide. I told myself the extensive yard work I love to do was sufficient cardio and weightlifting. It burned calories, but was definitely not in the category of "targeted workout." For a week before the tri, I was scared. I didn't sleep well. I didn't want to embarrass myself. I didn't want the "real" athletes to look at me and laugh. I certainly did not want anyone to watch me wrestle into that wetsuit. I even toyed with the idea of not using one. On Wednesday, I mowed the lawn and took a rock to the eye. En route to the doctor, I half-heartedly hoped my cornea was scratched and I would be medically barred from lake swimming. No, I was not in my right mind. Kind of like when I signed up.
No injury or illness came along to save me. I had to go. I had to race. We went to get our race packets, which included awesome shirts and not-so-awesome swim caps color coded for our gender and event. We looked at the swim course. We were very quiet. The first buoy, where we would turn and circle back, was very far away.
In the company of my amazing friends, who also are intelligent, logical people, we went to the optional, instructional meeting the day before the race. Tony V from Einstein Cycles should be a motivational speaker. As a trainer, he is one. His humor and knowledge put us a little more at ease. Then we found out, they wouldn't let us drown. Excellent! The goal of the people at 3Disciplines is to have everyone finish. They would have people on paddle boards and jet skis if you just needed to rest a bit during the swim. Resting would not disqualify you! I was amazed. Then it dawned on me. If you had to stop running, or biking for a rest, you would not be disqualified. It would just increase your time. We picked up our gear, now complete with rented wetsuits and went back to the motel to grill steaks.
No one slept well. Fear and adrenaline played a role. Noisy motel neighbors played a role. The 5 AM alarm came. We groaned. Coffee, oatmeal, yogurt and we were off. At the course by 6:30 to check in, get our timing chips, and for me to exchange my wetsuit. I needed a different size and a "shortie." There was no way I was going to manage the full-length version by myself and no one can help you get them off after the swim. Then we waited. Anticipation breeds fear. Small fears become big fears when you have time to dwell on them.
Moving down to the start, we prepared for our "wet start." Lake Michigan was a mere 64 degrees. This requires a start in the water rather than on the beach so competitors are acclimated to the water. We watched the Olympic distance men and women wade in and start. We were awed by their speed. Then it was our turn. We waded in. The wetsuit lessened the cold. You could wade past your bikini line without any trouble. Then our arms went in. I splashed my face. It took my breath away. So cold! I couldn't force myself to go all the way under. Not yet. This was a big mistake.
At the sound of the air horn, I dove forward to start my freestyle. Remember, 500 meters in a heated pool in 22 minutes or less, right? I managed a dozen or so strokes and my breathing wasn't rhythmic. I couldn't find my stroke. The cold water had taken my breath away and I couldn't get it back. By now, the water was very deep. I lost my head and started to panic. Did you know the severe cold combined with panic can trigger attacks in an asthmatic? So now I am out of breath, scared to death, and wheezing. I had gone about 50 meters.
This was the first time I thought, "I can do all things through God who strengthens me." I've never been good a memorizing verses. Philippians 4:13 says, "I can do all things through He who strengthens me." I edited the Bible in my mind to change He to God. I didn't want any doubt about who I was asking for strength.
I looked ahead. The first buoy was still so far away. If I couldn't regulate my breathing, I'd be done and disqualified before half the contestants even started. Somewhere, I found some resolve, and Philippians 4:13 again. I looked around. I wasn't the only one! Two other women had flagged down the first jet ski and were regaining their composure. They pushed off and the jet ski driver saw me. I put my hand up. She was there in seconds. I grabbed her ski and just held on. She was calm, asking if I was OK. I decided right then I would finish if it meant stopping every 50 meters. I told her I had trained in a pool and couldn't find my rhythm in the cold water. Putting my face in the water made it even worse. She told me to stay with her as long as needed. Then she pointed out the next paddle board. The operator was named Katie. Katie was only about 30 meters away. I could make it that far!
Off I went. Apparently, I don't learn from my mistakes. I tried to free style again, face in the water. Cold. Couldn't breathe. I switched to breaststroke. Breaststroke is the slowest stroke for any competitor. I can, however, breaststroke and maintain my breathing, keep an eye on the next buoy and not panic. I made it to Katie's paddle board, where I stopped to regroup. I was there less than a minute. When I swam off, again using breaststroke, she yelled after me that I was a smart swimmer! I was a smart swimmer because I brought more than one stroke and adjusted so I could regulate my breathing. Believe me, at that point, I wasn't feeling smart, but Katie said I was smart! Those words stayed with me the rest of the race. I didn't have to be fast. I was smart. And I had God's strength.
From that point, I went buoy to buoy with my slow breaststroke. Instead of looking at 420 meters to go, I was counting buoys. Four buoys to go, three buoys to go, two, one.... I stopped very briefly at each buoy to make sure I was ready for the next stretch. The wave of men who started after us caught up to me. I stayed at one buoy a few seconds longer to let the really fast guys pass. They were churning up wakes I didn't want to try and swim in. They were fast. I was smart.
At the last buoy, one young man stopped to make sure I was OK. He stopped. He stopped swimming, in deep, cold water to check on a middle-aged woman. He didn't tell me I had no business being out there. He told me I could do it. Finish strong, he said. This was the first time I cried at a competitor's kindness. My faith in humanity got a bit of replenishing. I assured him I was fine, just regrouping for the last leg to shore. He took off. Literally. The man must have been part fish.
I swam until I could touch bottom in chest-deep water. At that point, I could walk in the water faster than I could swim. My arms were shaky rubber. Wet suits zip in the back. I grabbed the string and pulled. It unzipped on the first try! I couldn't get my shoulders free, though. Every time I tried, I strangled myself. Then I remembered: velcro. I undid that and got my arms free. I had reserved a shortie. The rest should be easy to remove. Have you ever tried to take off a neoprene suit in 64-degree water with rubber arms? In my haste, I forgot to pull the leg below my knees. I ended up with the entire suit wrapped around my knees. Couldn't swim. Couldn't walk. Couldn't get it off. Couldn't pull it back up. Remember, no one can help. Spectators were watching from 20-feet away.
I decided to sit down in the water to wrestle with it better. The water was too deep. Neoprene floats. I ended up upside down in less than two feet of water. I was embarrassed. I had come in still in front of one competitor in my age group. I watched her go by and effortlessly get out of her wetsuit. I looked at the crowd and announced, "I didn't practice this part!" As evidenced by the fact that I am writing this and I finished the race, I did finally get out of the wetsuit. I estimate it cost me about 6 minutes of time and an immeasurable amount of self-esteem.
I wanted to kiss the sand, but didn't have time. I ran, then walked up the beach hill to the transition area. I got to my bike and saw my husband, Paul. I wanted to hug him. Spectators aren't allowed in the transition area, though. There was a purple fence between us. I was trying to dry off, constantly reminding myself I couldn't touch the bike until I had my helmet on. I survived the swim. There was no way I was going to be disqualified on a technicality. That transition took too long. I was talking to Paul, trying to catch my breath, trying to make sure the shoes I would bike and run in weren't full of sand. Paul finally said, "Don't you need to go?"
I went.
Tomorrow, All Things are Possible with God Part 2: The Bike
Last winter, I apparently lost my mind and convinced my sister Cathy, who is a distance runner, that we should do a sprint distance triathlon. For those who don't know, a sprint tri is a 500-meter swim, a 20k bike, and a 5k run. Then, I convinced our friends Tim and Ruth to sign up. I can be very persuasive. My husband, Paul, knows this and withstood the pressure. To clearly illustrate how out of my mind I was, let me share my train of thought in February.
I can swim 500 meters in about 22 minutes now. I've got six months to improve that! Bike? Seriously, anyone can ride a bike! And a 5k, well at the very least I can walk, right?
Now, before you think I was totally delusional, I never expected to win. My only goal was to finish with an official time, meaning I wasn't still out on the course when the organizers packed up their timing equipment and went home. I also didn't want to finish last. I told myself, "Someone will get hurt." I was thinking sprained ankle, hamstring. More about that on the bike portion.
I let my training slide. I told myself the extensive yard work I love to do was sufficient cardio and weightlifting. It burned calories, but was definitely not in the category of "targeted workout." For a week before the tri, I was scared. I didn't sleep well. I didn't want to embarrass myself. I didn't want the "real" athletes to look at me and laugh. I certainly did not want anyone to watch me wrestle into that wetsuit. I even toyed with the idea of not using one. On Wednesday, I mowed the lawn and took a rock to the eye. En route to the doctor, I half-heartedly hoped my cornea was scratched and I would be medically barred from lake swimming. No, I was not in my right mind. Kind of like when I signed up.
No injury or illness came along to save me. I had to go. I had to race. We went to get our race packets, which included awesome shirts and not-so-awesome swim caps color coded for our gender and event. We looked at the swim course. We were very quiet. The first buoy, where we would turn and circle back, was very far away.
In the company of my amazing friends, who also are intelligent, logical people, we went to the optional, instructional meeting the day before the race. Tony V from Einstein Cycles should be a motivational speaker. As a trainer, he is one. His humor and knowledge put us a little more at ease. Then we found out, they wouldn't let us drown. Excellent! The goal of the people at 3Disciplines is to have everyone finish. They would have people on paddle boards and jet skis if you just needed to rest a bit during the swim. Resting would not disqualify you! I was amazed. Then it dawned on me. If you had to stop running, or biking for a rest, you would not be disqualified. It would just increase your time. We picked up our gear, now complete with rented wetsuits and went back to the motel to grill steaks.
No one slept well. Fear and adrenaline played a role. Noisy motel neighbors played a role. The 5 AM alarm came. We groaned. Coffee, oatmeal, yogurt and we were off. At the course by 6:30 to check in, get our timing chips, and for me to exchange my wetsuit. I needed a different size and a "shortie." There was no way I was going to manage the full-length version by myself and no one can help you get them off after the swim. Then we waited. Anticipation breeds fear. Small fears become big fears when you have time to dwell on them.
Moving down to the start, we prepared for our "wet start." Lake Michigan was a mere 64 degrees. This requires a start in the water rather than on the beach so competitors are acclimated to the water. We watched the Olympic distance men and women wade in and start. We were awed by their speed. Then it was our turn. We waded in. The wetsuit lessened the cold. You could wade past your bikini line without any trouble. Then our arms went in. I splashed my face. It took my breath away. So cold! I couldn't force myself to go all the way under. Not yet. This was a big mistake.
At the sound of the air horn, I dove forward to start my freestyle. Remember, 500 meters in a heated pool in 22 minutes or less, right? I managed a dozen or so strokes and my breathing wasn't rhythmic. I couldn't find my stroke. The cold water had taken my breath away and I couldn't get it back. By now, the water was very deep. I lost my head and started to panic. Did you know the severe cold combined with panic can trigger attacks in an asthmatic? So now I am out of breath, scared to death, and wheezing. I had gone about 50 meters.
This was the first time I thought, "I can do all things through God who strengthens me." I've never been good a memorizing verses. Philippians 4:13 says, "I can do all things through He who strengthens me." I edited the Bible in my mind to change He to God. I didn't want any doubt about who I was asking for strength.
I looked ahead. The first buoy was still so far away. If I couldn't regulate my breathing, I'd be done and disqualified before half the contestants even started. Somewhere, I found some resolve, and Philippians 4:13 again. I looked around. I wasn't the only one! Two other women had flagged down the first jet ski and were regaining their composure. They pushed off and the jet ski driver saw me. I put my hand up. She was there in seconds. I grabbed her ski and just held on. She was calm, asking if I was OK. I decided right then I would finish if it meant stopping every 50 meters. I told her I had trained in a pool and couldn't find my rhythm in the cold water. Putting my face in the water made it even worse. She told me to stay with her as long as needed. Then she pointed out the next paddle board. The operator was named Katie. Katie was only about 30 meters away. I could make it that far!
Off I went. Apparently, I don't learn from my mistakes. I tried to free style again, face in the water. Cold. Couldn't breathe. I switched to breaststroke. Breaststroke is the slowest stroke for any competitor. I can, however, breaststroke and maintain my breathing, keep an eye on the next buoy and not panic. I made it to Katie's paddle board, where I stopped to regroup. I was there less than a minute. When I swam off, again using breaststroke, she yelled after me that I was a smart swimmer! I was a smart swimmer because I brought more than one stroke and adjusted so I could regulate my breathing. Believe me, at that point, I wasn't feeling smart, but Katie said I was smart! Those words stayed with me the rest of the race. I didn't have to be fast. I was smart. And I had God's strength.
From that point, I went buoy to buoy with my slow breaststroke. Instead of looking at 420 meters to go, I was counting buoys. Four buoys to go, three buoys to go, two, one.... I stopped very briefly at each buoy to make sure I was ready for the next stretch. The wave of men who started after us caught up to me. I stayed at one buoy a few seconds longer to let the really fast guys pass. They were churning up wakes I didn't want to try and swim in. They were fast. I was smart.
At the last buoy, one young man stopped to make sure I was OK. He stopped. He stopped swimming, in deep, cold water to check on a middle-aged woman. He didn't tell me I had no business being out there. He told me I could do it. Finish strong, he said. This was the first time I cried at a competitor's kindness. My faith in humanity got a bit of replenishing. I assured him I was fine, just regrouping for the last leg to shore. He took off. Literally. The man must have been part fish.
I swam until I could touch bottom in chest-deep water. At that point, I could walk in the water faster than I could swim. My arms were shaky rubber. Wet suits zip in the back. I grabbed the string and pulled. It unzipped on the first try! I couldn't get my shoulders free, though. Every time I tried, I strangled myself. Then I remembered: velcro. I undid that and got my arms free. I had reserved a shortie. The rest should be easy to remove. Have you ever tried to take off a neoprene suit in 64-degree water with rubber arms? In my haste, I forgot to pull the leg below my knees. I ended up with the entire suit wrapped around my knees. Couldn't swim. Couldn't walk. Couldn't get it off. Couldn't pull it back up. Remember, no one can help. Spectators were watching from 20-feet away.
I decided to sit down in the water to wrestle with it better. The water was too deep. Neoprene floats. I ended up upside down in less than two feet of water. I was embarrassed. I had come in still in front of one competitor in my age group. I watched her go by and effortlessly get out of her wetsuit. I looked at the crowd and announced, "I didn't practice this part!" As evidenced by the fact that I am writing this and I finished the race, I did finally get out of the wetsuit. I estimate it cost me about 6 minutes of time and an immeasurable amount of self-esteem.
I wanted to kiss the sand, but didn't have time. I ran, then walked up the beach hill to the transition area. I got to my bike and saw my husband, Paul. I wanted to hug him. Spectators aren't allowed in the transition area, though. There was a purple fence between us. I was trying to dry off, constantly reminding myself I couldn't touch the bike until I had my helmet on. I survived the swim. There was no way I was going to be disqualified on a technicality. That transition took too long. I was talking to Paul, trying to catch my breath, trying to make sure the shoes I would bike and run in weren't full of sand. Paul finally said, "Don't you need to go?"
I went.
Tomorrow, All Things are Possible with God Part 2: The Bike
Saturday, July 27, 2013
And the Witnesses Came...
I've often played over in mind what I would do when inevitably the Jehovah's Witnesses came knocking. I had heard they were out and about again. I was determined to be ready. I was ready for teenagers, young adults, middle-aged couples. I was not ready for the octogenarian couple -- and he legally blind -- that showed up at my door.
I am confident they believed our dog, Brando, is the original hell hound. Brando greeted them with more than his usual barking and had to be dragged away from the door. He surely believed they were opposed to kibble and dogs sleeping in people beds. I wasn't expecting company and certainly wasn't dressed for it. Marge Simpson would have been more presentable on a bad day.
I saw the tracts through the window. Watchtower jumped out at me. Even in my discombobulated state, I was attempting to quickly retrieve all of the comebacks, retorts, and wisecracks that had been set aside in the dark recesses of my mind for this occasion. Yes, I would stoop to rudeness and sarcasm in the name of Christ. Then I opened the door.
I was greeted by Harry, who is legally blind, and his wife. Harry carried a cane with one arm and used the other to gently hold his spouse's arm as she guided him.
God never means for us to be sarcastic or rude when discussing Christianity with others. We are to show compassion, love and the truth. I am eternally grateful that the Holy Spirit overtook me at the right time. I did exemplify compassion and love.
When Mrs. Witness -- I regret not getting her name so I could pray specifically for her -- started her speech, I calmly let her finish. I told her we attend a local church that taught the Bible as it is written and as the Word of God. She mentioned the Jehovah's Witness translation, New World Translation of the Holy Scriptures, and urged me to study the true Word of God. I wanted to argue, to "put her in her place." A still small voice said I couldn't do that. My Witness was 80 years old for crying out loud.
I told her that while I do not proclaim to know everything, I do study and I use multiple translations. While God's Word is infallible, people are not. Language and cultural differences from Biblical times to the modern day make it difficult to understand Scripture sometimes; multiple versions help. I must have sounded convincing. She moved to her next topic.
"We're told to go out and spread the news," she said. "We certainly are, I replied." I told her I was familiar with the end of Matthew and referenced the Great Commission.
"19 Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, 20 and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” Matthew 28:19-20, NIV.
She nodded and smiled. I reminded her that no religion can pick and choose which verses to follow. If you want this one, you take all of them. In context. It's a package deal. She nodded and said they had other homes to visit. I wished them well, and encouraged them to enjoy the beautiful Michigan weather. She nodded, and guided Harry off the porch and back to the car.
This encounter was not what I had planned. Because of God's intervention in my heart, it was better than anything I could have come up with. I wish I spent more time daily acting on my heart and less time responding with my quick wit and sarcastic tongue. I'm working on it. God's working on me.
I don't know if I made a difference in the lives of these two Jehovah's Witnesses. I know their version of Christianity, which really isn't Christianity, is flawed. I am not an expert, but I do understand the major stumbling blocks. Jehovah's Witnesses believe:
Again, I am not an expert on what Jehovah's Witnesses believe. I felt it important to include a few differences between their believes and Christianity so readers will understand why I was so determined to be armed when they inevitably arrived. Unfortunately, I had prepped for military conquest when what was needed was love and kindness.
How often do we prepare for a situation in the wrong way? We assume the worst will happen, brace ourselves with harsh words and a stiff backbone. We forget that we can be resolute in our beliefs and stand firm in our convictions while still being nice.
Except in rare occasions -- when overturning the money-changers table in the tabernacle, for example, Jesus did not yell, scream and argue. And he was the message. I cannot find in the Bible where he raised his voice past rebuking. He talked. Jesus taught. Jesus set an example. That's what we are called to do. We should be going door to door telling people of Christ's love for them. We should be demonstrating Christ's love for them. Yes, doors will be closed. Some people will be sarcastic and rude. You might reach one, though.
Love. They will know we are Christians not because we tell them, but because we love.
I will leave you with this Biblical description of love, not a definition from Webster or Wikipedia. Which characteristics could you demonstrate this week?
I am confident they believed our dog, Brando, is the original hell hound. Brando greeted them with more than his usual barking and had to be dragged away from the door. He surely believed they were opposed to kibble and dogs sleeping in people beds. I wasn't expecting company and certainly wasn't dressed for it. Marge Simpson would have been more presentable on a bad day.
I saw the tracts through the window. Watchtower jumped out at me. Even in my discombobulated state, I was attempting to quickly retrieve all of the comebacks, retorts, and wisecracks that had been set aside in the dark recesses of my mind for this occasion. Yes, I would stoop to rudeness and sarcasm in the name of Christ. Then I opened the door.
I was greeted by Harry, who is legally blind, and his wife. Harry carried a cane with one arm and used the other to gently hold his spouse's arm as she guided him.
God never means for us to be sarcastic or rude when discussing Christianity with others. We are to show compassion, love and the truth. I am eternally grateful that the Holy Spirit overtook me at the right time. I did exemplify compassion and love.
When Mrs. Witness -- I regret not getting her name so I could pray specifically for her -- started her speech, I calmly let her finish. I told her we attend a local church that taught the Bible as it is written and as the Word of God. She mentioned the Jehovah's Witness translation, New World Translation of the Holy Scriptures, and urged me to study the true Word of God. I wanted to argue, to "put her in her place." A still small voice said I couldn't do that. My Witness was 80 years old for crying out loud.
I told her that while I do not proclaim to know everything, I do study and I use multiple translations. While God's Word is infallible, people are not. Language and cultural differences from Biblical times to the modern day make it difficult to understand Scripture sometimes; multiple versions help. I must have sounded convincing. She moved to her next topic.
"We're told to go out and spread the news," she said. "We certainly are, I replied." I told her I was familiar with the end of Matthew and referenced the Great Commission.
"19 Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, 20 and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” Matthew 28:19-20, NIV.
She nodded and smiled. I reminded her that no religion can pick and choose which verses to follow. If you want this one, you take all of them. In context. It's a package deal. She nodded and said they had other homes to visit. I wished them well, and encouraged them to enjoy the beautiful Michigan weather. She nodded, and guided Harry off the porch and back to the car.
This encounter was not what I had planned. Because of God's intervention in my heart, it was better than anything I could have come up with. I wish I spent more time daily acting on my heart and less time responding with my quick wit and sarcastic tongue. I'm working on it. God's working on me.
I don't know if I made a difference in the lives of these two Jehovah's Witnesses. I know their version of Christianity, which really isn't Christianity, is flawed. I am not an expert, but I do understand the major stumbling blocks. Jehovah's Witnesses believe:
- There is no trinity.
- From Wikipedia, "Jehovah's Witnesses consider the Bible to be scientifically and historically accurate and reliable and interpret much of it literally, but accept parts of it as symbolic." The reference adds that statements from their elder board carry almost as much weight as the actual Scriptures.
- Their version of the Bible, New World Translation of the Scriptures, is the preferred version.
- They don't celebrate Christmas, Easter or birthdays, believing them to have pagan origins. Ironically, a former co-worker of mine who professed to be a devout Witness would not give gifts because it was against her religion. That same religion allowed her to graciously accept gifts.
Again, I am not an expert on what Jehovah's Witnesses believe. I felt it important to include a few differences between their believes and Christianity so readers will understand why I was so determined to be armed when they inevitably arrived. Unfortunately, I had prepped for military conquest when what was needed was love and kindness.
How often do we prepare for a situation in the wrong way? We assume the worst will happen, brace ourselves with harsh words and a stiff backbone. We forget that we can be resolute in our beliefs and stand firm in our convictions while still being nice.
Except in rare occasions -- when overturning the money-changers table in the tabernacle, for example, Jesus did not yell, scream and argue. And he was the message. I cannot find in the Bible where he raised his voice past rebuking. He talked. Jesus taught. Jesus set an example. That's what we are called to do. We should be going door to door telling people of Christ's love for them. We should be demonstrating Christ's love for them. Yes, doors will be closed. Some people will be sarcastic and rude. You might reach one, though.
Love. They will know we are Christians not because we tell them, but because we love.
I will leave you with this Biblical description of love, not a definition from Webster or Wikipedia. Which characteristics could you demonstrate this week?
If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. 2 If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. 3 If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.
4 Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5 It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.6 Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
8 Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues,they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. 9 For we know in part and we prophesy in part, 10 but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears. 11 When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. 12 For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.
13 And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love. 1 Corinthians 13, NIV
Go, make disciples.
Friday, July 19, 2013
Why two mosquitoes?
We spent the past week in Michigan's upper peninsula enjoying family time at Gitche Gumee Bible Camp in Eagle River. It was a wonderful time learning and reflecting on God, Christ, and our responsibilities as Christians. Even the drive home had a lesson.
Driving through one small, Northern Michigan town or another, we saw a sign that read, "Why didn't Noah swat those two mosquitoes?" We laughed. I alone am sporting more than 40 bites. This is particularly bothersome since I am allergic to them. Right now, I look and feel like one giant hive.
As I drove, my passengers napped and focused on their electronic gadgets. During this quiet time, my mind kept wandering back to that sign. On an eleven-hour car ride, that's a lot of wandering. It wasn't until we were almost home that the simple answer hit me. Why didn't Noah swat those two mosquitoes? Obedience.
Driving through one small, Northern Michigan town or another, we saw a sign that read, "Why didn't Noah swat those two mosquitoes?" We laughed. I alone am sporting more than 40 bites. This is particularly bothersome since I am allergic to them. Right now, I look and feel like one giant hive.
As I drove, my passengers napped and focused on their electronic gadgets. During this quiet time, my mind kept wandering back to that sign. On an eleven-hour car ride, that's a lot of wandering. It wasn't until we were almost home that the simple answer hit me. Why didn't Noah swat those two mosquitoes? Obedience.
8 But Noah found favor in the eyes of the Lord. Genesis 6:8 (NIV)
Noah had a track record with God. He was obedient. God knew he could tell Noah to do something and it would be done exactly as directed. He built an ark that was essentially a floating box without asking questions! Noah then put two of every kind of creature on the boat. Every kind.
Be thankful Noah was building the ark and not me. I can hear me now. "Um, God, how about some more windows? And you know, we might want to steer this thing." I would have had lots of windows -- for the rain to come in for 40 days and nights and sink the boat. And where exactly would I have steered to? The entire world was under water.
Even if I had managed to build the ark to HIs specifications without second-guessing everything, I can only imagine me standing at the entrance to the ark as the animals gathered:
Sheep? Excellent. We can make clothing out of your wool if it gets chilly floating along. Chickens? Eggs are tasty. Might need those when we land. Dogs? Man's best friend. Come on in. Cats? Sorry, no. I'm allergic and in these close quarters that just doesn't seem like a good idea. Mosquitoes? SWAT! Cool. Two for one. Now, where's that unicorn?
You know why my scenario plays out this way? Because I struggle with obedience. I like to be in control. I can do it better, faster, smarter than God. I am not always the sharpest tool in the shed, or the brightest star in the sky.
God picked Noah because Noah was obedient. Noah found favor with God. I cannot help but think what awesome responsibility God has for each of us that we haven't been assigned yet, because we haven't been obedient.
If you feel God telling you to do something, do it. This isn't the feeling of you wanting to do something and then trying to twist everything that happens into a "sign from above." If it is a true calling, you have found favor and only need to follow God's direction. It might take 40 days and nights of rain before the rainbow shows itself, but your choice to follow God will always be the right one.
Noah had a track record with God. He was obedient. God knew he could tell Noah to do something and it would be done exactly as directed. He built an ark that was essentially a floating box without asking questions! Noah then put two of every kind of creature on the boat. Every kind.
Be thankful Noah was building the ark and not me. I can hear me now. "Um, God, how about some more windows? And you know, we might want to steer this thing." I would have had lots of windows -- for the rain to come in for 40 days and nights and sink the boat. And where exactly would I have steered to? The entire world was under water.
Even if I had managed to build the ark to HIs specifications without second-guessing everything, I can only imagine me standing at the entrance to the ark as the animals gathered:
Sheep? Excellent. We can make clothing out of your wool if it gets chilly floating along. Chickens? Eggs are tasty. Might need those when we land. Dogs? Man's best friend. Come on in. Cats? Sorry, no. I'm allergic and in these close quarters that just doesn't seem like a good idea. Mosquitoes? SWAT! Cool. Two for one. Now, where's that unicorn?
You know why my scenario plays out this way? Because I struggle with obedience. I like to be in control. I can do it better, faster, smarter than God. I am not always the sharpest tool in the shed, or the brightest star in the sky.
God picked Noah because Noah was obedient. Noah found favor with God. I cannot help but think what awesome responsibility God has for each of us that we haven't been assigned yet, because we haven't been obedient.
If you feel God telling you to do something, do it. This isn't the feeling of you wanting to do something and then trying to twist everything that happens into a "sign from above." If it is a true calling, you have found favor and only need to follow God's direction. It might take 40 days and nights of rain before the rainbow shows itself, but your choice to follow God will always be the right one.
Monday, July 15, 2013
On Being a Mentor and a Mentee
We all have so much more to learn about God, worship, and simply being people of faith. We are surrounded by people older, wiser and more faithful than we are. We need to pay attention to them, to learn from them.
Each of us, however, is also surrounded by people who could benefit from our experiences, wisdom and faith. I have often wanted to mentor others and as a high school teacher that opportunity presents itself often. I appreciate every opportunity to help those around me grow. Unfortunately, the public school is not a place I can scream Jesus' name from the rooftops. Instead, I try to model Christ's behavior and wait for someone to ask, "How can you stay so calm?" and "Why don't you get mad?"
For a few years now, I have asked my middle-aged self, "Are you a mentor or a mentee?" I wonder when the shift from mentee to mentor occurs. Is it a certain age? A certain milestone in my Christian walk? Is it after I memorize a certain number of Bible verses?
This week, while vacationing at Gitche Gumee Bible Camp in Eagle River, Michigan, I have found the answer. We never transition from mentee to mentor. If we are walking the walk, following the path Christ set out for us, then we are firmly entrenched in both roles.
True disciples of Christ understand they have never arrived; they never reach a point when they have nothing left to learn. They also understand, however, that part of the mission is to bring others to Christ -- that's being a mentor.
Upon reflection, I realized I have two mentors from my church. I won't name them publicly. You'd want them as mentors, and then I would have to share. I , rather selfishly, want them all to myself. These women are mentors, friends, women in Christ. They probably don't even know I have appointed them to the position of Jen's Mentors. Each teaches me different things about being a woman of Christ. Both teach me about being a Christian wife and mother.
I don't have it "easy" by the American definition of life. Our family budget is tight. Kids want things. For that matter, I want things. We don't go on cruises, or out for weekly steak dinners. We don't drive new, fancy cars. We have what we need. I have peace. I am the parent of two teenagers. I do not have quiet, but I do have peace -- in Christ.
I grew up in a Presbyterian church and for my entire childhood and teen years I listened to the same pastor close every service with this as his benediction: "May the peace that passes all understanding be in abide with you this day and forever more." It's only been recently that I truly understand that level of peace. It is truly a wonderful feeling.
This benediction is based on a letter to the church at Philippi, in which Paul wrote, "Then you will experience God's peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus." (Philippians 4:7, NASB) It is a peace we cannot describe.
I have this peace because I understand and usually ackniwledge that I am not in control. God is. To say my life is less than perfect would be to call Him a failure. I am not in the habit of calling the God of the universe a failure. I get mad sometimes; I've been on my knees screaming at Him at times. I am brutally honest with God. I might as well be. He knows my heart anyway.
God knows I want to share my peace with other women so they, too, can understand it. I sleep at night. I mean really sleep. Not with noises and jerky movements like a baby, but like a teenager who stayed up too late and appears still comatose at the crack of noon. Every night I give my troubles, worries (and thanks) to God. I don't reach out and take them back. I talk to God and give him my cares. I sleep.
If I were your mentor, I would tell you to give your troubles to God. We can do nothing for ourselves, but through Him all things are possible. Thank Him for your blessings. Thank Him for your mentors, even if they don't realize they are mentors. Ask Him how to be a mentor. Share your experiences, wisdom and faith walk. Share your experiences, wisdom and faith walk. Share by example. Answer questions with transparency. Walk the walk. Mentor.
In Matthew 28:19-20, Jesus gives his disciples their mission. We know it as the Great Commission:
"Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age." (NIV)
How can we teach them if we don't develop relationships? How can we teach those we don't interact with? Be a mentor. Teach others about Christ and the ultimate sacrifice he gave for us.
Wednesday, July 3, 2013
Is the glass half full or half empty?
Recently, I saw one of those social media pictures designed to make you laugh, and to think. It was a glass depicted as half full. The caption labeled the bottom half as full of water and the top half as full of air. The entire glass was "full" of something! Wow, even things that appear empty never are.
I decided to apply this to our recent fire. For those who are not aware, a storm blew through town June 27. This storm brought with it high winds and flooding in many areas. It brought us a downed power line, very much full of current, torching our shed and our maple tree. Our home does not have a garage or basement so you can imagine all of the items we lost. It was leveled. We have insurance. Stuff can be replaced.
Too many people would see this experience as a glass half empty - maybe even totally empty. I cannot see it that way. It's not a miracle that our home, and that of our neighbors', was spared. A very capable fire department was here. God was here. His hand was in this. He sent me a sign.
As the rain poured down, we stood helpless and watched 18 years of sporting equipment, lawn equipment, and camping gear evaporate before our eyes. We prayed for containment. At the peak of my helplessness, I yelled at my husband, "Where's my rainbow?" I desperately needed a sign. I know God is always with me, that Christ died for me, and yet in a moment of panic I needed something tangible. Grabbing my shoulders, my wonderful husband turned me around and pointed, "There. Right there is your rainbow." It was the biggest, grandest rainbow I have ever seen. We could see both ends! Sobbing, I was reaffirmed that God never forsakes His children. Sometimes, we aren't listening, or facing the right direction. We take our eyes off Him.
In the grand scheme of things, our tragedy is minor. We'll get a new shed, new stuff to put in it. There's a plan in place for a new maple tree. Our glass, to a non-Christian, is just about empty. To me, it is full to the brim, even overflowing, with the Holy Spirit. What a blessing. I almost look forward to standing in ashes doing the clean-up this weekend.
Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go. Joshua 1:9, NIV
I decided to apply this to our recent fire. For those who are not aware, a storm blew through town June 27. This storm brought with it high winds and flooding in many areas. It brought us a downed power line, very much full of current, torching our shed and our maple tree. Our home does not have a garage or basement so you can imagine all of the items we lost. It was leveled. We have insurance. Stuff can be replaced.
Too many people would see this experience as a glass half empty - maybe even totally empty. I cannot see it that way. It's not a miracle that our home, and that of our neighbors', was spared. A very capable fire department was here. God was here. His hand was in this. He sent me a sign.
As the rain poured down, we stood helpless and watched 18 years of sporting equipment, lawn equipment, and camping gear evaporate before our eyes. We prayed for containment. At the peak of my helplessness, I yelled at my husband, "Where's my rainbow?" I desperately needed a sign. I know God is always with me, that Christ died for me, and yet in a moment of panic I needed something tangible. Grabbing my shoulders, my wonderful husband turned me around and pointed, "There. Right there is your rainbow." It was the biggest, grandest rainbow I have ever seen. We could see both ends! Sobbing, I was reaffirmed that God never forsakes His children. Sometimes, we aren't listening, or facing the right direction. We take our eyes off Him.
In the grand scheme of things, our tragedy is minor. We'll get a new shed, new stuff to put in it. There's a plan in place for a new maple tree. Our glass, to a non-Christian, is just about empty. To me, it is full to the brim, even overflowing, with the Holy Spirit. What a blessing. I almost look forward to standing in ashes doing the clean-up this weekend.
Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go. Joshua 1:9, NIV
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
Why a blog?
Many days, I feel I have something worthwhile to say, something God wants me to share. Our testimonies should not be hidden under a bushel, but screamed from the rooftops. Ultimately, I would like to write a book for Him. That seems a Herculean task so I am starting here.
My life has been a rose garden, complete with thorns. Thorns can be painful, but they also make us who we are. Thorns are part of some of the most beautiful flowers in the world. Even when my rose garden had more in common with a cactus field than it did the Garden of Eden, I felt God with me. Christ is always with you, too.
I also have found that posting these types of messages in forums such as Facebook is alienating some of those who I would most like to reach. I desperately want to keep that communication open. They can choose to explore these additional writings when their hearts are ready.
So, God has called me to share, to write. Here I am. Trying to be as obedient as Noah.
And Noah did all that the Lord commanded him. Gen. 7:5, NIV
My life has been a rose garden, complete with thorns. Thorns can be painful, but they also make us who we are. Thorns are part of some of the most beautiful flowers in the world. Even when my rose garden had more in common with a cactus field than it did the Garden of Eden, I felt God with me. Christ is always with you, too.
I also have found that posting these types of messages in forums such as Facebook is alienating some of those who I would most like to reach. I desperately want to keep that communication open. They can choose to explore these additional writings when their hearts are ready.
So, God has called me to share, to write. Here I am. Trying to be as obedient as Noah.
And Noah did all that the Lord commanded him. Gen. 7:5, NIV
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