A Thousand Blended Notes

Black and White

2012-01-28T20:15:00.000-08:00

When I left the house, there was just enough light to see the contrasts of the gray road and the black trees. Color was missing from the predawn world. The landscape reminded me of the black and white photos that I had seen on display at the library the day before. Slowly, as we ran up the hill, color returned to the houses, the sky, the land. I thought of all the times that I have failed to see that there is more than one way to see. I often forget that the world looks different to a four-year-old than it does to one who is 37. It often looks different to my husband than to me. Because of my failure to understand the differences in perspective, I often miss opportunities to learn from others. I fail to give grace where it is needed. I fail to love with a love that sees in more than black and white.

When I first came up out of the basin, the sky was filled with billowing, gray storm clouds to the east, but the sky to the west was still a pale, winter's blue with just a smudge of cloud above the Peak. By the time that I turned for home, the gray clouds had almost completely taken over the sky. Only a bit of blue still showed above the horizon. How quickly the view can change! I often forget that the struggles and joys of today will soon be lost to the advance of time. Soon, I will wish for the days of diapers and division with decimals. But these days will be replaced with other equally demanding and precious. Today, I must love with passion and grace the people that God has given to me to love so that when the view changes, they remember a mother's love that pointed them to a God of even greater love.

The trick is to not let the lessons that the Spirit whispers to the sound of footfalls on gravel be drowned out by the daily din.

On the road again. . .

2012-01-12T14:29:00.000-08:00

So, the diagnosis of the first doctor was overruled by the second. Thanks to the second opinion, I am up and running again, at least in theory. Now, the challenge seems to be finding the time to fit in the exercises from the physical therapist and also the miles needed to build up to a 50K in just fifteen weeks. Yikes! This all comes at a time, when progress in homeschooling is attempting to grind to a halt despite my most valiant efforts, the spring cleaning/decorating bug is biting hard, and life just seems to be spinning faster than my head. Is that even possible?

And so, I just have to step back and ask that God will guide my days and my thoughts. One of those thoughts that has been brought to my mind over and over again is that in the midst of my days, I desire to make my God beautiful in the sight of my children and husband. How? I think that for me, that is a matter of joy. Joy that isn't limited by my control of the details of the days, but that is rooted in my relationship with the One who has written my days and knows their number. So, perhaps the most important road that I walk today will be the one that is walked in the quiet of my closet. That road takes courage and discipline as great as any other.

Road Block

2011-11-10T15:34:00.000-08:00

Running. I love the sore, sweating feeling after a long hard run. I love feeling like I can do somethings that other mortals see as impossible. I love feeling the cold on my face on an early morning run and watching the sun wake up the land. I love using my feet to explore. It is my quiet, my rest, my place of escape. Running is my passion, but I often allow myself to be side tracked by the warmth of my bed or the excuse that, "I am too busy." That is until, the pain in my foot says that I can not make that early morning pilgrimage or that afternoon date with the treadmill. Now that I can't run, I lament that my plan to try to run an ultra with my husband might not happen this year. Before, I made excuses not to run, now I wish that the doctor's diagnosis could be wrong. Well, at least he didn't tell me that I can't run ever again. The recovery from the surgery should only take a few months. It is shorter than it could be. I will take it and enjoy the time to focus on other things that I often overlook because I can do them. Today, I will read with my daughter, play games with and listen to my sons, smile at my husband, and cuddle my baby. There will come a day when they won't ask me to listen, to play, to read, to cuddle. I don't want to regret not taking each opportunity to love them right now. I will also take a moment to worship and praise the mighty King of Kings and Lord of Lords who will one day command all the worship and praise of all peoples. What a joy to praise out of a full heart and not one of fear!

I forgot. . .

2011-10-12T12:49:00.000-07:00

I must add one other important first of last weekend. I forgot it because it didn't happen until Sunday. Our oldest boy took his first Lord's Supper. He had been baptized last week. In writing about his experience, he said that it made him, "feel a part." What a blessing to see a child appropriate his faith and begin to act on the things that he claims to believe. A challenge to me to live my life so that my belief is evident in my actions and not just lip service. Well, I'm off to "act" out my faith that I am a runner and put the souls of the shoes on the rubber of the mill. :)

First

2011-10-08T13:34:00.000-07:00

Today, was the first snowfall of this winter. I love snow! I got to run my first trail run. It also happened to be my first half marathon. I've wanted to go that distance for quite some time, but this was my first opportunity. It was my first time running in Cheyenne Mountain State Park. Beautiful! Especially with the snow! Today was also, my baby boy's first birthday. Thank you, God, for the blessings that you have generously heaped on me. Thank you for the life of Luke, and all that he means to our family. Thank you for your undeserved goodness in our lives. Thank you for firsts that we can celebrate and rejoice in. Thank you for legs to run, for the beauty of your creation; thank you for your majesty, your control of all, for your perfect plan, for the ways that you care for the world that you made and the people that you put into it. Thank you for caring for me. I am humbled at your consideration of me and the things that concern me.

"I Don't Like the Sauce."

2011-09-30T14:28:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, my children complain. Last night at dinner, my daughter expressed her opinion about the spaghetti sauce on her plate. I leaned in and taking her face in my hands, I gently reminded her of our conversation earlier in the day about how we need to be thankful for food to fill our tummies. We talked about how even food that we don't enjoy eating is better than none at all. Thinking back to her struggle with the sauce I thought about all the other food items on her plate that she really enjoyed. It was convicting to me that I can look at a "plate" full of "food" and yet complain. There are days that I wish that my plate were not as full. But when I take a step back and think of all that would have to happen for the plate to empty, I reconsider. I am humbled that My Father thinks that I can handle all that He has dished up for me. I am thankful for each hug, each "Mommy, I need. . . ," and each opportunity to create relationship with my husband and children. I am again thankful that God is willing to keep teaching me. I am thankful that He uses the little tools in His tool box. Today, I will be thankful for the things that fill my plate and consider that without them, my life would be very empty indeed.

Walls

2011-09-17T20:28:00.000-07:00

I struggle with getting angry at my children. I think that the real root, is my own selfishness and impatience. Last year at the end of the school year, we worked on memorizing several verses about controlling our spirits. One verse talked about how an angry man is like a city without walls. We talked, of course, about how in ancient times walls were a means of protection. That Proverb then says that an angry man who isn't showing self control leaves himself open to attack. Meditating on this verse, I also remembered the Proverb that says that a wise woman builds her house, but the foolish woman tears hers down with her hands. It was like I was seeing my family as a ruined city without walls. It seems as if my anger has the ability to leave my family open to the attacks of the enemy, but I can partner with God in protecting them if I submit to the Holy Spirit so that He can control my spirit and help me to be a wise woman who build up the walls of my house. I desire to be like Nehemiah and be a wall builder who is busy protecting the hearts and faiths of my precious children and husband. Lord, Please keep my tongue from evil. Help me to speak grace and kindness into the lives of my children and husband. Help me to smile at and delight in them. Please replace my sinful anger with Your joy.

Keeping them safe

2011-06-21T20:16:00.000-07:00

So, I confess, I am obsessive compulsive. Last night, I sat down to read for twenty minutes and two and a half hours later, I finished the book and went to bed. The book was a children's historical fiction work that wasn't exceptionally well written, but it added some interesting detail to the time of the Judges in the Old Testament. Since I have just finished reading that portion of the Bible with my children, the stories are fresh in my mind. Really thought it was the repeated warnings issued in Scripture that echoed in my mind as I thought about the story this afternoon. God told Israel over and over again that they would be safe and prosper in the land if they obeyed and served only Him. Over and over again they forgot God and their promises to obey Him. The cycle of Israel's disobedience, punishment, repentance, and deliverance repeats all through the Old Testament. God warned and proved repeatedly that He would protect His people if they obeyed. In the story, the Israelite women were often captured and sold as slaves during a period of Israel's disobedience. The fathers were unable to protect their families because of their disobedience to God. It struck me that when I disobey, I am leaving my family open to the attacks of Satan. It is not just myself that is in peril. I am sacrificing my children when I seek my own way. I am putting myself in a position that makes it impossible to protect them. Is anything that I desire worth the souls of my children? Is there any sin that I wouldn't rather confess than see my children pay the price? I might say that there isn't, but do my actions line up with my words? Am I living an obedient life? One that will bring blessing to my family? Or am I living for self? Galatians 6: 7-9 were the verses that we read in family devotions tonight. Am I sowing to the flesh or to the Spirit? My reward is sure. I need to work for a harvest of righteousness.

Mercy

2011-04-24T20:05:00.000-07:00

As a kid growing up, I learned that Christ sacrificed His life on the cross for my sins because He loves me. While it is true that Christ was motivated by love and even love for me, I have grown to understand that His primary motivation was something even more amazing. He was motivated by His love for and therefore obedience to the Father. Jesus Christ chose to lay down His life because He loves the Father and true love necessitates obedience. Christ "became obedient unto death, even death on a cross." (Philippians 3) Christ was willing to endure that pain of the cross because He was an obedient Son. His obedience wasn't grudging or angry; it was willing. A submission to the will of the Father that wasn't unaware of the cost, but was willing to obey for the "joy that was set before Him." (Hebrews 12:2) I am thankful for His willing obedience as it is the source of my life, my salvation from the power and penalty for my own sin. But His obedience is more, it is the example that I must follow if I am to be a "friend of God." (John 14-15) I am so far from that place of willing, happy obedience. I want my way. I want what pleases my flesh. I desire my comfort, my happiness at the expense of those that I love and even at the expense of obeying my Father. So, I come again and remember His happy obedience, His quiet answers to Pilate, and I am encouraged to let go, to say, "Mercy" and submit to the will of the Father, and to give up my hold on my desires and let Him be God.

Thank you, LORD, for Your example and Your mercy that keeps teaching the lessons that I struggle to learn. Thank you for a day set aside to remember Your victory won through submission.

I ran!

2011-04-10T14:19:00.000-07:00

So, my husband thinks that because he is training for several races, that I must want to keep up. Yesterday, he essentially sent me to run a 5K. Because I am so obedient, he didn't have to throw me out of the house and lock the door, but he threatened to.

On the drive over, I had that short-of-breath, I-think-that-I-could-throw-up feeling that I always get when I think about racing and as I type race reports (right now!) Just like at the last two races that I went to, I met a woman who was running her first race. I am a new runner magnet! The format of this run was different in that runners were given a handicap. I was supposed to start running when the clock had counted down to 7.04, but I missed it and started at 6.32. The nerves then pushed me to run to catch up the missed 30 seconds in the first half mile of the course. Since I always run the first part of a run too fast, this didn't bode well for a negative split and a well-run race. I had fun for the first half. I'm not sure where the pain won, but when I made the last turn and looked along the trail to the finish nearly half a mile away, I thought that I would rather walk than run right then. I knew that it was time to pick up the pace, but my mind refused to cooperate. I finally did kick it in, when a female runner tried to pass me near the finish. I guess, I finally decided to stop being lazy. Miracle of miracles, my split time was only six seconds slower for the second half. Amazing for me for a normal race, but even more so since I was in panic mode for the first mile or so. I was rather pleased with the time. Not my fastest 5K, but respectable only six months after baby number four and especially considering that I was up nursing at 3:15 a.m. the night before. I'll take it. I'm not sure that I want to run another for awhile, but I did run at least one!

Victory!

2011-04-06T10:24:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, something happened that made me "jump up and shout" happy. I know it is a trivial thing, but it made me smile; I am still smiling! My three-year old daughter said, "This banana is healthful." In an earlier conversation with her, I had mentioned the distinction between the use of the words "healthy" and "healthful." She not only listened, but also applied what we talked about! Any time a child learns a lesson, it is cause to rejoice for a homeschooling parent, but this was especially sweet because my young child is exhibiting a better use of the English language than many people. Dr. Chapman (my teacher for Advance Grammar and Composition) would be very proud; I am very proud!

Broken

2011-03-28T19:57:00.000-07:00

Last week, while the kids had swimming lessons, I talked with the mother of another child. The mother asked if we home schooled. Her question led to a discussion of home schooling. I admit that I was feeling a bit defensive, so I fired off several comments designed to wow her socks off. It almost seemed that as I talked, her eyes widened visibly. At one point in the conversation, she said, "Do you have more hours in the day than I have?"

Later, as I thought about our exchange, I thought how I would answer that mother or anyone who asked me why I choose to take the responsibility of teaching my children at home, when it would be far simpler to send them to school for free for eight hours each day. I think that the correct answer to that question should be that I have been redeemed by Christ to serve Christ. The areas of service that I have been called to and equipped in are those of being a wife and a mother. Home schooling happens to be one way that God has given me to spend my life for others. But just like most people, I am tempted to hold on to my life, my desires, my needs; I am tempted by the lies spoken around me that I have to protect my time, my interests, myself, or no one will. I must actively reject the lies and remember that the One who poured out His life for me asks the same in return. I am the friend of Christ in so much that I am willing to pour my life out for Him in service to my family. He will provide for me and someday, if I faithfully complete my task, my children and husband may have reason to rejoice in my service to them. Then, my reward will be greater than the enjoyment promised by seeking my own way and interest now. In a way, isn't that what Moses did when he rejected the opportunity to stay in the palace of Pharaoh, and instead went into the wilderness. He later reaped the rewards of following God when following God didn't make sense. I am thankful for the reminder.

And so, I am thankful that I had the opportunity to discuss home schooling with that mother; not for her sake, but for mine.

Ripples

2011-03-12T13:17:00.000-08:00

"Broken, hun?" My three-year-old asks about her apple slices at the lunch table. Having cut the apples myself, I know that they are indeed "broken," but I go along and answer, "No." She is thrilled that she is able to trick Mom, and I think back to the silly trick that inadvertently started our now-popular dinner game. I'm sure that our friend doesn't remember holding up a cut apple and saying those words, but my children haven't forgotten the thrill of tricking their table mates about the wholeness of their fruits and vegetables.

As my daughter relished tricking me, I thought about how often the things that we do without thinking have lasting effects. Then I thought about the letter that I received this week informing me of the death of a friend and former professor. I can't hang a picture without remembering her beautiful apartment. I owe the title of this blog and my love of English Romantic poetry, well any poetry really, to her unique and passionate teaching. I keep attempting to enjoy the works of Joseph Conrad, because he was her favorite. Needless to say, her personality contributed to the tone of my own teaching and therefore to the lives of my children and students. The way that she lived and the person that she was changed me.

As a child, we had a huge mud puddle that we played in at Grandma and Grandpa's house. I remember throwing rocks in and watching the ripples spread out across the surface of the water. Just as my teacher influenced me and that friend influenced my children, my life is creating ripples that affect the lives of those I spend time with. Lord, I pray that my life will draw my children and others into a deeper understanding of and relationship with You. Please make me a woman of grace, who speaks joy and love into the hearts of those around me.

Time to try Conrad. . . Again!

To run or not to run?

2011-02-22T20:17:00.000-08:00

I read a book review and on a whim put the book on hold at the library and forgot about it. When the kids and I picked up our twenty-five books the other day, the novel was mixed in with books about Turkey and sign language videos. Last night, I managed to finish the novel about a distance runner. It was not my usual fare, and I could have done without several parts of the book, but it got me to thinking. That and part of an article in Runner's World.

Distance running is all about pain and learning to enjoy and manage the pain. I would even go so far as to say that distance runners relish and delight in a certain amount of pain. Maybe you could say that they don't enjoy the pain for its own sake, but they love the outcomes achieved when they push through pain that their minds say that they can't survive.

I used to enjoy the pain and also the power that came from disciplining my body to do things that others thought were crazy; I remember running just for the joy of running and winning. Now running is my escape, the place I go to be myself. It is a guilty pleasure. My mind argues both for and against the merits of investing the time, the sweat equity, that are necessary to run races to win. So I continue to run and to wrestle with the place that running should have in my life. I want to be a runner once again, but fear the investment that I already know it will ask.

Reading that book made me sad. It reminded me that I was once a runner too.

The Praise of Men

2011-02-18T05:34:00.000-08:00

My kiddos are taking swimming lessons. The lessons are proving to be a source of learning beyond how to be comfortable in the water, and the children are not the only ones learning. Getting into the car after lessons the other day, my son told me that he had asked his teacher if she was a Christian. "What did she say?" I asked. "She said that she was, and asked me if I was a Christian." My heart's response condemns me. I was afraid. I like flying under the radar, not drawing attention to myself. Now the spotlight has been focused, the microscope brought to bear. Then this morning, I read John 12:42-43 which says, "Among the chief rulers also many believed on him; but because of the Pharisees they did not confess him, lest thy should be put out of the synagogue: For they loved the praise of men more than the praise of God." Lord, thank you once again for using the courage of a child and the Sword of Your Spirit to get to the heart of the matter in my life. Please forgive my fear and my concern with the opinions of those who will not judge my days.

Sorrows come. . .

2011-01-18T06:09:00.000-08:00

"Sorrows come To stretch out spaces in the heart for joy."

It has always been a fascination of mine to think of how Joy and Sorrow are two sides of the same coin. The idea that we cannot appreciate true joy without having sorrow to contrast with it has been a theme I've found in much literature and also explored in my own writing. I'm sure that there have been past experiences that have borne this out in my own life, but most recently, I've seen this in my feelings toward our newborn son. I have loved all of our children and delighted in their development, but there is a deep joy and delight in holding Luke. I find myself stealing moments to hold him, watch him, and just take pleasure in being his mother. There is a rightness in my soul when I am taking care of him. Perhaps, God has allowed this journey to soften and deepen my mother's soul. God's word is true when it declares that God has "turned my mourning into dancing;" and has, "loosed my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness. . . O LORD my God, I will give thanks to you forever!" Psalm 30:11-12

A Good Morning!

2011-01-15T05:43:00.000-08:00

While most runners are easing into their winter maintenance after a holiday break, I am just getting started. I am one week into my reentry plan. Last year at this time, I was training for the Winter Series Races and actually ran one of them, when I got a telltale sickness in my gut. I'd had that same feeling a couple of times before. I ran a handful more runs after that eight mile race then decided to take it easy. When we found out that I was indeed pregnant, the doctor suggested limiting my runs to one mile just because of my history and the lack of a diagnosis. Then, my husband who loves me and is over protective (in my book,) told me that he preferred that I not run at all. At first, that was really difficult, but it got easier. Too easy in fact, and I didn't want to run or even move for that matter. Now that our Luke is three months old, I don't have an excuse. Therefore, I am back in the saddle again. The most I have gone is 2.7 miles. Not a long way, but something. I have been somewhat consistent this week even juggling running with all my mommy jobs and the hubby's running. Yesterday, I made it a whopping 2.3 miles, but I did it outside and managed to run the entire way up the hill even without the dog towing me. When the hubby got up to run this morning, I wasn't sleeping due to a stiff back, so I decided to join him for the first mile up the hill.

The cold brightness of the stars greeted us. There were so many visible that I could barely discern Orion's belt. The stars quickly faded and were replaced with the soft gray of the dawn. I especially enjoyed seeing the shadows of the trees against the lightening skyline. What a beautiful way to begin a day and a special reminder of why I love running. It is good to be back.

A Grateful Heart

2010-10-26T09:32:00.000-07:00

Sunday, we asked our pastor to pray a prayer of dedication for Luke. He asked for words of testimony. While I didn't share then, I thought about it after. This is my heart on the matter.

I thank God that we stand here today. Not just because we are holding Luke, but because of all the steps that have brought us to this place. I thank Him for the miscarriage and the sound Biblical teaching that He used to bring us to the place of desiring to have and submitting to having more children. Then He gave us another child, and we had to say goodbye after holding his pre-term body for a few short hours. After those lessons, I thought that we had finished the course and that joy would follow closely, yet the lessons were not over. I came to think that we would never hold our brand new baby again. I struggled with finding peace with that outcome and trusting that God had put the desire for another child in my heart for a reason, but that that reason might not have been to grant it. I thank Him that He allowed us to get pregnant before we had decided if we were willing to go through that pain again and then took that child before we were able to hold him. I look at the patient and loving ways that God kept showing us that He is God and that His ways are not ours, and I say, "Thank you for Your wisdom, patience, and love." Now, I thank Him that He has filled our arms and hearts with the joy of holding Luke's precious, warm body. I would not change the journey. Each step has taught needful lessons.

Thank You, God, for Luke. He is the answer to many prayers. He is light, and life, and joy to my heart. He is precious and dear to us. Thank you for the chance to hold him today.

LOST!

2010-09-29T14:12:00.000-07:00

Today, was my last baby appointment for this pregnancy. It took forever: from the ultrasound starting 25 minutes late to the doctor having to be out for emergency surgery. We had to be shifted to another doctor who was just fitting us in. Of course, we all went so that we could pick up our van that has been in the shop for the last week. We were supposed to be saving gas and time on an extra trip to town, but we got more than we bargained for in the LONG waits at the doctor. The kids did great, but I could see the tension was building for my husband who was trying to keep them happy and quiet for the three hours that we were there. Finally, he took them out to the car. It was just easier than keeping everyone quiet and happy in a ten by ten room with two chairs and lots of things that shouldn't be handled by a three-year-old. While they were watching videos of themselves on Dadda's phone, I was reading a very inspiring book about pregnancy. Funny how I ended up reading the part about labor. Yikes! The thing that struck me though was this thought. The author, a woman, had the courage to say that women who are in the last few weeks near delivery are not really functioning in their right minds. I would argue with her and say that that idea is crazy, but I have a strange feeling that my husband and children would agree with her analysis. That means that I am not in my right mind right now. . . . Oh, the other interesting thought that she put forth was that during that same time frame, women start to stop really caring about the normal everyday things around them that are usually so important. I will agree with this idea. Frankly, I don't really care if I eat for the next week or not, and who has the energy or interest to think about laundry, clean toilets, or even teaching my children. Maybe, I'm not really in my right mind after all.

Thirty-four weeks

2010-08-31T18:08:00.000-07:00

I went to the hospital today to do the paperwork for our expected delivery in a few weeks. The last time I entered those doors was for a memorial service for our son that I delivered at 16 weeks. Just walking up to the front of the building was difficult. When I got back to the other building, I went into the bathroom and sobbed. I could have controlled my tears, but didn't. I was crying for the children that I haven't held and for the friend who lost her husband this week. In our finite minds, we often try to figure out how we could have caused a result other than the tragic one that we are facing. Yet, "His ways are not our ways, nor His thoughts our thoughts," and His ways are good. Even when they involve suffering. Especially when they involve suffering because then we are driven to the ends of ourselves and to the Lover of our souls. My fear is that I haven't allowed these fiery times to purify my soul as He desired. That somehow, I have wasted the dark night and missed out on the brightness that the day could have held. Again, I come and wait; wait for the Spirit's whispers that reassure me that He is working and that His way is best. That though imperfect, I am still His blood-bought child.

Thank you for today

2010-05-12T19:24:00.000-07:00

This morning, we had our first of what promise to be many ultra sounds. Our baby is 18 weeks old, and the doctor wanted to see how he is growing. Unlike my pregnancies with our other children, I find myself waiting for the bad news at each appointment. It is always a relief to hear the nurse or technician say, "There it is," about the heart beat. Today was no exception. When we finally saw the little heart beating on the screen, the tears of thanks ran down my face. So now, I say, "Thank you," to the Giver and Preserver of Life. I also want to learn to give the lives of each of my living children to God in the same way each day. I want to consciously acknowledge that He alone has the right and power to give and take life. "Lord, thank You for giving our littlest one more days on this earth. Help me to love him and all those that You have put into my life to love, in ways that please You and show my understanding of Your power and control."

Are you telling the truth?

2010-05-08T13:32:00.000-07:00

Nap time can be one of the most difficult parts of my day as a mother. I not only need a few minutes to breath deeply and think without interruption, but I also desire for my tired little ones to surrender and get the rest that I know that they need even when they think that they aren't tired. Today looked like one of those days when I would battle my two-year-old most of the afternoon just to get her to give in minutes before I had to wake her to head to a her brother's soccer game. I was especially convinced of this when I looked in to see her standing up in bed and dancing around with her blanket. After correcting her, we tickled and kissed then I reminded her that it was time to settle down and rest. The next time I looked into her room, I was prepared to enter the battle once more, but wonder of wonders, she was asleep. It was then that I realized how important it is to her that I keep my word, when I tell her that I will be checking back to see if she is asleep. When I keep my word and punish her for her misbehaviour, I am giving her reason to believe all the words that I say. Words like, "I love you," or, "You are smart." When I keep my word and make her obey, I am proving to her little heart that I am telling the truth when I tell her about the God of the Universe and His love and sacrifice for her. What a motivation to take care with the words that I speak to my children! What conviction that I must follow through on the expectaions that I set.

One, Two, Three, . . .

2010-03-05T15:01:00.000-08:00

My father's good friend died last week. My husband is traveling, and I always imagine his not coming home when he is away. Maybe because of those things, or maybe because we are expecting again and with that comes wondering how long I will carry this baby, I have been thinking about the transitory nature of human life. We live like we have forever, but really our lives are like a vapor (James 4:14). Moses talks about learning to number our days so that we will apply our hearts to wisdom. I think that that means that when we realize that our days are limited, we begin to weed out the pursuits that don't advance our true agenda. We begin to focus our efforts on the priorities that we often tend to push aside for another time because of all the things that we allow to clutter our lives. What people and pursuits would I be "wise" to set aside the frivolous for? What did I do differently today, because I am living with my mortality in view; I am realizing that this life is not all that there is, and I am counting each day as precious, to be invested, not squandered? LORD, I need wisdom to see my days as you see them. Please teach me to number my days.

In grief

2009-12-20T22:09:00.000-08:00

Sometimes life is like being on top of a ridge. The trees fall away and the view opens up. One can see for miles around and the bright sunshine illumines everything in sight. It is easy to see all that God has done and is doing. More often days seem like walks in the forest where the views are limited to glimpses of the glories beyond the trees. Dust and tree roots occasionally take the eye away from the grand vistas just visible beyond the trees. Other days, darkness presses in so heavy that the light seems gone; the path faint if present. It is then that faith points the way, not out of the darkness, but toward the light unseen, yet trusted.

I chose to trust Your hand in the darkness. I chose to hear Your voice in the night. Even if the answer is not the one that I seek. I trust Your love. I trust You.

I like stories.

2009-12-17T19:42:00.000-08:00

I would rather read a novel than an encyclopedia. I suppose that most people would. Many times I have caught myself looking to the Bible as an encyclopedia. I turn to it to see what God says about this or that. I have even counseled new believers or seekers that they should begin with one of the gospels rather than reading the Bible like other books where you start at the beginning and finish at the end. It struck me today (while running) that the Bible isn't an encyclopedia. It is, rather, a story, the greatest story ever told. It is a love story, a true story, a compelling story. And as such it should be read with an eye toward theme and story line. From Genesis to Revelation, the themes are laid out: God is. He is powerful. He loves me. He pursues me. He wins me. He wins. Anyone for a good read?

Did it!!

2009-11-26T21:54:00.000-08:00

While training for my last marathon, I noticed that running wasn't really that much fun anymore. Today, I started on a four mile run. I haven't been training and knew that four would be a difficult run. About two miles in, I was running well and getting very tired. My husband drove past with the kids on their way home from the park. Since my training schedule called for a two mile run, I asked him take me home. I wanted to be done. I'd done what I was supposed to do. Then, I decided not to get in the car. I decided to do something hard, something that I didn't want to do. I'm glad that I did. It was actually fun.

Back in the Saddle, Again. . .

2009-11-23T20:30:00.000-08:00

My husband tells me that I am a runner. I tend to argue with him on that point. My running life has been rather on-again, off-again for the last four years, although it wasn't much more committed before that. It seems to me that real runners run, not just read about it or encourage others to do it. This winter, I have set a goal for myself. I am planning to run our local running club's Winter Series, not just the Winter Series, but the Long Series. This morning was my first run after two weeks off to nurse my husband and move. When I left the house, it was clear and cold. I pushed up the hill to get into position to watch the sun come up and ran toward it's blinding rays a few minutes before it tucked in behind the low-hanging clouds that filled the sky. When I first sighted Pike's Peak, it's top was just under the clouds, but as I turned for home, most of the mountain was curtained from view. I soon felt the first wetness on my face, but didn't feel the full force of the wind-driven snow till I started down the hill. I then began to be thankful that I had turned for home when I had. By the time that I walked up the driveway, the snow was being driven sideways past the trees. I was glad to return to the warm house. I've run in snow before, but I have never had the joy of running while watching a storm come in before. It is one experience that I would love to have many more times. Seeing the beauty and power of God's creation on display was a wonderful way to start the day.

I'm not two. . .

2009-09-06T21:43:00.000-07:00

When my two-year-old says, "I don' wan to," with a little pout and a stamp of the foot, it is an opportunity to mold her character and teach her about obedience. But, somehow, seeing her do those things, reminds me that I often do the same thing in my own heart. It is amazing how many fights I have with my husband over something that he kindly asks to do for me. Rather than accepting his kindness, I find myself saying, "I don' wan to," in my heart, if not with my mouth. Even worse, I find myself saying the same thing to God. Though I know that God's way is best and that He only sends blessings that are meant to make me stronger, I often don't want what He says is best. I think that I could choose better, and I catch myself stamping my foot and pouting that, "I don't want to," when He sends another challenge. I am the spoiled child refusing to accept the kind correction of the Father that loves me and knows better than I do. So, when I deal with my daughter's heart, may I always remember my own heart and lovingly correct her as my Father does me.

Anne

2009-08-02T19:59:00.000-07:00

For several reasons, I started rereading the works of Anne Bradstreet this last week. Though I had read much of her work in college, this time reading it meant more. So many of the fears and struggles that she expressed are ones that I find myself facing. I recognized the fears of my own heart in her poem written before delivering a child. Her questions and conclusions about her faith struck a familiar chord. Her perspective on the suffering in her life, challenged me to keep believing in the goodness of God. In her meditations, she expresses parallels between her daily life and her spiritual life, as I have tried to do here. Reading her work made me feel less lonely. Almost as if she were a kindred spirit that I know only by what I read. As I read her work and feel the blessing of knowing that another has hurt and questioned and believed, I pray that the thoughts that I attempt to capture here will in some small way be a blessing if in no other way than that I will have thought them out more fully and forced them to stand up to the test of logical expression. (At least I hope that it is logical.) I am so thankful that I had the chance to revisit the lovely work of this old friend.

Not a Running Blog

2009-07-13T21:47:00.000-07:00

I am beginning again to train for a race. This time, I want to run 13.1 miles. I haven't run a half marathon. It seems like it would be a fun distance, a bit of a stretch, but not all the preparation and agony of the full marathon. Now, I am working out a training plan that will prepare me for the half and take into account my recent sabbatical from the sport. In the last marathon that I trained for and ran, I just put in the miles and gutted through the race with little enjoyment or real engagement. This time, I am attempting to put more effort and focus into each training run. Maybe that is because, I haven't really left myself much time to get ready for this race, or maybe it is because I am investing more meaning in this run than in others. Whatever the reason, I ran with a specific goal today. As a result, I am excited to be training and eager for my next run. I haven't felt that way about running for some time. I kinda like this running thing (again.)

To Be or Not to Be

2009-06-16T20:45:00.000-07:00

Asleep or awake, cold or hot, thirsty or satiated, in all of those states, there is a very small line between being in one place or the other. An alarm, a blanket, or a glass of water all can change a person's state in a very short span of time. In just the last few days, I have experienced another change of state. One that is a bit harder for the mind and heart to process. When most women go from being pregnant to not there is reason to rejoice. For our family, that transition is again not one of joy, but one of sorrow. One of the most difficult things about losing a baby in the early weeks is the mental adjustment required. To go from just trying to think through the joy of finding out about the baby to the sorrow of his death causes a real emptiness where there should be a fullness of joy. Suddenly, when I reach to cradle his tiny body in my stomach, I have to remind myself that he is no longer there. Now, when I walk past the maternity clothes at the store, I turn away with tears in my eyes rather than eagerly wondering what new clothes I might need for this pregnancy. There are physical effects of a miscarriage that can be diagnosed and explained, but there are many other emotional effects of losing a baby that aren't confined to the two or three weeks that it takes a body to recover. The event of the miscarrage may be short lived, but it takes a mind and heart awhile to catch up. It will take my mind and heart a long time to catch up.

Pink?

2009-06-16T20:20:00.000-07:00

This spring I went with my husband to get a new pair of shoes. I figured that while we were at the running store, I would get my new shoes as well. I always get the same brand and model of shoes. (My foot is rather particular.) They were out of my size and said that they would have them in a few days. When I went back to pick up the shoes, I got a surprise. As she took my credit card, the clerk made a comment that these shoes were very popular because of the color. It was then that I looked at the shoes for the first time. They were pink. Not all pink, but pink in the way that running shoes are any color. I have had many pairs of running shoes, twenty-three years' worth. In all that time, I don't think that I've ever thought about having pink shoes.

For many women, this might have been a pleasant surprise, but I have always had an aversion to pink of any shade. I was especially nervous as my husband has been known to buy me running gear to match my shoes. The ironic thing is that the longer that I have had the shoes, the less the pink bothers me. It is also ironic that due to a series of events, I have been wearing my shoes more but running less, so they have maintained their "new" appearance longer than most of my running shoes. And so, the girl who has always gone out of her way to avoid being girly kind of likes her pretty new pink shoes.

Tag

2009-05-23T06:19:00.000-07:00

I am new to the cyber world and playing "Tag" in cyber space seems a bit . . . silly, but since my husband "tagged" me, here goes:

8 Things that I did Yesterday:
1. Prayed with my husband
2. Read to my children
3. Celebrated the last day of school at the park
4. Read my Bible
5. Talked to a friend
6. Whispered "I love you" to my little girl
7. Watched hockey, and basketball, and baseball
8. Walked in the rain

8 Things that I Wish/Want to do:
1. Own land
2. Finish my scrap books
3. Know God
4. Read more
5. Bless my children
6. Bless my husband
7. Run
8. Be a good friend

8 Things that I am looking forward to:
1. Spending time with my parents and grandparents this summer
2. Traveling to D. C. with my husband (without the kids)
3. Seeing my "other children"
4. Sharing the lessons that God has lovingly taught me
5. Teaching 2nd grade and Kindergarten in the fall
6. Running a long race
7. Taking quiet walks outside
8. Football season

While there could be many more items on each list. "These are a few of my favorite things." At least at this moment in time, they came to mind.

The Giver of Good Gifts

2009-05-23T05:59:00.000-07:00

I am pregnant again. Anyone who has been pregnant knows that there are many emotions and feelings associated with the first weeks of finding out about a new pregnancy. No matter the circumstances there are always feelings of fear, hope, joy, and sorrow. My emotions have been a bit more unsettled this time around. I find myself assuming that we will not carry this baby to term. I think that this is my way of self-protecting. It is easier not to invest than to face the idea of losing another child. But as usual, God doesn't see it that way, and as I am learning, He isn't content for me to rest in the comfortable niche that I have made for myself. He has wonderful lessons for me to learn even in the quiet places of my mind.

In the quiet dark of this morning, lying next to my sleeping husband, God whispered into my heart that this child is also a gift. Just as are the three sleeping down the hall and the three waiting in heaven. Each child that I have carried, if only for a few weeks, is part of my family and my life. Each one has been a gift to me from the One who only gives good gifts, from the One who blesses me each day with the smiles and love of my living children. And from the One who has blessed me to carry three other precious little ones. Whatever time that the LORD God of Heaven and Earth chooses for me to have with this child is a gift, and I do not want to squander this time no matter how long or short by fearing the path ahead.

I trust you, God to do and work the thing that pleases you with my life and the life of this little one. Thank you, too, for this gift.

The Gift of the Marathon

2009-05-04T14:22:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, my husband ran his first marathon. I am so proud of him. Watching him as he labored along the course and then finished in victory, caused me to think about several things. I wanted to be running. Whenever I see others running, I want to run too. I hoped that he was having fun and savoring the experience. The marathon is different than many events in that one might train and prepare for many months, but not get to finish the race for reasons out of one's control. The race and its running are a gift.

Life is a gift. Each step is a blessing and should be taken with joy and thanksgiving to the God who has given it. Sometimes, I function as if, I have control over the events of my days. But when, I recognize who is really in control and enjoy each step, I have more fun and so do those around me.

Today is my "marathon." Today is my opportunity to relish my gift.

Sand Paper

2009-04-25T05:51:00.000-07:00

My kids are like sand paper. Sand paper is rough and irritating and really good at smoothing out rough patches. Sand paper is used to remove the splinters and defects in a piece of wood. I have lots of rough edges that need to be removed if my life is going to be a blessing to those around me. My children often show me the selfishness and pride that I effectively hide from myself and others most of the time. With them, I see most clearly how I horde my time and energy to do things that please me alone. I see that I am motivated by what will make me happy and not what pleases the other person. Because of them, I see that my love is the love of word and not of deeds, and I am humbled and brought low. I see that the love that God has for me is an active love, and I see how far short I fall of the love that He has called me to.

And, because of them, I see what it means to die daily with Jesus Christ. My daily death comes when I choose to put down the rake, and push a swing instead. My death with Christ happens when I sit down and slowly savor a book instead of vacuuming one more step. My choice to die daily shows love for those around me when I order my days in the way that will bring the most joy to my family and others instead of scheduling my time to protect time for me and my private enjoyment.

The piece of wood that is fashioned and smoothed has little choice to resist the work of the sand paper in the hand of the artisan. I on the other hand, have a choice that must be lived out on a daily basis. Will I allow what I have seen to shape my life and make it a blessing to others, or will I continue to live for myself?

Writer's Block

2009-04-20T14:10:00.000-07:00

When the computer is inaccessible, I am a Hemingway (Yuck, I really don't want to be like him.) just waiting to be discovered. Then the time comes to try to write, and I find that not even spell check can tidy up the mess that my wild thoughts make of the screen. I've been working for some time on a blog about the unfortunate finish of the Boston Marathon, but it seemed like a waste of time for me to type let alone for you to read. Maybe, I will try again another day. . .

2009-03-02T13:52:00.000-08:00

A few weeks before Christmas, I went out in the evening to do some errands. The roads were icy, and snow swirled in the wind. Walking across the parking lots, I noticed that most of the other shoppers had their heads down, tucked in their coats. It was the reasonable and even sane thing to do, but I just couldn't bring myself to waste such a lovely storm by hiding from it. I raised my head to feel the wind whipping the snow against my face. The wind and snow weren't the only things that struck me.

Sometimes things happen that make me want to self-protect. I feel as if making wiser choices, or being more careful, or taking fewer chances can lessen my pain. I determine to live life to minimize struggles. After our baby died, my husband and I talked about if we might want another baby. Honestly, I'm afraid. What if this should happen again? What if we have a baby that is sick? What if? What if? What if? “I don't want to feel this way again!” is my first response, but there is another way to respond to the pain that comes as a natural course of life.

There is surrender; surrender to the One who loves me and wants the best for me. But surrender involves risk. Life is full of risk; there is always something to lose. There is also something to be gained when we let go and take a step of faith that makes no logical sense. It can't be explained and those around us shake their heads at our apparent insanity, but I want my kids to learn to risk. I want them to try new things even when they are afraid, even when it might not make sense. I want them to learn to walk by faith. So, rather than tucking my head into my coat to hide from the storm, I'll throw my head back to see the glory hiding in the storm that God has chosen for me and in the process enjoy the snowflakes melting on my cheeks.

Taking the plunge

2009-02-27T15:22:00.000-08:00

yikes! I hate water. I am especially terrified of jumping into a pool. To me, this blog thing is a lot like having a well-meaning friend come by and push me into the deep end. Though my 1337 hubby has been urging me to write a blog for some time, the final "push" has come in the form of many events that we neither one would have guessed at or asked for. So here I am. I hope that in some ways this blog can be a way for me to share the "thousand blended notes" of my days and the journey that God has mapped out for us.