Psalm 23:4

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me.  Your rod and your staff, they comfort me.”  Psalm 23:4

            I grew up in faith, learning at an early age that I was a beloved daughter of God and believing that Christ was my Lord and Savior.  Yet, as a strong-willed, spiteful teen, I walked away from the church of my youth.  Though I never stopped believing in the existence of God the Father, Jesus the Son, and the Holy Spirit, what I believed about them became skewed.

            I left the church just before beginning my senior year of high school.  By graduation, I was pregnant ~ and devastated.  All of my hopes and dreams for the future had just been dahsed.  What had I done to deserve this?  How many of my friends were far more promiscuous than I was and not being punished this severely?  I truly believed that God was enjoying torturing me for some hideous sin that I was not aware of and therefore could not repent of.  I prayed that if he would just reveal to me what I had done I would repent so He could make this all go away.  These were the first few steps into “the valley”.

            It was also the beginning of my decent into the deep, dark abyss that is suicidal depression.  I would spend the next 3.5 years at the bottom of this abyss, during which time I almost killed my son twice and planned the ending of my own life while selfishly taking him with me.  It can only be attributed to the grace of God that either of us survived this very real “valley of the shadow of death”.

            But because I was not walking with the Lord at that time, I did fear.  I feared the evil inside myself, the horrible person I believed myself to be.  And though I did believe that I was being disciplined, there was no comfort, because I felt as if God was abusing me for His enjoyment.

            Though I was eventually treated for the depression, my twisted beliefs about God remained.

            Several years later, our family ended up again in a significant “valley”.  Amongst other trials and tribulations, we were being kicked out of the house in which we were living, my husband was diagnosed with anxiety disorder and panic attacks, and I had gotten into a physical altercation with my brother that left me with a cracked shin bone.  It felt as if our lives were caught in a wildly out of control downward spiral. 

As I lay with my broken leg propped on the couch in our new living room while in the throes of an insomniac attack, I had a sudden clarity of vision.  I had spent 9 years running from God, and all the while He had been chasing me.  He hadn’t been torturing me; He had been trying to get my attention.  Now, in the midst of this particular “valley”, He had it, and I did an about-face and sprinted into His loving arms.  God didn’t change my situation; He didn’t make it all go away.  But He held me tight and reassured me that He would guide me through this valley.

A few years later, I found life again to be overwhelming and was again treated for depression.  This time, however, I was walking with the Lord and believed that He would use this experience to grow me.  After a time, I felt inspired and well enough to end my treatment, though, admittedly, I did not go about it in the smartest way.  I stopped my medication cold-turkey.  I was woefully unprepared for the severity of mental, physical, and spiritual side effects of this incredibly irresponsible decision.  In my weakened physical and disconnected, loopy mental states I had opened myself up to intense spiritual attack, the likes of which I have never experienced before or since.  It was an onslaught of menacing faces and evil voices.  My mind had become a battlefield.  This was truly a “valley of the shadow of death”, the death of my soul.

Yet, I knew the Lord was with me, leading me through this valley.  By focusing on the Lord and His promises, I was able to regain my footing and push forward through the battle.  It was a very LONG valley, but I never feared, for He was with me every step of the way.  I was comforted knowing that when I became weary from the battle He would carry me.  And when He brought me to the other side, I gave Him all the glory.

I’d like for you to consider this quote from Perry Noble, Head Pastor of New Spring Church and author of Overwhelmed:  Winning the War Against Worry.  “Those times when we walk through the valley of the shadow of death can be precious, because they remind us that He is the author of life.”

Morning Run as Lesson In Humility ~ Take 2

If you read my last post, you are pretty much up to speed in my running world.  If you haven't, well, either go back a step, or continue on and try to keep up.

The Run Like a Girl event is just around the corner, and I am registered for the 1/2 marathon.  According to my self-designed-due-to-injury running schedule, I was due for a 10-miler.  Having just returned from a 4-day retreat where I spent the most of the time sitting, my foot was given a lengthy rest and was feeling pretty decent.  I wanted to attempt this last long run on pavement, since that is the terrain I will be traversing during the 1/2, and quite frankly, I am sick to death of my treadmill.  I planned my route as a 5-mile loop to run twice.  Strategic parking allowed for the passing of my car 3 times during those 2 loops, allowing for the possibility that I may need to cut the run short, and there are several other access points to the trail from neighborhoods it passes through, providing easy access to anyone who may need to come to my rescue.  I texted my husband as to my whereabouts, mostly to give him the heads-up in case I did need rescuing, and set off down the trail.

The first 1.5 miles went well.  The foot was holding up and my pace was promising.  I came to the first turnaround point and headed back.  Not long after that, I felt a stab in my knee.  Knee pain is nothing new to me, and sometimes if I slow the pace but keep moving whatever is going on in there will work itself out.  A few steps later I realized this is not familiar knee pain.  This felt like bone striking bone.  Still, I was hopeful that if I kept moving, it might work itself out.  On level ground, I felt nothing.  But the slightest incline or curve in the trail that caused a change in my heel-strike resulted in a stab that nearly buckled me.  By the 4 mile mark, I was just praying to make it back to the car.  At 4.5, I couldn't run another step.  Angrily, I resigned myself to walking the last half-mile to the car.

This, folks, was a "come to Jesus" experience.  And come to Him I did ~ with every once and iota of frustration, anger, and upset I'd harbored during the last year and some change.  I dare say this was one of my darker moments as I cursed God.  It is a cruel irony that He has given me a strong will trapped inside a fragile body.  And I promise I will bitch-slap the first person who refers to Matthew 26:41 or Mark 14:38.  I am well acquainted with these verses.  MY will is not HIS will.  Miraculously, my body seems to hold up just fine when it's regarding HIS will.  Only when it's regarding MY will does my body seem to fall apart.  Way to be fair, there, God.  I am strong enough to do what YOU want, but not what I want?  Thanks.  I must have looked like an utter loon walking down the trail crying ~ more from anger than pain ~ and talking to no one who was visible.

More than once over the last year, in conversation about the physical quirks I live with, it has been suggested that I may have a "non-specific" autoimmune disorder, or possibly EDS (Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome).  From what I have read, EDS results from a chromosomal mutation and can be inherited.  Since I have inquired of both sides about family members who may have dealt with hypermobility and come up with bupkis, if EDS is the culprit, I apparently have the dubious honor of beginning the lineage of damaged genes.  Go me.  And considering that both of my boys are hypermobile, it seems also that I have passed on my broken chromosome.  Sorry guys ~ truly.  The only severely tarnished silver lining to EDS is that I have found nothing to indicate that the syndrome is progressive ~ unlike an autoimmune disorder.  Generally, with an autoimmune disorder ~ for example, rheumatoid arthritis or HIV ~ one's own immune system continues to attack their own cells.  In other words, the damage that has already been done is only the tip of the iceberg.  If an autoimmune disorder is at fault, my connective tissue will continue to sustain damage, more than likely to result in increasingly lax joints and possible damage to vessels and valves of the cardiovascular system.  Oh, the possibilities!!

As I came to Jesus after that failed run, I also had to come to terms with the physical defects and limitations I have been denying for years.  As I have witnessed my own body deteriorate with increasingly numerous and frequent dislocations, sprains, strains, and circulatory hiccups, I have refused to believe that my body was weak in any way.  Since the mantra of my life seems to be "This, too, shall pass", I believed that I could overcome every new ache, pain, or injury by sheer determination and will.  That belief is beginning to waver.  But what is more is that I have lived the last few years in constant fear of injury.  Already there are so many things I want to do but do not for fear of re-injury, now I need to worry about injuring myself at all?!  Why bother getting out of bed in the morning?  Why give me the desire without a way to obtain the means?  Again we come back to the cruel irony.

Someone once accused me of having no tolerance for weakness.  The comment caused me a moment's pause to decide whether or not it was true, and what I determined was that I have no tolerance for weakness in myself.  And yet, here I am, trapped in what I perceive to be a weak body.  The ultimate humility.

Some might remind me that there are scores of folks in the world who have it far worse than I, and that I should leave the pity-party-of-one, put on my "big girl panties", and be grateful for what I do have.  True.  And I am grateful.  But please remember, that you do not live inside this body, fight these internal conflicts, or war with these demons.  Each are my own, and the battle tends to make one weary.  So as I wallow in the weakness of my body, please forgive me the momentary weakness of my spirit.  I promise I'll be back to my cast-iron bitch self soon enough.

A Day Without Pain

Strong-willed.  Bull-headed.  Stubborn.  Italian.  I prefer "determined".

Call me what you want (as long as it's not derogatory, if you actually expect me to answer), but the simple truth is that once I set my mind on something, few things short of an act of God will keep me from it.  For example, at age 16 I knew I wanted the man who is now my husband, and I spent a year chasing him.  Yes, I pursued him.  Were there others guys more easily accessible?  Probably.  But I didn't notice, nor did I care, because I knew who I wanted and set my mind to making him mine.  In my 20's, I ended up with a cracked shin bone and crushed cartilage in one knee.  When given the all clear from the orthopedist, I asked if I could go back to tae kwon do, kick boxing, and running.  I was advised that in order to stave off knee replacement for as long as possible, I may want to consider lesser-impact alternatives.  Though I was willing to give up tae kwon do and kick boxing, I was not willing to completely give up running.  It took several years, and enough setbacks to discourage a weaker spirit, but I ran my first half marathon last year.  Clearly, there are some instances when being persistent pays off.

In the spring of 2013, my sanity took a temporary leave of absence, which allowed me to register for a 10 mile running event.  In the process of training for this 10 mile event, my sanity went on another unauthorized vacation when I came across a promo for a women's only 1/2 marathon.  In my insane state, I thought, "If I can run 10 miles in September, surely I can run 13 in October," and I registered.

On August 28, 2013 ~ 11 days before the 10 miler and 5 weeks before the 1/2 ~ I took a tumble down my front steps and landed rather gracelessly on the asphalt driveway, resulting in a bruised tailbone, and then went backward against the steps, knocking both of my sacroiliac joints (where the spine and hip bones come together) and L2 vertebrae (mid-back-ish) out of place.  In non-anitomical terms, I thoroughly jacked up my hips and back.  Not exactly the most conducive condition for running.

Though hindsight is usually 20/20, I knew even as I was doing so that continuing to train was not going to speed my healing.  To be honest, I knew that continuing to train would be detrimental in most respects.  But, being "determined", I pushed through the pain and continued to train.  And it was only by the grace of God was I able to run and complete both events.  But not without ramifications.

The injuries sustained during that fall caused much grief for many reasons.  Pain aside ~ though, make no mistake, there were huge amounts of pain ~ living with a condition known as hyper-mobility makes recovery from dislocations (even partial dislocations, or subluxations) a very long, arduous, and frustrating process.  My hyper-mobility presents as abnormally loose ligaments (the bands that connect bones to bones within a joint) which, therefore, results in abnormally loose joints.  Not only do loose joints tend to dislocate much more easily, they do not hold very tightly or well when realigned.  When I dislocated a rib in 2008, it took 2 years to stabilize.  The wrist dislocation in 2010 took 18 months.  So the fact that my L2 is still not quite stable 12 months later is really not surprising ~ frustrating, to be sure, but not surprising.

But it was the SI joints that were the real pain.  I have battled hip and sciatic pain since I was a freshman in high school, so one would think I would be accustomed to having a permanent pain in my ass.  Yet, this was a new level of pain and aggravation.  It started in my low back, which makes sense since that's where the SI joints are located.  Then the pain moved to the groin area, which took me a while to figure out.  It eventually occurred to me that one of the muscles that crosses the SI joint attaches to the front of the thigh bone, and it was probably working overtime trying to keep the subluxed joint stable.  Yea.  Once that was under control, the pain moved square into the (very) fleshy part of my rear.  Lucky me.  It was the end of March 2014, 7 months after the fall, that the pain reached a tolerable level that no longer interfered with my daily life.

Then ~ wouldn't you know it? ~ in April, I injured my foot.  Are you kidding me??!!  Not sooner had I gotten the back and hip pain under some sort of control then the newest malady presented itself.  At first, I wondered if there was a connection between the foot pain and the uneven hips that resulted from the fall.  Maybe I was striking that heel harder when I ran.  Then it occurred to me that the foot pain began when I transitioned from running on a treadmill to running on the trails.  Could it have more to do with the uneven running surface? 

Being "determined", I pushed through the pain to continue to train for the 1/2 marathon I'd already committed to run.  Ice and ibuprofen became my best friends.  Then, on one of my trail runs, 4.25 miles in and less than a 1/4 mile from the parking lot, as it hit the ground, a searing hot, stabbing pain shot through the bottom of my foot.  "That's not a good sign," I thought.  I tried a few more steps and said, "Nope.  Ain't happenin'," and then I limped the rest of the way to the car.  The next morning, I limped into the office for an adjustment and was informed that I had a significant sublux between the heel bone and another that it works with, probably resulting in a sprain of the ligaments between the bones as well as the tendon of the muscle that connects there.  When I hurt myself, I go all out.

So here I am, just passing the one year anniversary of when it all began.  It dawned on me that I have not had a single day without pain for the last year.  Admittedly, a wounded healer is more effective and empathetic than one who has never experienced sickness or pain, and this experience has definitely given me new appreciation for people who live in far worse pain than mine.  But as my husband once observed, I don't like being restrained, and in that regard this pain has been a maddening and frustrating experience.  On the other hand, it has also been an incredibly humbling experience as it has required me to rely less on my own capabilities and more the the grace of God.  In spite of daily pain, I have still been able to accomplish a few rather significant fetes.  Sometimes we need to be broken down in order for God to build us up.  At least, that's the hope I'm holding onto through the rest of this healing process.

What To Pray For During a Kairos Prayer Vigil

People sometimes avoid committing to an hour of prayer because they don't know how to fill an entire hour of prayer for such a specific cause as a Kairos weekend.  So, here a some suggestions.  Remember that the participants and the team are counting on you.  More importantly, CHRIST is counting on you!

• For God to help each resident forget the outside world for the weekend
• That God will be with each resident who may be resisting the Spirit's call
• That each resident will enter into table discussion and freely give of herself when responding
• For peace of mind for each resident so that she will hear the messages shared by the speakers
• That each resident will faithfully put their burdens on the paper Saturday night during the Forgiveness service and trust that the Lord Jesus has accepted them in love
• That each resident who does not know the Lord as personal Savior will ask Him into her heart
• That each letter of agape will warm the heart of each resident
• That the letters of agape received from other communites will show them how far and wide God's love reaches
• That the Holy Spirit will work in each resident's life at the Closing servie and into their Fourth Days
• That when each resident re-enters the compound on Sunday evening she will be able to do so without difficulty
• The each resident will walk closely with the Lord and keep His name on their lips and His spirit in their hearts at all times
• That God will help the team members forget the outside world for the weekend and concentrate their total efforts on serving the Lord through their interactions with the residents
• That the families of the team members who were left at home will be protected from harm during the weekend
• That God will grant good health and restful sleep to each resident and team member throughout the weekend
• That each resident and team member will be able to "let go and let God" in all they think and do during the weekend
• For the Spiritual Leader of the weekend, that Christ will continue to bless them, and that through them His gospel will be clarified and His name glorified
• For the Lay Leader of the weekend, that Christ will continue to bless them, and that through them His gospel will be clarified and His name glorified
• For the Observing Leader, that Christ will continue to bless them, and that through them His gospel will be clarified and His name glorified during this Kairos weekend and the next
• For the Music Leaders, that Christ will continue to bless them, and that through them His gospel will be clarified and His name glorified
• For the Family Leaders, that Christ will continue to bless them, and that through them His gospel will be clarified and His name glorified
• For the Agape Team, that Christ will continue to bless them, and that through them His gospel will be clarified and His name glorified
• For the Cookie Team, that Christ will continue to bless them, and that through them His gospel will be clarified and His name glorified
• For the Food Team, that Christ will continue to bless them, and that through them His gospel will be clarified and His name glorified
• For the Kitchen Team, that Christ will continue to bless them, and that through them His gospel will be clarified and His name glorified
• For the Coordinator and Asst. Coordinator, that Christ will continue to bless them, and that through them His gospel will be clarified and His name glorified
• For the Angels, that Christ will continue to bless them, and that through them His gospel will be clarified and His name glorified
• For each speaker, that the Lord will speak to the residents through them and that each talk will be a blessing to all those who will hear it
• For the Warden, Correction Officers, and the Chaplain, as well as any other prison staff that help assure a successful weekend
• That there will be no problems encountered in matters that compromise safety
• that the Outside Community will arrive safely for the Closing ceremony
• That the Lord will reap a harvest of souls due to the efforts of these new residents as they establish their own ministries
• That the Lord will be blessed by all that is done in His name throughout the weekend
• That the Lord will remind e to continue praying faithfully throughout the weekend that His will shall be done

This is by no means a complete list, and so feel free to pray as the Spirit leads.  The Kairos community is forever grateful for your prayers!

Momma's Boy

Momma's boys and Daddy's girls.  At our house there's a Momma's boy and a Daddy's boy.  Please do not misunderstand that last statement to mean that we play favorites among our boys.  Despite having been accused over the years of "painfully apparent" favoritism, nothing could be further from the truth.  In fact, it is the boys who seem to have chosen the preferences.

Our younger son is Daddy's boy, through and through.  Way back in the day, when our son was quite young and my husband was taking evening classes, I would get home from work in just enough time for him to hand off the parental baton with a smooch and a "see ya later" as he rushed out the door to get to class.  As the door closed behind him, I was left holding a screaming, inconsolable child.  I would listen to him wail "Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaddyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy, DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAADDYYYYYYYYYYYY!!" between shaky gasps for air while fat tears of sheer rejection rolled down his red cheeks.  This would go on for hours, until he finally cried himself to sleep.  Never mind that Mommy was home.  Remember Mommy?  The woman who carried you for 9 months while you leached the potassium out of her to the point of debilitating leg cramps?  The woman who nearly split in half bringing you into this world?  The woman who nursed and cuddled you?  The woman who loves and dotes on you with all of her being?  Remember her?  Apparently not, because the banshee screech leaving this child's lungs indicated that his father had just left him with a complete stranger who was now sticking red hot needles under his finger nails.

Our son will turn 11 this week, and his preferences do not seem to have been the least bit affected by the passage of years.  For a while, if he came out of his room in the morning to find me at the table, the first words out of his mouth were, "Where's Daddy?"  I'd say, "Good morning, James."  To which he would respond, "Good morning.  Where's Daddy?"  To this day, given the choice to drive somewhere with Dad or with Mom, he will choose Dad every time.

Now to be fair, I do believe my son loves me, too ~ when Daddy's not available.

Our older son is Momma's boy to the core ~ which I will NEVER understand.  During his bonding years I was suicidally depressed and not a pleasant person.  How he attached himself to me is anyone's guess.  But somehow (by the grace of God, perhaps) he managed to bond to me much faster than I was able to bond to him.  Combine this distancing of myself during his early years with the fact that our relationship during his early childhood was heated and confrontational and we have got quite the conundrum happening here.  Yet, here we are, me and my boy.

As a young child, our oldest always needed to know where I was.  If he had not noticed when I walked out of a room, his immediate reaction to the realization was, "Where's Mom?"  Even now, as a teen, if he knows I am home but I am not immediately visible he asks, "Where's Mom?"  When I worked 2 jobs, he would ask almost every morning, "Mom, where are working today?"  My schedule had not changed in 2 years, I worked at the same location on a given day of the week with few exception, but he always needed to ask.

Now, as a teenager, our oldest continues to be concerned for me.  A few years ago, after having abdominal surgery, as I was shuffling down my hall, achy and still a little groggy from anesthesia, my oldest asked if there was anything he could do for me.  He was my work horse the summer I separated my shoulder, and even when I felt strong enough to grocery shop alone he wanted me to wait until he could come with me.  Even in the every day routine of life, he will express concern.  "Why are you limping, Mom?  Your foot still hurting?"  "You're rubbing you're head, Mom.  Headache?"

Considering that I am the mother of a teen-aged boy, I am often surprised by how willing he is to talk to me about the important stuff of life.  I will never forget the day he asked my flat-out about birth control.  Then there was the conversation about the pregnant girls in his middle-school (yikes!).  Admittedly, I had to question why I was the one to explain the differences in auto engine sizes and why putting a 4-cylinder engine in a Mustang should be illegal, but we had that conversation, too.  Now he comes to me with concerns about his girlfriend, the sisters of his heart (he's got a few of those), college, and the future.

Though it may seem that I favor one child over the other, I can honestly say that I try very hard not to do so.  I very much love and adore both of boyz.  Yet, I also understand that personality traits, interests, thought processes, and other factors play a large role in who gets along best with whom, and will continue to try to not take it personally if one prefers Daddy.

Spoiled Brat

Though I was unaware of it at the time, we grew up pretty poor.  I knew I had friends whose families had more than we did, but it is only with 20/20 hindsight that I understand just how little we really did have.  Yet, we always seemed to have enough ~ sometimes just barely, but always.  So when I see the "stuff" my kids have and all the things they get to do I think to myself, "These guys are so spoiled."  Then I look farther out to my sons' peer groups, and I see all that they have and get to do and get away with, and I think to myself, "Not nearly as spoiled as some."

As the resident disciplinarian (do not be misled, my husband does discipline, I just seem to do so far more) I make the calls my children don't always like, and never appreciate in the moment.  Among my sons' peer groups, I have been given the distinction of "The Evil Mom" because I make my children do chores *gasp!* and earn their allowances *gasp!* and receive due discipline for breaking the rules, and I wear this title with pride.  When my oldest son had a few friends over after school on the last day of 6th grade and one of those friends continually used disrespectful language despite repeated warnings, I kicked him out of the house telling him that he was welcome to come back when he learned to respect my rules.  It was 3 years before he came back inside, and he has been over many times since with no issue.  Chaperoning a field trip for my younger son's 3rd grade class I informed him on the walk back to the school that if he didn't mellow and behave for the rest of the trip I would ground him from Netflix.  (He was mimicking a character from a show he'd been watching.)  A classmate looked at me with horror in his eyes and said, "You are so mean!"  To which I replied, "Remember that if you ever come to our house."  Not one of my more glowing moments, but a perfect example of why I don't do well with other people's children.

Yes, I am the mom who makes my kids pick up after themselves.  Yes, I am the mom who expects my children to respect their elders (defined as "any person older than yourself").  Yes, I am the mom who lets my children fail and figure out how to climb out of the whole they have dug for themselves.  Yes, my 6'4", 290lb, 17-year-old son is still unwilling to be within arms reach of me during an argument because he knows he may very well get smacked.  No, my children do not rule my house, my life, or me ~ tho, I must admit that at times they do rule my schedule.

Long ago, I accepted the idea of God as Abba Father, daddy, the "ultimate parent".  Considering the parent that I am, I also accept the idea of His parental discipline in my own life ~ and much like my own kids, I don't always like it or appreciate it in the moment.  But, just like my children who are (hopefully) better for my discipline, I know I will be better for His.  And just like my children who sometimes need help in seeing their gifts for the blessings that they are, I often need help recognizing the many blessings Daddy has bestowed upon me.

For quite some time now, I have been praying for rest.  Not sleep, per se, not respite from the chaos of my life, but rest in the middle of it all.  Yet, it seems rest has continually eluded me.  By a twist of fate, I am not taking any classes this semester, so there is no studying to be done for the first time in 2 and a half years.  My children are at ages where I do not need to constantly entertain, care for, or pick up after them and are actually a huge help in the care of the house.  At the time of this writing, my husband is out of town for a while.  It seems that at long last, after a very long time of asking, pleading, begging for rest, God has seen it fit to grant it to me.

And I have no idea what to do with it.  I am actually bored.

Bored?!!  What is wrong with you?  You have finally been given exactly what you've asked for and you're BORED?!

Yep.  I have had no idea what to do with this new-found down time, and I have been bored. 

Now I am behaving like the spoiled brat.  Here I have been given the answer to a prayer and I have acted ungratefully about it.  I have failed to recognize this reprieve for the blessing that it is, and dismissed it as an unproductive waste of time.  Time to back-peddle.  Now I have to go to Dad and apologize for behaving like an entitled snot, beg for forgiveness, and thank Him for the gift He's given me ~ for the many gifts He's given me.

That's the problem right there.  Most parents want to give their children the things they ask for, and though God is not "most parents", He is the example by which we learn to want to give our children the things they ask for.  In fact, it is by His example that we often don't want to give our children exactly what they ask for, but want to give them so much more.  God has given me so very many blessings that I often overlook them.  I behave like an entitled, spoiled brat.

Today, I realized that I completely missed the gift Dad gave me.  Today, I thanked Him for the rest I have been praying for.  Today, my prayer has been that my eyes will be more open and attentive to recognize and appreciate the gifts He gives, and that He will forgive me for being a spoiled brat.

Come as You Are**

**As long as you are exactly like us.

This is can be a positive stance to take.  There are times in which like-minded people band together for legitimate purposes, like preservation of heritage or culture.  Or when training for a marathon and the encouragement of other runners who have been where you are is needed to push you through.  Or in a MOPS (Mothers of PreSchoolers) group. 

However, there are times when this philosophy is not the most productive.  For example, the Christian church.  Ironically, the one group on earth that should embrace those who do not think they do ~ in other words, believe that Christ is the Lord and Savior of their lives ~ is one of the most uncomfortable to truly "come as you are".  Much as the modern church tries to deny it, traditional ideas die hard, and there are some people groups that the church ~ not simply A church, but THE church as a singular body of Christ ~ has yet to fully accept as beloved brothers and sisters of Christ, even if those people groups believe that Christ is indeed their Lord and Savior.  Hard as we try, we as THE church have yet to shed entirely certain stereotypical ideas, and therefore have yet to fully embrace those who do "come as you are".  Is it any wonder that one of the biggest excuses for not coming to faith is something along the lines of, "I have to work on myself first.  I'm not good enough for church, yet."?

Now, before the stones start flying, I will say that there are always exceptions to the rule.  Our family has been very blessed to move within churches and ministries that have been much closer to this ultimate goal than others.  They take to heart the words of Christ that "it is not the healthy that need a doctor, but the sick", and allow the "sick" to come ~ in all of their disease and illness ~ to the Healer, so that they may be made well and whole through HIM.  They understand that it is exactly this kind of person who most needs to be embraced by the church and carried to the One who knows that, no matter their current condition, they are already "good enough".

Yet, by the same token, there are some churches and ministries that seem to operate a little farther from the mark.  True, they may encourage people to come as they are, but then they try to fit everyone into the same mold.  "Come as you are, leave exactly like one of us."  Allow me to give a few personal examples.

I am a silent prayer kind of person.  In fact, it is safe to say that I hate praying aloud and will pass that buck to anyone willing to take it.  If someone else prays aloud, I am all ears, but please do not ask me to do the same.  I will do it, albeit begrudgingly, and He will not be fooled to believe that I am being sincere, even if everyone else is.  I'll let you what, I'll let you pray your way if you let me pray my way, OK?  What I have to say is between me and God, so why does everyone in the room need to hear it?

My hands are my most valuable tools and touch my greatest gift.  To know that someone took a step toward becoming well and whole because I laid hands on them is an awesome blessing and privilege.  Yet sometimes contact is not required in order to "touch" someone.  I am able to gather so much information simply by scanning the body and allowing one's energy to interact with mine, to tell me what it needs.  I can feel dis-ease in temperature changes around the body, sense dysfunction in an agitated energy flow, and see pain in one's eyes. 

There were 3 of us praying for someone suffering from an awful headache.  Unsure of whether this person was even OK with me touching him, my hands hovered near the sides of his head as we prayed.  As we prayed, my hands were drawn closer, but never drawn to touch ~ until one of the other folks praying pushed my hands onto this person's head.  Well, thank you very much for interfering with my communication, not only with this poor headache sufferer, but also with God.  If Christ could heal the centurion's daughter from half-way across town, then surely God could have granted His healing grace through my hands less than inch away from this pounding head.  Though I am still accepting the idea that I may have the spiritual gift of healing, I do believe that God has healed people through me ~ whether my hands made contact or not.

While a group of us were praying over a speaker at a spiritual retreat, I had my hands on her shoulders and could sense dis-ease and agitation.  As sensations moved up my arms, I inhaled very deeply, as if I could pull the uneasiness from her, through my being, and exhale it away from both of us.  I took several very deep, sighing breaths while others were praying aloud.  When we had finished, and the speaker was on her way, one of the others in the prayer circle came to me and asked if I was OK.  Yeah, I'm fine.  I sigh while praying, you speak in tongues.  You speak Him out, I breath Him in.  Why does this make you question whether I am "OK"?

Of course, there are always going to be differences in ideas about how to DO church, but surely there should be some common consensus about how to BE the church.  God did not make each of us to look exactly alike, to think exactly alike, or to act exactly alike.  So, what leads one to believe that we must all worship exactly alike?  Clearly, He enjoys variety, and variety is the spice of life.  Why would we want to give Him bland, run-of-the-mill, nothing-exciting worship?

Rough Run

Since spring has finally decided to grace Ohio with its presence, I have gotten back outside for my runs and rides as much as is possible with the crazy schedule of my life.  Last week I ran my first hills circuit since I fell last summer (bruising my tailbone and jacking up my back) and peddled my longest trail ride so far ~ a whole whopping 18 miles.  I have LOVED every minute of being off the treadmill and the trainer, and very much look forward to more opportunities.

Despite snow 2 days ago, it was sunny and 65 today, and I was itching to get out on the trail after work.  Planning on hitting the hills trails, I decided to shake things up a bit and try a different combo of trails which added just over 1/2 mile to the distance I usually run for this circuit.

I should have known better.

The Coyote Run Pet Trail is described as "unimproved trail", which translates to gravel, hard-packed dirt, raised tree roots, and grassland.  After the most recent round of wet-death, today Coyote Run was more like a muddy agility course.  Thank God for trail shoes, right?  With their traction and extra-grippy soles?  Did you know that those extra-grippy soles HOLD the mud they grip?  Ever try to run with the extra weight of wet mud sucked into the traction of your shoes?  My socks were pink/yellow stripped when I started out on the trail.  I'm not entirely sure what color they are now, but I'm pretty sure it cannot be described as pink or yellow.  Taken from a different angle, you know it was a fun run when you have mud splashed up the back of you pants almost to your rear-end.

The next leg of my run was on one of the "improved" trails, which must mean it is more than just mowed and has better drainage and water run-off.  No mud on this trail ~ just a dyslexic Cub Scout pack that had no concept of "stay to the right."  In my customary circuit, I usually run this trail first.  This evening, I ran it last, as in after I had already run the muddy agility course.  So I was more fatigued than I usually am when hitting certain hills.  I did more than a little praying during this run as my quads felt like they might quit and my breathing hit a pattern that I don't like to fall into.  When the headache hit, it dawned on me that it had been a couple of hours since I'd eaten and my sugar and sodium levels were now tanking.  Awesome.  I knew the trail well enough to know how much farther I had to go, and I was pretty sure I would make it without passing out or throwing up, so I pushed on and emerged victorious!  I may have been sucking wind, but I was victorious, right?

In spite of all this, I think I like this combo.  At this park, there are 3 nature trails that can be run in a seamless circuit that totals somewhere around 8 miles, more than half of those miles with mild to moderate degrees of elevation change.  My goal is to run this 8ish mile loop before the 1/2 marathon in October.  I have an idea of how this plan will progress.  Now if Mother Nature would just decided what season she wants it to be...