Dear Self: This is your heart calling...

I went running this morning.

I was out of coffee and rather than "running" to the grocery store to get it, I literally ran to the grocery store and ran back with a bag of coffee in my hand.  And perhaps it was the endorphins firing off during the run; perhaps it was simply the beauty of the morning; or maybe my heart is just at peace... but I couldn't stop smiling, laughing, and singing while I ran.  I stopped to take a picture of two birds (this is not something I normally do when I'm focused on a run) balancing atop a church steeple - simply because their poise and perspective struck me this morning.

Oh, for days like this!  Job?  What job?  Let every day be a Saturday...

I arrived back at my apartment, coffee in hand, and glanced around at the many things that I'd like to accomplish today.

Rehang that mirror.
Organize that box o' stuff.
Go through those receipts. (groan)
Return this.
Look for that.

Wait!  Coffee first.  While it percolated, I accomplished one small task on the list of things to do...

With a warm cup of coffee in hand and Jim Brickman in the background (don't judge), I opened up my Bible.  With such a glowing morning behind me, I wanted to stay in a space of inspiration and peace...

Only my mind wouldn't go there.  Before I knew it, I was online looking at occasional chairs!  I was checking email, reading news, googling the artist I'd just heard on Pandora...

Blessed

For the past several months, I’ve been trying to find a church.  This is quite a lot like dating…

There is a first impression based on appearance.  You seek out and wait for similarities to arise, subconsciously hoping the experience is to some extent a reflection of yourself.  You compare the reality to your ideal and measure the proximity or distance of one against the other.  (A strongly foul odor would immediately mean a no go...)

And, like dating, I have my priorities: excellent (and educated) Biblical teaching, a moving worship service, and strong community, i.e. friendly seeming people.  I specify that the people must seem friendly because there is no way one could deduce their true level of friendliness from just one visit.  But I stand a better chance that the people are friendly if they seem so.

Needless to say, my search has yielded few results worth revisiting. (Much like dating…)  Perhaps my priorities are too demanding.  Perhaps I’m looking in the wrong places and haven’t met the “right church” yet. 

I’ve noticed, however, that as I walk with God, my priorities are shifting, or better: reordering. Hearing the right message or singing the right songs has grown less important than finding the right community...

Where Do You Live (From)?

Sorry I've been gone for so long.  Grad school keeps me busy along with two jobs, an internship, the greatest friends and sisters in the world, blah, blah, blah...  I'm back.  And I've got so much on my mind.

I haven't written - not because I lacked ideas - but because I've had too many.  And if you know me, you know that it's tough for me to make decisions when I have too many options.  Well, I've made one.  Here we go...

~ ~ ~

Where Do You Live (From)?

Two people each meet a potential mate.  They're the same age, live in the same town, work in similar jobs, and share similar dreams of happiness.

Two people score a desired job interview.  They're of the same education levels, similar intellectual capacity, matching previous experience, and share comparable hopes for success.

Two people plan a party.  They spend about the same amount of time on the menu, decorations, guest list, and both hope it's a successful and memorable night.

So what?

"I'll Be There For You"

We mean well, don't we?

We see one another struggle, and our hearts hurt.  We see friends make what might be mistakes with substantial consequences, and we wince.  This is at the heart of empathy - hurting for another's pain.  In moments of crisis or confusion, we might get that phone call or text:

Are you available?  I need you.

Masking

I dread Halloween.

Please don't get me wrong, I LOVE the kids.  I love their seeing imaginations at work in their costumes.  Or their mothers' imaginations... no matter.  Little ones dressed as elephants or gumball machines are impossibly cute either way.  Their high-pitched "trick-or-treats," their pillowcase candy sacks.  I love it all.

It's the adult version of Halloween that I dread.

You and Me and We

Several years ago, I went to a meeting for Adult Children of Alcoholics (ACoA).

Breathe

For the past three years, I've been working as a personal trainer.  Sure, I love fitness and am committed to each and every client I train, but lifting weights and constructing workout plans isn't my passion.

Human growth is.

My clients (God bless them) know that working with me isn't always about their physical bodies. Yes, I can kick some tail.  I know how to help people find the shape of their bodies for the first time in their lives, no matter what their age.  I watched a young woman go from obesity to a 5K.  I watched a 76 year old man transition from a sedentary life of overeating and television to walking an 11 mile trail for fun on his birthday, just because he can now.  This work is filled with triumph and disappointment, and I'm there for both on any given day, whether the number on the scale goes up or down...

But the real work I do with my clients is much deeper than calorie counts, body fat percentages, and proper form.

It's the inside stuff.