Running

Someone asked me yesterday how to get started running. This was an interesting question, and I definitely had an answer, though I'd never articulated it before.

Having run a few thousand miles in college, I took a big break from it during grad school and nursing school. I mean, I didn't run a step, except to the toilet (those of you with IBS can sympathize). Don't get me wrong, I was active. I cycled, I kickboxed, did yoga, lifted some weights, hiked a few good trails, but I didn't run. In fact, I hated running. I loathed it. I hated sucking wind. I hated wanting to puke after a good sprint. I hated that I couldn't run 6 miles like I used to. Oh dang, there's the kicker.

Realizing that my hatred of running stemmed from the fact that I was actually incapable of doing it hit me like a drunk guy in a bar fight. Ow.

So with the goal of completing an Olympic distance triathlon in 7 months, I started running again. First, I'd run a few minutes, then walk some, then run again, then walk more, hoping I wouldn't pass out. Thankfully I had a few friends that also liked this idea, so we ventured out around Duke's East Campus a few times a week. Soon I was up to a mile, then two, then three whole miles without walking. Before, in college, three miles seemed pretty wimpy, but now it was a great victory.

Soon it was four, and walking one at the end. Then, one day, I was overcome. I woke up and thought, dangit, I'm doing six today, without stopping. One full hour of running steady, so help me God. And He did but not how I expected.

I started my run nice and easy, not wanting to putter out a mile five, and cruised around our neighborhood up towards East Campus. Then I pushed through a few of those hills for another two miles, and felt ok. Soon, I headed up to Duke Gardens, and that's when it hit the fan...or rather the pavement. Every step was agony as my feet grew heavier and more leaden. Every breath burned as I suffered up hills and through the gorgeous and fragrent gardens at Duke. All I smelled was hell and sweat. Thoughts of someone's grandma, out for a morning stroll, stumbling across my lifeless body down by the fish pond, the police trying to track down my identity and contacting my next of kin, kept crossing my mind.

This run would be the end of me.

But I kept going, dragging myself home, but still running...kind of.

And how I hurt the day after. My legs, booty, abs, feet, aching aching aching. What was I thinking? This training is just the stupidest thing I've ever done.

Still, the commitment I made outweighed my misery. This was about discipline and perseverance and kicking butt.

So I went out a few days later and ran the 6 miles again, and believe or not, it was easy. It was glorious. It was even fun.

Now I'm up to 9 miles, and still having a blast. My knees ache a little sometimes, but its so worth the pain for time on the pavement, running through my city, talking with my running buddies, and striving after the goal. Come May 30, I think I'll be ready to face the mountain at the Over-the-Mountain Triathlon.

I better be.

The Vision

Having been a Christian for 13 years, involved in a number of churches and para-church organizations, I've heard my fair share of sermons and seen people moved to tears by preaching and worship. Often I see them through my own tears.

But today was different. Today was serious. It was emotional, yes, but even more, it was real. Honest. True. Difficult. Right.

Today the call went out to the people of our church to forsake their own agendas for the sake of the gospel. What does that mean, really? It means that we see that Jesus, in His great love, died for us to reconcile us to God the Father, and we respond to His sacrifice by making His name known among people who don't know Him, no matter where or no matter what it takes, we must make Him known.

Why make Him known? Two reasons. One, He is worthy of the worship of the nations, and they can only worship Him if they know Him. Two, people everywhere are lost and in need, and we know what joy can be found in knowing and trusting Christ for a hope and a future. We have the answer to the questions.

So why was today different? What made this call matter to me so much? Many of you know that Chris and I want to move overseas and serve God. That's nothing new for us. However, a number of people finally took a deep breath, closed their eyes, and said yes. Yes to the mission, yes to the vision, yes to going somewhere and doing what Jesus did--healing the sick, feeding the poor, and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom of God.

A dear friend of mine told me today that she was saying yes. She doesn't know when or where or how, but she's in. With tears in her eyes and on her cheeks, she surrendered. And she will go. I know she will. If anything, telling me that she will go holds her accountable to the calling. I will constantly remind her of what God did in her heart and what words came out of her mouth on Jan 25, 2009 till she is in another country serving for the glory of God.

That's why today was different. The Vision of the Summit proclaimed, to plant 1000 churches in 30 years, and the call for people to go heeded, amen.

L&D

Most of you know that I work in Labor and Delivery at UNC. Today we had 15+ babies (give or take a few) in less than 12 hours, and now I'm home with my honey and can barely keep my eyes open to write this blog. So many new lives arriving, and so many old lives changing forever. Its exhausting being part of the process, but also kind of incredible. While Chris and I will probably wait a few more years to have our own kids, I am truly blessed to be invited into the births of countless others. So thanks to my moms for being so sweet and so brave and so strong, and for letting myself and my coworkers to take part in one of the coolest days your lives. Now I'm going to bed.

my bad

I have the honor of being a table host for the Summit Church's Starting Point team, which means every other month I get free dinner from Honey's and help walk people through the membership process of our church. Now, this process is not a quick signature and polaroid snapshot after which we extend the right hand of fellowship. No sir--we have to actually make sure that the people that are joining the Summit agree with the doctrines of the church and truly are committed to the mission and vision laid out by our elders and pastors. Imagine that. This means we table hosts have the privilege of asking the guests around our table some very personal questions about their spiritual life, theological questions, and thoughts about the Summit. Yeah, kind of awkward.

Tonight was a pleasant surprise. The people at my table were all friendly, clean, normal type people. They had all made commitments to Jesus and were ready to join the church with very little question.

I however, had a question, which took "awkward" to a whole new level. Two of my guests, a guy and gal who were both young, attractive, single people came in together, sat together, and were obviously well acquainted. When asked what they did in their spare time, both mentioned spending time together. When it came time to do the individual interviews, I asked if they wanted to do them together, since I always interview couples as couples. That's just my style. Casually, while looking over my questions, I mentioned, "Yeah, we can do you guys together since you're dating." The silence that followed demanded a little more of my attention. "You are dating?" They both shook their heads, glancing at each other and at me. "No, we're just friends." Yeah, the cuss words going through my head probably aren't appropriate to put into writing. "Or we can go individually. You choose," I hurriedly added. They decided to go ahead and interview together, being the good friends they were.

Trying to cover my obviously inappropriate assumption, I said something about how having a guy or girl that was a good friend sure was something rare, something special. I could feel myself getting warmer as my face began to turn a color similar to the bright orange scarf wrapped around my neck. I quickly pulled it off. No need to encourage comparison.

The rest of our interview went without a hitch, and they were both lovely people who will contribute significantly to the Summit. Still, I sure wish I could have heard their conversation on the way home. Or perhaps the awkward silence...I guess we table host are good for something.

Adventure

We're watching the Bourne Ultimatum at my in-laws house, and, as usual, my pulse is up and I'm sweating a little--not because Matt Damon is easy on the eyes, but because this story line oozes excitement, suspense, and adventure.  Here's a guy who jets from one place to another trying to figure out who he is and what in the world he is about.  

It made me wonder, why do we love this movie?  What is so appealing about a guy with amnesia kicking major you know what?  

Maybe its because we want justice like Bourne wants justice.  Maybe its because we recognize that our world is jacked and needs someone to rescue it.  Maybe we want to know who we are and what we were made for.  Maybe its because we want, even need, a little more adventure. 

How many people have I met that are trying to "find themselves"?  How many have said, "I just don't know who I am"?  Bourne tries to find his answer in his past, and in plotting revenge on those who wronged him.  Others try to find it in their jobs, their friends, their hobbies, their nights out.  

Just like Bourne, who finds his answers wanting and leaping off a building, it seems to me that people looking for their answers continue to move up the corporate ladder or salary bracket, dive head first into one thing after another, or go out to the same clubs and bars night after night after night.  Does it really help, or leave us at the edge of a building contemplating the drop?

CS Lewis once said, "If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world."  

Perhaps our fascination with Bourne ultimately points us to our deep need for something bigger than ourselves, bigger than our world.  Perhaps it points us to Jesus, who offers us love, a life of purpose, a life of adventure.  He probably won't give us a life like Bourne, but ultimately, He gives us something bigger, something far sweeter than kicking butt and outsmarting the ones in charge--a life that lasts forever with joy deeper and more pure than any pleasure the world can offer, more satisfying than the greatest act of vengeance, and more victorious than beating the world's most powerful government at their own game.

I'm going to bed

When Chris and I got married, we got a fairly nice set of mattresses (albeit used off craigslist), egg crates, new pillows, and gloriously soft sheets. As newly weds, we figured that our bed would be kind of important, and we were right. I never thought I'd like my bed so much. Then I started my new job at UNC Hospital.

After work 12 hours, day or night, I want to get into that bed more than I want food, water, coffee, or conversation. I long for it. I yearn to lay my head on my pillow and snuggle under our comforter next to my man. My drive home is consumed with thoughts of sleeping in the bed.

I've always been a stomach sleeper, save when I dislocated my shoulder, and then it was 8 weeks of back sleeping which was possibly worse than the actual shoulder injury. Who thought back sleeping was a good idea? Well apparently my chiropractor, who I visited a few weeks ago due to some nasty back pain. He was quick to denounce my stomach sleeping and "prescribed" back or slide sleeping from now on.

This became a matter of prayer...deep and earnest prayer. The bed I loved quickly became a battleground between my back and stomach, and the torture of temptation to turn over "just this once" made me sweat and splutter.

Then my cousin suggested the Boppy body pillow, found in the "mommy" section of Target that I've NEVER set foot in and hope to not return to any time soon. I've avoided that water like the plague. However, the call of the Boppy overwhelmed me, and I ventured into foreign "mommy" territory.

Now I have two companions that I love in my bed--my husband and my Boppy. There's just enough room for the three of us, and thankfully Chris isnt' the jealous type.

So our bed is almost perfect. We could stand to turn the mattress more often and make the darn thing everyday, but its comfortable and easy and functional despite the crowd. But I guess without the crowd, it wouldn't be so close to perfect.

revelation song

Alas for those that never sing,
But die with all their music in them!
~Oliver Wendell Holmes

Music is what feelings sound like.
~Author Unknown

While a number of songs and ditties stick in my head and randomly bubble up to my lips at the oddest times, only a handful of songs have truly captured what I feel. Certain lyrics and melodies perfectly embody my emotion, and these songs are like old friends.

This happened recently when my mother-in-law introduced me to Revelation Song. She knows what I like, I guess. It was just lovely, and I downloaded for a solo trip down to Georgia for a wedding. With seven hours in the care ahead of me, I wanted to make the most of my time, which meant singing and praying my way down I-95. This song struck me so deeply on the road that I continued to repeat it, crying each time it played. Driving became a little hazardous through the tears and rain, but I pressed on, singing away.

This song is an echo of the songs of heaven written in the book of Revelation. Its an echo of what believers will sing to their King. It was like hearing the future. It was like hearing heaven's worship and heaven's rest. For someone who is continually tired, hearing heaven's rest fed the hope I have in Christ. Because this song is so lovely and overflowing with meaning and emotion and appropriately responds to the greatness of God, I wanted to share it with you. The link below will take you to youtube.com and to a recording of the song.

I hope it moves you to worship as it did me.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FObjd5wrgZ8

The Story

Maya Angelou once said, "There is no agony like bearing an untold story inside of you." Having not written much for the past year, the pull of untold stories finally overwhelmed me. For over a year they have built up, and now the tension is beyond a nap or run or tasty meal. I long to share with you stories about marriage and nursing and life in the dirty D and world events and how I see it all fitting together.

I reckon that some of these stories will be as mundane as tea, and some will be as abstract and over-arching as time, but I hope that the mundane and the grand will leave us all in wonder of our Creator, else I have failed as a writer and story teller.

And so we begin...

Some friends of ours live in Central Asia, in a country that will remain unnamed for security purposes. They moved there because they love Jesus and want to make Him known among people that do not know Him, for they know the depth of love and peace He has to offer. Many in this country need such love and peace, yet they might even kill a person for mentioning the name of Jesus publicly.

For months they lived there, learning the language, studying the culture, befriending their neighbors, and praying they might share the story of Jesus quietly within their community. Hiring a housekeeper was a norm, and necessity, in their city, and soon after arriving they found a local lady looking for work. She worked day in and day out, and my friend continually tried to find ways of sharing Jesus with her despite the language barrier.

By Christmas, the language barrier was being broken down and my friend and her housekeeper were talking while putting up Christmas decorations. My friend began to tell her the story of Christmas, and her housekeeper said, "I know this story, and I believe it." My friend nearly fell out. She quickly recovered and said, "Come tell my husband what you just told me," fearing she had misunderstood the housekeeper. Her husband confirmed that she had indeed understood, and the housekeeper continued, "Yes, and my husband believes also." In a country that is over 99% Muslim, my friends had hired a woman who believed in Jesus--a woman who desperately wanted to know Him more.

Two years before, someone had shared the story of Jesus with this dear lady and her husband, and they secretly believed despite no other teaching or a Bible to read. They longed for someone to teach them, and then my friends arrived and brought them under their roof, then into their lives.

It seems that people from every tribe, tongue, people, and nation long to know more of Jesus, witnessed by those that go to tell of Him. Stories much like this one from all over the world trickle in. They involved unknown people in desolate and dangerous places--people who are not making a name for themselves but for Jesus. They will never grace the cover of books or headlines in the newspaper. Still, they quietly work to make Him known. Quietly and continually...to make Him known.