let’s see. what’s going on with us?

1. The Half-marathon training is finally over! For those of you not on Facebook to get the 1500 updates on that day, it was May 1st. I finished in my goal, of 2.5 hours. I tweaked my hip somehow and ran the last 2 miles, crying silent but constant tears from the pain but I DID IT. Pictures to come!

2. I have thrashed our yard. I’ve been busy opening it up, and taking out fences and hedges and posts and planters and really simplifying. Like de-cluttering your house or losing weight, simplifying takes an awful lot of work at first. But I like the direction it’s headed in. Pictures to come!

3. Caleb took his 5th grade test today, to meet State requirements. I didn’t do any test prep with him, or go over the years lessons at all, because I wanted to see exactly where he was and not skew the results at all, even accidentally. So all he got this morning was a reminder to take his time, and a hearty breakfast. Basically I threw him in the deep end, to see if he could swim. And when his test results came back 2 hours later? I’ve been grinning all day over my little Michael Phelps.

4. Speaking of school, I am deciding what to do for next year. With Caleb starting Middle School, Sam finishing it, and Josiah having only 2 years left in High School I am re-evaluating EVERYTHING. I want to make sure we are on a good course and finish strong! God hasn’t released His calling on us to homeschool these boys, so I am studying curriculums and praying for clear guidance. It recently hit me the specific Domino affect my homeschool choices will avail : That, if they don’t do well academically–then they won’t get good jobs or get into college–meaning then they cannot afford to ever move out–much less, get married–which means I will still be cleaning up after male offspring well into my 50s, and worse yet, I will not get passels of grandchildren. So we are cracking books HARD, next year! haha!

5. Our cat, Zuzu, currently has “songbird fever” which is a malaise of unknown origin. The vet suspects she ate a bad bird, or mouse or etc.  $$ we need for curriculum is spent on a silly animal and yet I don’t care–I absolutely love this cat. Whatever price they asked for the antibiotics she needed, I would’ve scraped up somewhere.

6. I want to change this blog format and design, because it’s so boring. But if I can hardly get time to POST, it’s not going to happen anytime soon!

7. Iphones are like babies. Everyone raves about them, but until you get one yourself, you can’t understand just how amazing and life-changing they really are. An Iphone was my early Mothers Day gift from John, and I’ve had a lot of fun with it this last week. However, I am all thumbs when it comes to texting-terrible, really really terrible and slow. Can an old dog really learn new tricks? I am afraid my pretty french nails may have to go, in order to type, and that’s going to be a hard sacrifice to make–I do so like my girly nails.

8. Yesterday I cared for a good friends children, and we had so much fun…a tea party, and watercolor painting, and playing together and I was struck by how I just adore these four kids. Partly because I’ve known them 5 years and watched them grow up but mainly because I so love my friend, that I cannot help but love her children. Then, that evening, we went to another friends home and listened to her son give a piano recital. As I watched her boy, so newly tall and deep-voiced, play so beautifully, I was almost in tears. Partly because he did so well, but mostly because I was so happy for her, knowing how she must be feeling such amazed pride (and totally justified!) pride at the way her only child was growing into such a fine young man. And it struck me how, because I love and treasure these women, therefore I can’t help but love and treasure their kids…and how it ought to be that way! For, if we love God, we cannot help but to love His kids. and yet so often, it isn’t true and some Christians can be so harsh, so self-righteous. It breaks my heart to see “believers” be some of the coldest, most judgmental people on earth. Isn’t this what Jesus meant when He said to Peter three times ”do you love Me? Then, feed my sheep.” and elsewhere, when John said “and they will know we are Christians by our LOVE.”

9. We are doing respite foster care for the rest of May, for a toddler girl whom we adore. My adoring her doesn’t mean that I’ve forgotten how time-consuming a preschooler is! Since she comes on Friday morning,  I am spending the rest of this week racing around doing all the tasks on my To Do list that require more than 30 minutes of undivided attention. And, if there aren’t any blog posts until June, you’ll know why, right?

 In other words? These tights are so snug that nothin’ jiggles. I had read about (and coveted) them, via Runners World magazine, and therefore I knew to snatch them up when I saw them at the Goodwill for just $4.99.

This afternoon, when the boys saw me wearing them? There was a lot of oohing and aahing and a (quite rare) compliment to my looking “cool!” and even an enthusiastic comparison of my legs and Spider-mans costume…

Do you like how I put the can of fruit there, so you can do an accurate size comparison? These are teensy-tiny. I know what you are thinking:

“So. Brenda. Just how did you get your pineapple tidbits in there, anyway?”

and let me just say, it wasn’t easy, but I did it. And I ran over 5 miles in them, and they worked as described. I even learned a few things! For instance:

1. I learned that our house is exactly 2.3 miles from the closest Dari-Mart.

2. and that, if you are panting and sufficiently sweaty, and you look like you might pass out next to the Beef Jerky display? That the kind clerks at Dari-Mart will waive the .25 cent cup fee, and let you have a glass of water.

3. and also? If you are disoriented and exhausted enough to press the wrong button–you get carbonated water.

4. and if you gulp down 16 ounces of carbonated water in 30 seconds, and then start running…

5. you will burp.

6. a lot. like: overandoverandoverandover, until you start getting nervous that, like Charlie and his grandfather did, you will start rising into the atmosphere, Willy Wonka style.

7. And, if you live in a little podunk town, full of bored, desperate rednecks driving around in rusty trucks? Then–even if you are middle-aged, and wrap your legs in spandex like sausage and sweat profusely and run down the main sidewalks, belching…

you can still get a whistle or two.

After the run? I was achy and sweaty and HAPPY. Somehow I was now in a totally different frame of mind. A flip had been switched and I marveled on the miracle-how could an hour and a half of actual PAIN mean I now felt peace, and  hope, and joy? Cue lightbulb moment:

Turns out that, for my attitude? prayer and running are very much the same. The main difference is that I can pray without running, but I cannot run without praying.

Since then, I have been mulling over other ways that the two disciplines are quite similar and here are a few I’ve considered:

1. Both are natural to every human alive, even if only when under threat.

As children we ran. and we talked to God. Even without anyone teaching just how, it was just natural. What a shame that we “outgrow” such simplicity!

They say there is no atheist in a foxhole, and that is also true. So often in the darkest, hardest moments of life, a person will find themselves crying out to a God they neither believed in nor honored, when their life was still good.

And so it is with running, too. Because even if you haven’t done it since childhood? You will find how comes naturally it comes back, when a vicious snarling Doberman starts after you

2. and yet…both are unnatural to our flesh.

Walking is easy, and I’d done it for years…the “experts” insisted that alone was enough to lose weight, but that wasn’t true, for me. I walked for miles, and hours, both with friends and alone. Even completed a few half-marathons, walking. A little sweaty and tired, but not broken. Not changed. Running took me out of my comfort zone, almost immediately. I was spent, and sweaty and felt completely inadequate, after only a mile. I thought I was in decent shape from years of walking and exercise but running required more than I had. Prayer is similar. I go into quiet time and happily read chapters of the Bible-love it, simple, easy. Then the time comes to pray and I am often tongue-tied. or distracted. or feel completely inadequate. Jesus warned us “Watch and pray so that you don’t fall into temptation. For the spirit is willing, but the body is weak.” and anyone who has risen at 6 AM to pray, and fallen asleep instead, slumped over their Bible in the recliner? Knows He is talking to them. My body IS weak. EVERYDAY my spirit craves a long hard run, yet EVERYDAY my body protests the entire way!

running: my spirit loves being outdoors, worship music on the Ipod, the challenge of persevering through pain. my body loves stopping. and eating at Taco Bell.

praying: my spirit craves time alone with God, reading His word and sharing my heart with Him. my body prefers sleeping in, reading the Pottery Barn catalog, and facebook.

3. Both require getting past the initial discomfort, to grow.

Because I was once so terribly bad at both prayer and running? I couldn’t imagine a day would come that either would become something fluid, or natural. Something I both craved and needed on a regular basis.  I stuck with prayer because I wanted to get to know this God, for myself (and the only way you connect with someone is through talking-we know this about others, but forget it is true about our Father-He’s a person.). I stuck with running out of sheer stubbornness. I kept stumbling along with both because those experts who had gone before me (found in running books and in christian books on prayer) encouraged: there are rewards. it’s hard, but it gets easier. you won’t regret a minute invested. you will be changed. keep trying. And how exciting to discover: they were right.

4. Both require lots of practice alone, before you are comfortable doing it with others.

I don’t usually like running with other people, because I get performance anxiety. Will I be slower than they are, hold them back? Will they inwardly laugh at my form, and recognize what an amateur I am? What if I don’t feel it, and take a walk break? I don’t always enjoy praying out loud in a group of people, for the same reasons. What if I don’t feel it? Are they inwardly laughing at my form? What if my words stumble and they recognize what am amateur I am?

When I was in San Francisco I ran with the group (more accurately, I ran with another Mom in the group, and the young, strong high schoolers from the track team? they ran circles around us two.) and it was one of the “stresses” before I left–how I would be giving up my alone time, running. Yes, each run started with a flurry of butterflies in my stomach and the usual insecure thoughts about how my legs looked in spandex–but then? Once I got going, my body fell into the familiar habit  formed by miles of practice and the legs churned and the arms pumped and my body said “oh yeah. running. we like this.” And the run became special, because I was now sharing the formerly solitary experience with another kindred heart who was invested and involved, with me.

Prayer has been the same way. When I am thrust into a situation where suddenly I need to pray aloud, with others? I feel the momentary butterflies and insecurities too, but, if I am what I call “good-and-prayed-up” (those dry times spiritually without much prayer? it makes praying in a group feel like a lie, and my words will just stick in my throat!) yet if I am practiced, then my spirit relaxes and my heart settles into “oh yeah. talking. with God. we like this.” And the prayer becomes special, because I am sharing the experience with kindred hearts, who are invested and involved, with me.

 5. Both of them break something inside of me.

I have become aware of a strange phenomena. After about five miles of straight running, I start to quietly cry. More than eight miles and I will collapse into a heaping pile of sobs once I am home, in the shower. I don’t know why. The first time it happened, I thought it was just the song on the iPod. The second time, I blamed those lovely female hormones.

(I was telling a friend about this curiousity, and she suggested maybe it was merely my poor body, begging me to stop this madness! ha!)

I don’t know, but I don’t fight it anymore. I let the tears roll unhindered down my cheeks and I just keep running. I have forced myself to stop analyzing it, or trying to push the tears down, out of silly fear of what the neighbors think because one day I realized: it always happens when I run over an hour or so, and this is exactly what occurs when I pray for that long. This same, deep inner place gets touched. I get up from prayer with wet cheeks, not noticing when those tears started. (I only know that the God who “holds all our tears in a bottle” must have a big jug up there, with my name on it!) Why does it happen when I run? I don’t know, or care. There are painful things which I was never able to openly cry for, and probably should have. Maybe now is the time? Whatever it is, I humbly accept it as a gift. The proof that it is mercy (and not just Brenda-being-emotional-and-or-crazy!) is in the lasting effect, after. How it is cathartic. and I feel cleansed. and my spirit grows much, much stronger.

It is just running. I get that. There is nothing magical about it, at all, I know. But I cannot help but think of Naaman-doubting. dying. desperate. Him, all covered in white leprous sores and dunking down over and over in foreign muddy river water, just in case it might possibly work…

When you ask God to heal the hurting, broken places inside you?

You don’t get to quibble with Him on the HOW.

and my being vulnerable and open, and telling the whole Internet? It is just my way of testifying to the goodness of God. He cleanses, He heals, and I AM GRATEFUL.

SO glad we don’t have a generator!

I don’t know why, I just know I am grateful for the way running is making me stronger, both inside and out. And ask everyone, what I am learning I am going to talk about, because that’s just how I process stuff! This blog is kind of  a one-sided conversation and so when I get stuck on a topic (this month it happens to be running, as I gear up for the marathon) you may want to interject with a yawn, occasionally, but luckily I can’t see your eyes rolling. As always let me remind you: no one holds a gun to your head and makes you read my drivel!

Those of you still with me–do you want to hear about an aspect of running that has helped improve my every day, regular life?

Running forces me to be more balanced.

I am a passionate person, an all-or-nothing personality. Prone to great heights of joy and dark valleys of pain, in a single day. Heck, a single hour. I’ve grown used to embracing life through this filter–BUT you can’t run like that. When I started running in 2009, I didn’t know. The idea had been to run like I lived…meaning that I would tear out of the driveway and run like my feet were on fire and ignore all pain and focus on getting just as far as I could!! Before dropping in exhaustion, turning around and limping home in defeat. Surprise! I didn’t ever get very far and was filled with frustration.

Then I read beginners tips that said–duh–running is hard on the body, and not natural, and takes a lot of time and practice to build up to. If you just go all out? you will hurt yourself, and quickly give up. John Bingham said to start out running “so slow that neighbors stare and you feel a little ridiculous.” Other experts agreed. I heard ”start slow, then taper”.  The Team in Training run coach suggested walking/running equal paces, (I used telephone poles) and slowly eliminating the walk breaks over time until you could eventually run the whole way. I thought this was wimpy, silly, took too long and was far too simple: how could something so easy, work? I don’t want to be coddled! Yet my way certainly wasn’t working and I still desperately wanted to learn how to run, so for once I listened to the experts and did what they said to do…and shocker! it worked.

Even now, though I can run miles without a walk break, it is only because I still force myself NOT to tear out of our driveway. I have to be balanced. I have to force my feet to maintain an even tempo, despite a fast paced song or the mornings enthusiasm or that second cup of coffee, kicking in. I have learned that I only have so much energy, and in order to have long-term success? I have to ration out my small cup of strength for the long haul. If I want to go 6 miles? I can’t spill out the contents in the first 2 miles. This has translated well into my daily life. We’ve been lied to, you know. We’ve all been told that “we can have it all, do it all, be it all” and what they forgot to add?

“but not at once.”

Another aspect of running I have added to my real life?

Watch your form. Especially when you are tired.

 I don’t mind admitting what a poser I am: My running form is a straight up copy of Jennifer Garner, the actress that played the TV spy Sydney Bristow, on the now defunct show “Alias”. I was full of quiet awe, watching her lean form jogging across the TV screen, her with the ponytail bouncing as she combined her daily cardio with dropping top-secret spy notes. There I sat on the couch, watching TV and nursing a new baby and both of us were soft and squishy and I was envious. Running wasn’t really big in Yakima (unless you were runnin from cops, haha) so this TV character was practically the only runner I had seen, and so the first time I ran and didn’t know what to do with my hands? I went all “Alias spy” in my head and tried to emulate her form. You love my dorky self, don’t you?

Later, as I read more about running I happily discovered that her form was totally correct. You need to keep a tall, straight back, yet run “loose”. Keeping your hands in a soft C shape like she did, not clenching your fists. Pumping your my arms straight back, not crossing the mid-line of your waist. I was being a goof and copying a TV star but it turned out all right! And the only thing I miss since cutting off my long hair is the feel of my heavy brown ponytail bouncing–just like Sydney’s did. She’s a foot taller than I am, but we had matching hairdos, so we could’ve passed for twins, I was convinced.

Form matters the most when you are tired. After 3-4 miles my back starts shlumping in a dowagers hump (lovely. Sydney never gets tired!) Then my arms started crossing at the waist. Soon, I realize the only view I’ve seen is the tops of my shoes, not the horizon, and I am overstriding with my legs, again. So I tell myself “Act like a fresh, strong runner!” Because I feel neither, so I really am “pretending”. It feels silly and a little hypocritical but it’s magic…every time. Just as soon as I pull my head up, straighten my posture, take shorter strides and focus on pumping my arms correctly? I feel a burst of energy and strength come back! It’s almost like my heart and mind are taking cues from my body and thinking and feeling whatever it interprets, in my physical form…

slumping? shuffling? looking down? body says–oh! she is exhausted and cannot continue. Shut down all systems!

tall back? smile on? looking ahead? body responds-oh! she’s serious, so open those reserve tanks up, baby!

So how does this correlate? Because in regular life…I get tired, too. I have walked with God 30 years now, and I still forget my form when overwhelmed or exhausted. It’s simple stuff, too–as simple as ”head up, back straight”… Every day find some time for reading the Bible, and pray. It’s the “form” that gives energy, and purpose, and strength for life’s journey. Easy peasy. Know that. Of course. 30 years. got it. and yet…

When I neglect that simple form: weariness sets in my spirit, fast. I can only go “a few miles” into the day and then I am out of my own strength and naturally start “looking down at my shoes”-myself.  I revert back to my innate selfishness, and whine and grumble, and snap at the children.

The best thing to do right then? is go back to “good form”. I’ll tell myself  “okay–act like a fresh, strong Christian!” even if it feels false, or untrue at that moment.

Smile instead of snap. Serve instead of sit. Pray instead of pout.

Focus on good form: Read a few verses, pray for as long as needed-just let the Spirit of God lift these eyes up and off of myself and gaze for a bit on that horizon coming closer-eternity. Every time, I am amazed at how quickly He works, how fast He can fill a dry cup back to the brim. I feel renewed and with that fresh energy and enthusiasm, I am able to, once again,  “run the race in such a way as to gain the prize.”

I didn’t take pictures until the last day, when we took the kids sightseeing. We were so busy serving during the week, that my camera would’ve encumbered. I regret that I don’t have more photos of the “real” San Francisco, the one we saw. I’ll try to describe that one for you, later. For now? The beautiful, the lovely, the ideal in San Francisco-starting with the Golden Gate Bridge. We were able to run across and back, early one morning before the sun was all the way up. 3 plus miles in the strongest wind and rain I have ever been in…and it was the best run of my life.

The painted ladies, through the bus windows. I love SF architecture.downtown SF. I wish I had gotten a picture of Chinatown, too. It is amazing.Josiah took this one, on the way home. That charter bus was pretty comfortable, considering how much I HATE long drives! So many people to talk and laugh with, the time went by pretty fast.The top of famous Lombard Street. I had thought I had run Lombard St. in the ’09 marathon, but I must have had it confused with another hilly one because this was SO curvy and unique–I knew I’d never been here, before! It was a good, steep climb and a beautiful view from the top.The “after” photo from Ghiradelli square. Everyone who was able to finish their giant hot fudge sundae could pose. See, Josiah, to the left? Don’t worry-I was faithful to Lent and had a Dasani water.

Josiah and I, in front of the Golden Gate Bridge, staring into the sun and on day 6 without a shower.

What I don’t have photos of, but will not forget:

graffiti on every wall. garbage in the street. chinese grandmothers, pushing carts. desperate prayers. drunk men, passed out and vulnerable. high schoolers, worshipping with hands held high. broken windows. angry shouts of defiance. barred doors. kids, knocking brave on those doors. rats in garbage cans. checking the grass for syringes before they can play. children of every color, laughing and oblivious to their poverty. the smell of urine soaked clothing. the gratitude in his face. how she clutched her Bible. how miniscule our efforts felt, against all that darkness.

how sin has ravaged the area so long that satan doesn’t even bother to hide, there.

how God still shows up and fights for His kids.

 5 years later…almost a full head taller than me!

(and I want to note, because I just know saw it and am annoyed how it wrecked an otherwise nice photo! but I really, REALLY hate this t-shirt, ugh-skulls. Yet, his Dad bought it for him (and said afterwards ” I didn’t notice THAT part.” LOL) and it’s Josiah’s favorite because it is from the video game “Call of Duty”, which he isn’t allowed to even play, so it’s like his consolation prize! Sssshhhh…don’t tell, but the dryer is going to “eat it” someday!)

getting on the bus to San Francisco, at 6 AM tomorrow…prayers are appreciated!

We are still going to give up our Spring Break to do Missions. We are still going to sleep on the ground and go without showers for too long. We are still going to serve, and pray, and love on broken people who are in desperate situations.

This is God’s trip, and He has been faithful to direct and guide. The decision not to go was made by our church elders and I both understand and respect it. There was a murder in the town we were headed to, and crossing the Mexican border is always chancy. Besides the violence, there were other “red flags” that seemed that perhaps God was leading our team away from “what we’ve always done” to do something different.

The safest place to be is in the center of His will, and the decison not to go wasn’t made out of FEAR but out of this genuine desire…the prayers I heard over and over were “Lord, we just want to be in Your will. Show us what You want. We’ll go wherever!” and God answered by making sure the “Yes, go here!” was nice and clear:

We are going to San Francisco. We’ll be working with City Impact 911, a rescue mission in the Tenderloin district. Here is their website:

http://www.cityimpact911.com/

There is an inner city school full of needy children to love on. Soup kitchen to serve meals at. Opportunities to hand out blankets and food and prayers to the homeless on the streets at night. and much more.

I signed up for this trip because I loved Mexico when John and I went on our anniversary trip there, last yea. The crushing poverty I saw weighed heavy on me, for I knew we were seeing only the tip of that iceberg in the touristy, cleaned-up areas we vacationed at.

plus I have always loved Missions.

plus and also, I heard they needed more adult females on the team.

and oh yeah-my main motivation–my oldest child was going!

I commited to be a team leader to all the students before being a Mom to Josiah, (and I think that is good for him, too.) and the more I get to know them, the more I have come to love these high school kids–they who are willing to give up a week of vacation to get dirty for God, who want to see Him move and be a part of His story. So the trip is all about THEM, and the seeds of servanthood planted deep in their hearts…but…

it also feels like a personal gift from God, to me.

Remember this? The last time I was in San Francisco was in October of 2009, and it was to line up here:

and run the Nike Womens Half-Marathon with Team in Training:

and it was wonderful. and hard.

We met in the hotel lobby on Saturday morning, and headed out as a team for an easy run, just 1 or 2 miles. The race was the next day, so this was just a little jog around downtown SF to keep our leg muscles aware of what was soon to come. Everyone was all giggly and excited and so was I-until we headed out the door and started down the sidewalks. We ran past silent office buildings and store windows full of Prada and Gucci. It was 5 in the morning and there weren’t any pedestrians or traffic and the only noise was from garbage trucks and pigeons and it was so different from the bustling activity of the afternoon before that I was amazed. It wasn’t long until I noticed something else. Wrapped in cardboard, under alcoves and on almost every bench, was a person.

I was stunned.

because everyone kept laughing and running…was I the only one who saw them? and I kept running too. I didn’t want to get lost and I didn’t know what to do, anyway. I felt ignorant and impotent. what could I do, wake someone up and offer him my pink, $135 shoes? When we had to run around human feces on the sidewalk, there was a murmur of complaint. I got back to our hotel room and greeted poor, sleepimg John with a torrent of tears.

This was ridiculous! Why was I here? The day before, I was happily a part of the thousands of women celebrating our up-coming achievement by shopping at the Nike Store, and buying souveniers. The guilt and conviction I felt was palpable. All this time and money and energy to do what: run up and down the streets?! Did that really matter, when people–created in the very image of God people–were sleeping in the streets and ignored–even run right past by us, the healthy and wealthy, as if they were merely a part of the faceless building they slept up against?

you can ask John and he will tell you how I was I wreck. How he held my arm all day and put up his palm and said over and over again his firm “No, thank you.” as we walked around the Wharf. John joked that I was all gush inside and an easy mark and he’s right…I think my countenance must have communicated to every needy person there: “Come and get it!” If it hadn’t been for John’s protection I would have been out of food, clothes and money in about 12 minutes. 

The dark cloud hanging over me was starting to ruin everything. John and God and I talked about it, and I came to see that it was okay that I was there. It was a miracle of a different sort, my running that 13.1 miles. God reminded of all the things He had taught me through the running-about Himself, about perseverance, about faith. and I had raised a lot of money to fight cancer. I was doing something really hard, and relying on God to finish the job. This was a good thing, too and I could set the other things aside for now, and focus on this moment. and so I did.

And I ran the race.

and the next day, before we left for the airport, another hairy, dirty man came up and asked us, again, for money. His sleeping bag had been stolen and he was hungry. John started to put up his hand but I shot him one of my looks that says “oh please? let me have this one?” and because he knows my heart (and it helped that we were about to leave so I couldn’t give everything away!) John relented, because more than anything–he loves me.

Then I got to invite my new friend to a restaurant across the street, and asked him his name and delighted in his happiness. I told him God loved him and John bought him a big meal, and then my (wonderful) husband voluntarily gave him all the change, and grinned at me and shrugged his shoulders. And as we walked out of the restaurant, I was so happy I was bouncing and John looked down at me and grinned  “Feel better?!” he asked.

 I declared that it felt as good as crossing the finish line!

Nike and San Francisco put together an amazing race for women. There were SF firemen in tuxes at the finish line with a Tiffanys necklace. There were pedicures, clothing, chocolates, pampering and gifts galore both before and after the race. There was lots of praise and kudos the day after the race, and enthusiastic female runners stating “I’ll be back every year!” and I was silent.

I looked out the window and thought:

“Lord, if I ever come back here, let it be for something bigger than running.”

and we leave this Sunday.