I couldn't have had a worse week. Job felt like it was falling apart. My body felt like it was falling apart. Couldn't sleep, couldn't eat. I was beyond frustrated and in general outraged at the perceived injustices I was facing and the unfairness of everything that had been steadily contributing to my growing misery.
I picked up "Mere Christianity" again Friday night, after a really, really, really lame totally awful, depressing, exhausting, soul-crushing day. I opened it up to the first chapter, "The Law of Human Nature." "Everyone has heard people quarreling... [Man] is appealing to some kind of standard of behaviour which he expects the other man to know about." Lewis, the author, goes on to explain how we quarrel over 'unfairness' or 'injustice' - we "try to show that the other man is in the wrong." He ends the first chapter with this direct conclusion: one, that humans everywhere have a concept of how they should behave; and two, that they do not in fact behave the way they think they should. Lewis, in the succeeding chapters, goes on to postulate that this universal sense of Right and Wrong is evidence of God.
Amidst my constant internal litany this week of how unfair work and life were, this first chapter seemed to sum it up. But even inside this awful week, it was evidence of God. No matter how much I had been avoiding Him lately, or felt that He had been avoiding me - He was right here the whole time.
I calmed down over the weekend - which strangely should not have happened. After injuring my foot this week, I attempted an 18-mile long run on Saturday morning anyway. This turned out to be a terrible idea for several reasons. One, between my left foot incapable of completing a toe-off while just walking, and my right knee incapable of going down the stairs, I was a complete mess and should have known better. Two, it was raining, windy, and below 50ยบ out. Three, I was still really upset and stressed, and in no shape to make sound decisions - like turning around in the first half mile.
But this ended up being an opportunity to spend some quality time with my mom, which we both sorely miss. Albeit, this quality time was spent in the ER making sure I didn't have a stress fracture, but it was oddly comforting quality time nonetheless. We've spent so many days in emergency rooms or hospitals and it reminded both of us of how we've supported each other in these situations over the years. Saturday, my foot issue seemed almost pedestrian in comparison (hahahaha foot issue.. pedestrian! Come on, funny, am I right??)
Sunday morning I went with my aunt to her church for the first time - and was totally surprised that I really liked it. I found myself caught on a prayer leading into the worship. "God, thank you for your gifts this week." It reminded me of a clip of Pauley Perrette - and how when she didn't know what else to pray, she'd pray "Forgive me for everything. Thank you for everything." It hit me like a truck - I should be thanking God for my crappy, awful week! Yes, I realize this doesn't make much sense. But clearly He's provided me lessons and opportunities this week. And for sure they were difficult, but equally were they important. I'm not even sure what all the lessons from this past week were, although I'll be continuing to face their consequences for much longer. But I've got to believe the pain I'm suffering now is to spare me from worse in the future. That by putting me through trials, He strengthens and teaches me. I pray that I'll learn.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Rut
I recently re-found this draft from September and had to post:
As much as I've been trying to deny it, this summer has been a dry spell. It sounds funny talking about a dry spell in when my neighborhood is under a foot of water from 4 days of Tropical Storm Lee. But maybe there's something to that: a fish not breathing when he's in the middle of the water is pretty silly.
I was on the treadmill tonight listening to sermons. They were about a year apart, picked totally at random, and yet managed to overlap on theme and verses.
I am more than a person who had to have heart surgery because her disease ate her aorta. I am more than my disease. But I am only these with God. I am just my disease without Him.
As much as I've been trying to deny it, this summer has been a dry spell. It sounds funny talking about a dry spell in when my neighborhood is under a foot of water from 4 days of Tropical Storm Lee. But maybe there's something to that: a fish not breathing when he's in the middle of the water is pretty silly.
I was on the treadmill tonight listening to sermons. They were about a year apart, picked totally at random, and yet managed to overlap on theme and verses.
I am more than a person who had to have heart surgery because her disease ate her aorta. I am more than my disease. But I am only these with God. I am just my disease without Him.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Perspective
After almost a year, I'm returning to the Virginia Beach Rock n' Roll half marathon. You might recall, I ran last year's event the weekend before an appointment with my heart surgeon - the appointment he announced I'd have heart surgery.
I clearly remember the night before last year's event staying up until about midnight worrying if my heart would explode the next day. The next morning, I awoke, only nerves guiding me to my pre-race coffee, oatmeal, and banana. Over breakfast at about 5am, I couldn't tear myself away from my bible. I recall reading Hebrews 12:1-3 over and over again:
As Ali (my now-married former roommate, inspiring runner, and in general awesome person) were milling around the race start, I had this odd compulsion. People were going to know I had heart. We wandered around the volunteer desks, seeking a sharpie. I had Ali draw a giant sharpie-heart on my arm, with the word "surgery survivor" overtop the red heart. (At least I think..looking back on finish photos, even the sharpie couldn't withstand my sweat..ewww). It's funny how a badge of honor like that made me take on the race with renewed purpose. I prayed and thanked God the whole way, completely aware that each mile was a gift.
Comparing that experience with this year's couldn't be more different. I've had open-heart surgery, but rebounded and healed impossibly fast. The gift to run and race, when instead my heart should be exploding had now moved on to the gift to survive and thrive. I've fearlessly trained faster, longer, and harder for this year's race, with a longer goal of the Marine Corps Marathon in 8 more weeks. I've started to obsess over training plans, race paces, and race day nutrition when before I would have been happy to just toe the line and finish. I've got a lofty time goal (2:15 is lofty for me, anyways), and I'm endlessly staring at race pace bands.
It's been easy to get caught up in all of these goals and expectations I'm setting for myself. It's been entirely too easy to forget where I've come from in the past year, and how God has indescribably blessed me through this race, successful surgery and healing, and letting me get back on my feet again.
It's interesting to me that going into this race Venus Williams drops out of the US Open citing an auto-immune disease as the culprit. It's a poignant reminder of how fragile our health can be. I've still got my underlying autoimmune disease, and it can be a constant struggle to maintain my energy, stamina, and even optimism. The great days of health and fitness I have are little gifts in and of themselves - I can't bank even on having these.
And despite the heart surgery, despite the autoimmune disease, despite everything else that piles on and stresses me out in life... I run. "I can do all things through Him who gives me strength."
It's my prayer that I have more opportunities to share my testimony this weekend than I can imagine, and that God would use me to lift up and give hope to others.
I clearly remember the night before last year's event staying up until about midnight worrying if my heart would explode the next day. The next morning, I awoke, only nerves guiding me to my pre-race coffee, oatmeal, and banana. Over breakfast at about 5am, I couldn't tear myself away from my bible. I recall reading Hebrews 12:1-3 over and over again:
1 Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, 2 fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. 3 Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.Reading that took away my apprehension, reminded me that if my heart was going to explode, it was His will. If it wasn't going to explode, that would be His will too. If I was going to die (which I sort of thought I might, knowing how big my aortic aneurysm was at this point), at least I was going to die running a half-marathon, and glorifying God.
As Ali (my now-married former roommate, inspiring runner, and in general awesome person) were milling around the race start, I had this odd compulsion. People were going to know I had heart. We wandered around the volunteer desks, seeking a sharpie. I had Ali draw a giant sharpie-heart on my arm, with the word "surgery survivor" overtop the red heart. (At least I think..looking back on finish photos, even the sharpie couldn't withstand my sweat..ewww). It's funny how a badge of honor like that made me take on the race with renewed purpose. I prayed and thanked God the whole way, completely aware that each mile was a gift.
Comparing that experience with this year's couldn't be more different. I've had open-heart surgery, but rebounded and healed impossibly fast. The gift to run and race, when instead my heart should be exploding had now moved on to the gift to survive and thrive. I've fearlessly trained faster, longer, and harder for this year's race, with a longer goal of the Marine Corps Marathon in 8 more weeks. I've started to obsess over training plans, race paces, and race day nutrition when before I would have been happy to just toe the line and finish. I've got a lofty time goal (2:15 is lofty for me, anyways), and I'm endlessly staring at race pace bands.
It's been easy to get caught up in all of these goals and expectations I'm setting for myself. It's been entirely too easy to forget where I've come from in the past year, and how God has indescribably blessed me through this race, successful surgery and healing, and letting me get back on my feet again.
It's interesting to me that going into this race Venus Williams drops out of the US Open citing an auto-immune disease as the culprit. It's a poignant reminder of how fragile our health can be. I've still got my underlying autoimmune disease, and it can be a constant struggle to maintain my energy, stamina, and even optimism. The great days of health and fitness I have are little gifts in and of themselves - I can't bank even on having these.
And despite the heart surgery, despite the autoimmune disease, despite everything else that piles on and stresses me out in life... I run. "I can do all things through Him who gives me strength."
It's my prayer that I have more opportunities to share my testimony this weekend than I can imagine, and that God would use me to lift up and give hope to others.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
The little things
Sometimes its not the big things that get in our way or cause us to stumble. It's the little things, and especially the little things piled up that really humble us.
One of the hard lessons I've learned lately is that I'm not unstoppable or completely independent - much as I'd like to pretend that I can do anything by myself. To be reminded of this, it takes me being half-debilitated by a medicine change to admit my vulnerabilities.
Which leads me to my next lessons: 1) if it isn't broken don't fix it (at least when it comes to your health), and 2) you pay what you get for in medicine. Maybe these aren't universal truths. But when I approached my cardiologist two weeks ago asking to change my blood pressure medication, I should have known better. The medication (coreg CR) was working just fine. My only qualm with it was that it was $50 a month; so I asked for something cheaper, something available as a generic. This turned out to be a huge mistake that took away the precarious fine health I enjoyed.
I stopped the coreg on Friday (when I used my last of the old prescription), took nothing Saturday, got the new medication Sunday, then finally took it Monday evening when I came home. That night I didn't sleep - literally stayed awake the entire night - and then attempted to go to work the next day. I should probably add that I ran about 20 miles over the weekend. Tuesday at work I made it about an hour before my body started shutting down, and was a slug the rest of the day. Wednesday did not fare much better, and to worsen the problem, the AC at my rented room/house blew. All these blood pressure changes left me dizzy, nauseous, depressed, tired. Which also did not improve my issues with this rented room; I gave my 30 days notice and stayed at my aunt's house ever since.
There have been many discussions in the midst of all this. I called my cardiologist's office and she's out of town; another doctor approved my request to go back on the coreg. I've had a lot of difficult conversations with myself and others as I was on the forced slow-down. I hope and pray that I've learned something valuable from this and that God will give me my health and energy back. Mostly, that I'll really allow myself to be filled by Him and rely ONLY on Him.
One of the hard lessons I've learned lately is that I'm not unstoppable or completely independent - much as I'd like to pretend that I can do anything by myself. To be reminded of this, it takes me being half-debilitated by a medicine change to admit my vulnerabilities.
Which leads me to my next lessons: 1) if it isn't broken don't fix it (at least when it comes to your health), and 2) you pay what you get for in medicine. Maybe these aren't universal truths. But when I approached my cardiologist two weeks ago asking to change my blood pressure medication, I should have known better. The medication (coreg CR) was working just fine. My only qualm with it was that it was $50 a month; so I asked for something cheaper, something available as a generic. This turned out to be a huge mistake that took away the precarious fine health I enjoyed.
I stopped the coreg on Friday (when I used my last of the old prescription), took nothing Saturday, got the new medication Sunday, then finally took it Monday evening when I came home. That night I didn't sleep - literally stayed awake the entire night - and then attempted to go to work the next day. I should probably add that I ran about 20 miles over the weekend. Tuesday at work I made it about an hour before my body started shutting down, and was a slug the rest of the day. Wednesday did not fare much better, and to worsen the problem, the AC at my rented room/house blew. All these blood pressure changes left me dizzy, nauseous, depressed, tired. Which also did not improve my issues with this rented room; I gave my 30 days notice and stayed at my aunt's house ever since.
There have been many discussions in the midst of all this. I called my cardiologist's office and she's out of town; another doctor approved my request to go back on the coreg. I've had a lot of difficult conversations with myself and others as I was on the forced slow-down. I hope and pray that I've learned something valuable from this and that God will give me my health and energy back. Mostly, that I'll really allow myself to be filled by Him and rely ONLY on Him.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Humbled to Serve
Something that stuck in my head from my adventures over the weekend as I volunteered for the Marine Corps Historic Half Marathon..
I was at the Finish Line of the MCHH, stationed with Kimani and a stretcher ready to catch people as they drop across the finish line. Fortunately, there were very few people that required my assistance, but this left me in a perfect position to witness the faces of the half marathon finishers. We weren’t stationed at the finish until about 9:30 am, so we were watching the last half or third or so of people finish the race. These were obviously not as fast as others, but scope of achievement for them as they crossed that line was proudly apparent on their faces. Many were out of shape, or it was a first race, but for all, a huge accomplishment. One man came across the finish line shaking and crumbled as we placed him onto a stretcher. He was still sort of spazzing as he’s being tied into the stretcher, and we finally make out, “I finished, I finished!” Then there were the Marines, handing chilled bottles of water to finishers and saying, “Good job, sir,” or “Good job, ma’am”. As the finishers walked through the finish chute, there was literally a wall of Marines, armed with finisher medals. I was helping somebody walk off cramps as they progressed through the chute – at this point most finishers were coming across staggered, one at a time – we approach that wall of Marines, and one steps forward, ready to decorate my cramping finisher with his heavy medal. It was an odd reversal, the Marine decorating the civilian. But for many, this race seemed to reflect the general feeling of “I don’t know what I can do for you; but I can push myself through 13.1 miles to show you I appreciate what you do for me. And it won’t be near enough pain I’m going through to come close to showing how much I really want to thank you.”
It seemed as if the later the race progressed, the more solemn, and proud, and satisfying the finish was. The Marine next to me told me why of all the race duties he’s done before this was by far his favorite. “You see their faces before or during the race. But it’s so much more gratifying to see them cross the finish. The achievement is written all over their faces. I like being able to say ‘Good Job,’ right here.” (I’m paraphrasing from what I remember, and I wish I had gotten this guy’s name).
There’s nothing like a good-looking Marine handing you cold water at the finish. I can’t tell you how these Marines made the day for the finishers. From the daughter-mother-grandmother team I watched cross the finish hand-in-hand to the 80-year-olds proudly stride through, having these Marines here meant the world.
Besides being stationed at the finish line, served alongside current and retired Marines at Medical Operations and got to know them all a bit. Our OIC (officer-in-charge) at Aid Station 2 was a vet named Harold. What a character, definitely fun and enlightening spending the morning with him and Kimani, our former enlisted, currently working as civilian staff at Quantico. Hearing some of their stories and backgrounds - Harold has been on 7 tours of Iraq - and basically hanging out with Marines all day gave me a little flavor of the culture. I couldn't be prouder of them.
A race is a humbling experience. You push your body through what your brain tells you shouldn’t or couldn’t be done. At the end, you’re spent, physically, and sometimes emotionally. People race for different reasons. Some are trying to push themselves, see how far they can go past possibility or comfort. Some are competing, trying to outrace the man or woman ahead of them. Some are raising money or awareness for a worthy cause. Some are racing for all three. I can’t tell you how proud I am to be not only celebrating my heart surgery recovery with the Marine Corps Marathon, but to be fundraising for Semper Fi Fund at the same time. I am so proud of my Marines. Our Marines. They deserve a lot from us, and I can at least do this.
I was at the Finish Line of the MCHH, stationed with Kimani and a stretcher ready to catch people as they drop across the finish line. Fortunately, there were very few people that required my assistance, but this left me in a perfect position to witness the faces of the half marathon finishers. We weren’t stationed at the finish until about 9:30 am, so we were watching the last half or third or so of people finish the race. These were obviously not as fast as others, but scope of achievement for them as they crossed that line was proudly apparent on their faces. Many were out of shape, or it was a first race, but for all, a huge accomplishment. One man came across the finish line shaking and crumbled as we placed him onto a stretcher. He was still sort of spazzing as he’s being tied into the stretcher, and we finally make out, “I finished, I finished!” Then there were the Marines, handing chilled bottles of water to finishers and saying, “Good job, sir,” or “Good job, ma’am”. As the finishers walked through the finish chute, there was literally a wall of Marines, armed with finisher medals. I was helping somebody walk off cramps as they progressed through the chute – at this point most finishers were coming across staggered, one at a time – we approach that wall of Marines, and one steps forward, ready to decorate my cramping finisher with his heavy medal. It was an odd reversal, the Marine decorating the civilian. But for many, this race seemed to reflect the general feeling of “I don’t know what I can do for you; but I can push myself through 13.1 miles to show you I appreciate what you do for me. And it won’t be near enough pain I’m going through to come close to showing how much I really want to thank you.”
It seemed as if the later the race progressed, the more solemn, and proud, and satisfying the finish was. The Marine next to me told me why of all the race duties he’s done before this was by far his favorite. “You see their faces before or during the race. But it’s so much more gratifying to see them cross the finish. The achievement is written all over their faces. I like being able to say ‘Good Job,’ right here.” (I’m paraphrasing from what I remember, and I wish I had gotten this guy’s name).
There’s nothing like a good-looking Marine handing you cold water at the finish. I can’t tell you how these Marines made the day for the finishers. From the daughter-mother-grandmother team I watched cross the finish hand-in-hand to the 80-year-olds proudly stride through, having these Marines here meant the world.
Besides being stationed at the finish line, served alongside current and retired Marines at Medical Operations and got to know them all a bit. Our OIC (officer-in-charge) at Aid Station 2 was a vet named Harold. What a character, definitely fun and enlightening spending the morning with him and Kimani, our former enlisted, currently working as civilian staff at Quantico. Hearing some of their stories and backgrounds - Harold has been on 7 tours of Iraq - and basically hanging out with Marines all day gave me a little flavor of the culture. I couldn't be prouder of them.
A race is a humbling experience. You push your body through what your brain tells you shouldn’t or couldn’t be done. At the end, you’re spent, physically, and sometimes emotionally. People race for different reasons. Some are trying to push themselves, see how far they can go past possibility or comfort. Some are competing, trying to outrace the man or woman ahead of them. Some are raising money or awareness for a worthy cause. Some are racing for all three. I can’t tell you how proud I am to be not only celebrating my heart surgery recovery with the Marine Corps Marathon, but to be fundraising for Semper Fi Fund at the same time. I am so proud of my Marines. Our Marines. They deserve a lot from us, and I can at least do this.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Progress!!
Just a short update...
New PR!
ACLI Capital Challenge
3 miles
Official Time 29:02
(Unofficial Net Time 28:40)
Split 1: 9:23
Split 2: 9:50
Split 3: 9:17
UMMMM I've never done splits for a race under 10 minutes! Stinking proud of myself.
In other news:
I run in the path of your commandments, for you set my heart free. Psalm 119:32
New PR!
ACLI Capital Challenge
Official Time 29:02
(Unofficial Net Time 28:40)
Split 1: 9:23
Split 2: 9:50
Split 3: 9:17
UMMMM I've never done splits for a race under 10 minutes! Stinking proud of myself.
In other news:
- Played again at church this morning. Beautiful set. I could really get used to playing there, especially as I'm *mostly stopped freaking and stressing out about performing in front of others.
Ordered Mom flowers for Mother's Day and had them delivered to her while she was working a double shift at the hospital on Saturday/Sunday. To be followed by Wine Festival next weekend. BEST DAUGHTER EVER. :D
School is almost over!!!! I can be a human again!!! (Until Summer and FINAL semester for UVA starts in 2 weeks...)
Signed up for more races... posts will be forthcoming.
I've been able to run well again, and totally digging the trails. It's felt really good to get back to running-as-worship, and running unplugged. Hopefully more on this later too. Again, I've been a busy-running-working-schooling-zombie. But no excuses! :)
I run in the path of your commandments, for you set my heart free. Psalm 119:32
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Giant bucket of fail...
Many people know of Jeremiah 29:11. It's one of those 'cross-stitch' verses that make it on to encouraging hallmark cards.
"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."
And that is not to make light of this verse, because it is powerful and encouraging. But there is so much more to it:
Jeremiah 29:10-14
This is what the LORD says: “When seventy years are completed for Babylon, I will come to you and fulfill my good promise to bring you back to this place.
For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.
Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you.
You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.
I will be found by you,” declares the LORD, “and will bring you back from captivity.
I will gather you from all the nations and places where I have banished you,” declares the LORD, “and will bring you back to the place from which I carried you into exile.”
Immediately before the verse where God says I have plans for you, he tells the Jewish people "When seventy years are completed for Babylon" - in otherwords, when you have been through your trials, and struggles, and life - "I will come to you and fulfill my good promise to bring you back to this place." We often leave 29:10 out of our cross-stitch pillows, because somehow it makes 29:11 seem less encouraging. As if now we have to endure our trials, often the trials of our own making.
And I keep forgetting that. I neglect to make God the focus of my life, even more so when I feel overwhelmed with all the problems and responsibilities I've created for myself.
I came home at the end of the day yesterday. It had been a busy, long, tiring day, and I still felt like a giant bucket of fail for not getting everything done that I needed to. What I had gotten done was important and worthwhile - I was in jail that morning with our prison ministry team, I finished reading a textbook chapter, I spent time with my family, including some important and long-missed one-on-one time with my cousin. And I left my poor mother standing at the end of the driveway, saying goodbye to me, seeing me angry, tired, and frustrated. I still had not written a paper that was due for class on Wednesday (last week). I still had not read the remaining chapters, taken a quiz, or done the homework for my other class. So even at the end of what was a great day, I was angry and disappointed, and had no one to blame but myself.
Amidst this disappointment and self-loathing, I read the above verses from Jeremiah. "You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart." And I realize I haven't been seeking Him first. And that's why I feel so estranged from Him lately. I've been so wrapped up in seeking to take care of myself first. I haven't been whole-hearted in my pursuit. Instead I try to schedule him in my calendar between work, school, and running, and I do so poorly.
Ryan Hall tweeted these verses from Proverbs 1 this morning:
33 But all who listen to me will live in peace,
untroubled by fear of harm.” (NLT)
The rest of it in NIV is
Proverbs 1:32-33
32 For the waywardness of the simple will kill them,
and the complacency of fools will destroy them;
33 but whoever listens to me will live in safety
and be at ease, without fear of harm.”
I so desperately want that peace. I seek to be untroubled by fear of harm. But I am wayward, and I seek to please myself, to keep myself from harm, before I seek His face.
I run recklessly into adventure, without concern for anything else except that blinding joy of movement. I did this without concern for my heart blowing up, I still run recklessly without concern for my health, without concern for my schedule or other obligations. I put this blinding joy first. I pray that as recklessly as I do this, that I would be just as reckless with putting Him first, and I would do so without regard to my safety, health, schedule, but just be all-consumed by that blinding joy of running towards His face.
"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."
And that is not to make light of this verse, because it is powerful and encouraging. But there is so much more to it:
Jeremiah 29:10-14
This is what the LORD says: “When seventy years are completed for Babylon, I will come to you and fulfill my good promise to bring you back to this place.
For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.
Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you.
You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.
I will be found by you,” declares the LORD, “and will bring you back from captivity.
I will gather you from all the nations and places where I have banished you,” declares the LORD, “and will bring you back to the place from which I carried you into exile.”
Immediately before the verse where God says I have plans for you, he tells the Jewish people "When seventy years are completed for Babylon" - in otherwords, when you have been through your trials, and struggles, and life - "I will come to you and fulfill my good promise to bring you back to this place." We often leave 29:10 out of our cross-stitch pillows, because somehow it makes 29:11 seem less encouraging. As if now we have to endure our trials, often the trials of our own making.
And I keep forgetting that. I neglect to make God the focus of my life, even more so when I feel overwhelmed with all the problems and responsibilities I've created for myself.
I came home at the end of the day yesterday. It had been a busy, long, tiring day, and I still felt like a giant bucket of fail for not getting everything done that I needed to. What I had gotten done was important and worthwhile - I was in jail that morning with our prison ministry team, I finished reading a textbook chapter, I spent time with my family, including some important and long-missed one-on-one time with my cousin. And I left my poor mother standing at the end of the driveway, saying goodbye to me, seeing me angry, tired, and frustrated. I still had not written a paper that was due for class on Wednesday (last week). I still had not read the remaining chapters, taken a quiz, or done the homework for my other class. So even at the end of what was a great day, I was angry and disappointed, and had no one to blame but myself.
Amidst this disappointment and self-loathing, I read the above verses from Jeremiah. "You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart." And I realize I haven't been seeking Him first. And that's why I feel so estranged from Him lately. I've been so wrapped up in seeking to take care of myself first. I haven't been whole-hearted in my pursuit. Instead I try to schedule him in my calendar between work, school, and running, and I do so poorly.
Ryan Hall tweeted these verses from Proverbs 1 this morning:
33 But all who listen to me will live in peace,
untroubled by fear of harm.” (NLT)
The rest of it in NIV is
Proverbs 1:32-33
32 For the waywardness of the simple will kill them,
and the complacency of fools will destroy them;
33 but whoever listens to me will live in safety
and be at ease, without fear of harm.”
I so desperately want that peace. I seek to be untroubled by fear of harm. But I am wayward, and I seek to please myself, to keep myself from harm, before I seek His face.
I run recklessly into adventure, without concern for anything else except that blinding joy of movement. I did this without concern for my heart blowing up, I still run recklessly without concern for my health, without concern for my schedule or other obligations. I put this blinding joy first. I pray that as recklessly as I do this, that I would be just as reckless with putting Him first, and I would do so without regard to my safety, health, schedule, but just be all-consumed by that blinding joy of running towards His face.
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