onathousandhills's Xanga

Couldn't Put Humpty Together Again

Thu, 08 Mar 2012 16:06:09 GMT

There's this new food site that I'm totally hooked on. It's called foodgawker. I spent a lot of time the other day looking at all the things I want to make and think about putting it on pinterest. (If you don't know what pinterest is, you probably: a. live under a rock b. think ponies are ugly or c. pee standing up.) It makes me sad because I want to experiment with so much cooking but I don't have time and when I do, I don't have the ingredients (some of them require fresh produce which does not stand a chance with my schedule.)

I got myself a planter so I can grow my own basil and cilantro. I love basil and I love cilantro. This is a special self-watering planter so I don't have to worry about leaving my little living things since I tend to be away for more than a week every once in a while.

Cooking is just one more things I can't do. It seems my schedule bars me from doing many things which I think will make me a freer person.

This however, is an illusion. I know it, because when I do have time, I'm not always cooking or using it efficiently.

In my last post, I talked about rising up to meet standards.

This is noble, and I love it, and I think it should be done, but it can give rise to some incredibly big issues. The issue is that sometimes, there is so much to do, and so much to desire to do, that the task becomes too great. And all those built-up good intentions fall to the ground and no one (not even all the King's men) can put it together again.

And I get that way sometimes. I run and run and everything is great (runner's high!), and then suddenly--it's like a leg cramp or something--I double over and fall to the ground. And I lie there and moan and think about how difficult everything is. How every time I climb the mountain, there's another one. And how this road is so difficult, and alienating, and blah, blah, blah...

I don't think this is what God intended to happen.

Reflecting on the Sermon on the Mount is always interesting to me. Just when I think Jesus is on my side, saying, "Yes, you can do all things..." and that such things like discipline and surrender and sacrifice are all within my grasp, I remember this sermon, and in particular, the part where Jesus says, "You have heard that it was said to people long ago, 'You shall not murder, and anyone who murders will be subject to judgment."

Me: Yeah. I can do that. No murdering. That's not a big deal.

"..but I tell you that anyone who is angry with a brother or a sister will be subject to judgment."

This snaps me back into focus. Jesus continues to elevate the law to a degree which seems almost ridiculously unattainable.

Except with a change of heart.

Except with a change of mind.

Except with a total collapse at His feet in acknowledgement that we can't do this on our own.

I know there are you control freaks out there who think you can manage life (and spirituality) by careful monitoring of variables and daily activities. Where the straight-and-narrow can be measured out with a ruler and some really strong brick. Or others who think Jesus surely must be using hyperbole. When He says angry, He just means... you know. Killing.

What bars us from freedom and attaining to high spiritual goals isn't a lack of personality, or willpower, or because Jesus doesn't love us quite as much. It's usually an illusion. An illusion that we are clinging to God, because in reality, we are self-sufficient and totally unwilling to let go of the world. It's because of want.

And what can change want?

What can give us a change of heart, and mind, and soul?

I'll let you answer that. Today, the thought of froyo is keeping me alive, once again.

I do, however, believe in character growth, discipline, and steadfastness. But all with an understanding that our foundation is Christ, and that we can achieve nothing outside of Him. This stuff is made of supernatural material.

God is Not a Passive-Aggressive Lover

Tue, 06 Mar 2012 16:45:44 GMT

OK, fine, that was an odd title for a post. But you know, your face is odd, and I don't bring that up (too many times) do I?

Disclaimer: I'm on a thin string.

So yes. Insanity is ensuing. Usually, the kids start getting antsy at 3.5 weeks. Teachers start losing it at 4 weeks. It is currently 5.5 weeks into a no-break stretch and we've got 1 whole week left to go. Things are looking pretty hairy here in the Valley. At least I can count on blue skies and a desk next to a wall-length window. That is nice. I also have my "Work Music" playlist going in the background now. That is usually a Last Resort. It's working. There's not too much the gang of Handel, Holst, Vivaldi, and Satie can't handle. Throw in some Beethoven, Puccini and a dash of Dvorak and Warlock and you've got a winner. I'm tempted to put giant headphones on my head, lock the doors, shut off the lights, and glare at people who knock.

So it seems to me that God takes advantage of times when I am already down to make me do things that I think are pretty mean. The only reason I don't consider it being like someone shining a magnifying glass at an ant's back leg and laughing when it runs around is because... well, because I love Him and I know He's not like that.

But sometimes...

Take the Holy Spirit. I mean, I think He's swell and all, but sometimes I wish He'd leave me alone. Let me indulge in peace. Recently, He's informed me that maybe I should stop liking Jason Statham (I like him for his talent, ok?!) so much, especially since his movies feature blah blah blah blah blahblahblah blah that isn't too edifying or even decent. (See, I edited out that whole section for you discretionary readers.)

And when things like that happen, a series of things happen pretty consistently. This is how I respond:
(a) I say, "OK. I guess it doesn't mean that much to me. Sure."
(b) I proceed to think about life without x, y, z. It's not that bad. In fact, maybe it's better.
(c) I think, "Wait a minute. Aren't I being legalistic here? Can I really do this myself? Isn't this setting myself up for disaster? Hasn't this happened before? I mean, can't I exercise moderation?"
(d) I get upset. Why does Jesus want to ruin my life?
(e) I "scripture-nuke" myself and say, Is not life more than food/movies/whatever? What worth is it if you gain the whole world...
(d) I get upset again. Because it seems like Jesus is saying, "Don't you love me? I mean, you don't have to, but if you loved me, you would."
(e) I say, "Of course I love you."
(f) I remember that Jesus is not a passive-aggressive lover.
(g) I heave a big sigh, feel the burden lift off, and laugh at my foolishness, and remember who Jesus really is.
(i) the One who saved me from myself countless times.
(ii) the One who loves little babies.
(iii) the One who had a real smile and a real hug.
(iv) the One who literally saved me from crashing and burning.
(iii) the One who knows every bit of my soul and loved me and died for me anyway.
(h) I say goodbye to Jason Statham. (Hehe. Or whatever else it might be.)

If I learned anything from my experiences in life the past few months, it's that I am very stubborn, very rebellious, very skeptical of love, and a host of other things I'd rather not bare to the world right now.

Anyway. Whatever the case is, there is nothing too precious to me above my love for God. I want to lose more and more of the ties that binds me to the things of this world. At this point, He's got me wrapped up, bound up, and intertwined. Without Him, I am nothing.

Back to ze work!

Can't Buy Me Love (or Sanity)

Thu, 16 Feb 2012 13:41:27 GMT

It was Valentine's Day a few days ago and it went by neglected on this blog. Many things have been neglected in my life. And many things have had much attention. These are all things that I attach a very neutral value to. As long as I'm learning, I'm happy.

I had the opportunity to call the women I love most in the world this past Tuesday: my mother and my sister. Of all the people in the world, I believe that these two are the ones that influenced me and shaped me the most. I see their example and their guidance in the way I think and approach the world, in my treatment of others, and in the inner workings of my heart. Other than the other-worldly Jesus, the Love of my life, the (often rough) tutelage I received under these women made me who I am now.

Although... I'm pretty sure the martyr spirit in me that wants to champion the undertrodden and fight for the neglected... I'm pretty sure that one came from my dad. At least the martyr part. It's a dangerous part of me but it's the part that got me where I am now professionally and perhaps even spiritually.

Anyway, I called them because I love having excuses to tell people I love and appreciate them. Even better are times that are completely spontaneous. Who needs another commercially-driven holiday to be cookie-cutter robotic lovers? Not me. But I'll take my chocolate and often self-bought flowers, thank you very much.

Speaking of chocolate and flowers.... I read these articles recently in The Atlantic about the flower industry and how there's a 1 in 12 chance that the flowers in shops were cut by child laborers. 90% of flowers sold were imported from Ecuador or Columbia. Granted, not all of these flowers are cut by poor little children, but the adult laborers aren't exactly getting health insurance either. That got me mad. First of all, that we spend 1.7 billion dollars towards one day for things that will wilt away after a few days, and second, that I can't do much about it. What will I do, boycott flowers like I'm boycotting Walmart? Sure, Walmart won't crumble because they're losing my monthly grocery bill to Martin's, but it's the principle of the thing. I hate that I live in a world that is so driven by commercial demand. Making sure I make my flowers last the longest (drying/cutting) is small consolation.

And now on to chocolate! Same deal. Africa produces 70% of the world's cocoa, most of it with cheap labor. The article is interesting, but my point is this: life is difficult for my spirit. I want to at once champion the causes of all the downtrodden in this world, and at the same time, a voice in my head reasonably tells me that (a) I am hopelessly Western-minded and (b) I won't make a dent. (Unfortunately, the second point never stops me from doing anything. Note Walmart example.)

So what now? Shall I stop buying flowers and quit my chocolate cravings? Shall I picket in front of flower stands in supermarkets and hand out fliers about child laborers? Believe me, part of me wants to. But you know what moderates me? Television. OK, better put, education. Explanation: when I was much younger (I believe I was in high school), I watched this series on this news program. Every day they explored some facet of food. The first day was about how meat packing was gross and how the processing and handling of meat in markets and even in restaurants were appalling. OK. I can stop eating meat. The next day was about eating out. Even top-tier restaurants are gross. OK. I can stop eating out, my adolescent mind reasoned. The next day was about vegetables sold in supermarkets. I was starting to get uncomfortable. OK, I can grow my own stuff. The next day was about soil conditions and water quality that would impact gardens. I was close to deciding not to eat anything at all for the rest of my life.

I believe there are things that can be done to better our lives and better the lives of others. I believe that we are compelled to do this, especially as Christians who claim to follow Christ and have been created in His image. I believe that we ought to do our best to be engaged in service and social justice. I want to support causes and do my best to protect humanity. I don't think that it looks like simple boycotting. Because as much as my withdrawal of support of Walmart draws questions and teaching opportunities, it doesn't change lives. And that's what I want. I want to change lives. I want to change the world.

I don't know how I got here from a Valentine's Day post. I don't know how I'll change the world. But I believe education has a lot to do with it. And I don't care where I am, or how I'm doing it, but I want to do what I am doing with joy and fervor. Because God is my Employer (whew. And my teacher. Boy do I remember the lessons I learned during that time.) Because He is enough for me (I lectured my girls on this on Valentine's Day. "Don't get into a relationship unless God is enough for you first!") Because God's vision is different from my vision, and I trust Him. He never did me harm. He always sustained me. He always fulfilled me. He always gave me what I needed.

I trust that will never change. Because He never changes. Because His love for me was the only constant in my life, even while my moods and inclinations and heart changed.

So today, I am grateful for God. My bedrock. My strong tower. My fortress. Today is a Psalm 91 day. (The link jumps to the Message/New American Standard parallel. My dad made us all memorize this when I was a kid. It'll take a little relearning.)

Here's to God being enough, and here's to all the other beautiful loves in life.

Hello 2012 (An Open Letter)

Thu, 05 Jan 2012 17:40:58 GMT

Dear 2012,

I keep hitting "2010" when I try to type your name, but please don't be offended. By now, you should know that I'm bad with names, and you should also know that I'll probably forget yours until March. OK fine, maybe even June. Also, I know it’s a few days in, but I’m not one to be overly sentimental about dates and such.

Your predecessor, 2011, left some marks on me. It was somewhat of a struggle. But on my way down from New York, where I had gone to visit my parents, I heard something interesting on the radio. It brought back a flood of memories and ideas on not only how I want to approach you, but how I want to remember what has passed.

The program was about happiness, and the attainment of it. It was a comprised of a multifaith panel of four people: the Dalai Lama (the 14^th), the presiding bishop of the Episcopal Church in the US (Dr. Katherine Schori), Chief Rabbi of Great Britain (Lord Jonathan Sacks), and an eminent Muslim scholar (Dr. Seyyed Nasr).

Some ideas they brought out targeted the response to suffering and tragedy. I appreciated the words of the Dalai Lama: “..when we face some sort of sad thing, if you look very closely and it looks unbearable, [sic] look from distance. There’s not that much that’s unbearable.”

And then Rabbi Sacks: “The definition of a Jew, Israel, is as it says in Genesis 34, one who struggles, wrestles, with God and with humanity and prevails. And Jacob says something very profound to the Angel. He says, “I will not let you go until you bless me.” And that is how I feel about suffering. When something bad happens, I will not let go of that bad thing until I have discovered the blessing that lies within it.”

This reminds me of a discipline I used to have. A phrase I used to moderate myself. I called it “embracing my suffering.” I distinctly remember teaching myself what it meant to “press against the blade.” Because I believed that it was this blade that would cut away at all the ugliness inside. I became comfortable addressing my faults and allowing God to iron them out. Trials and even grumpiness was welcomed as a means to find the roots and tease them out. Perhaps I’ve lost that view for a while.

So, 2012, I will come at you with the burdens I’ve embraced from 2011. From letting the trials and thrills of the past year help me to approach you a better, more renewed person. I will not let 2011 go without a blessing.

I also want to remind myself that there is nothing that cannot be overcome. No fault in character that cannot be laid at the feet of Jesus and eradicated. No trial that is too large. Nothing so precious as not to give in service and love to God and the dreams He has given me. That whatever comes my way from you, I will not approach with sullenness or discontent, but with a willing heart. I want to remember what it is to grow in grace.

I named your predecessor “The Year of Yes.” I lost that concept about midway through, but it turns out that it was aptly named. It was meant to be a year of saying "yes" to calls of ministry. But it was that and much more. I found myself saying “yes” to letting God share my fries. I said “yes” to the question of if I would be ok with the fact that some questions may never be answered in this lifetime. I said “yes” to risks and leaps of faith and love.

I will not name you. No, you will not be the Year of Pressing Into the Blade. I will allow you to be free to do the work you will do in my life without a lens through which I will be observing it. But in my heart, I want you to see me in a closer walk with the One I love most. I want you to see me in closer and deeper devotion to Him and His work. I want you to see me loving without dissimulation and discretion, without respect of status, history, or even character. I want you to see me pursuing knowledge and faith, and deepening in my devotions to God and to the ones I love.

A friend of mine wrote about how resolutions should be reaffirmations of our priorities. The preceding is a reaffirmation of my priorities. I want to remember them.

Thanks for an excuse to wax eloquent and a chance to make changes.

Love,
One Cow on One of the Thousand Hills

[Comments disabled. Please comment on post below or message if you have something to say to me. Should you have an addendum that you would like to address to 2012, do it on your own blog. :) ]

O Hound of Heaven...

Sat, 24 Dec 2011 01:16:10 GMT

O Hound of Heaven, how I have found that relenting to Your ragged breath on my back has resulted in such bliss... it is not the lion that ravaged my soul, but a lamb.

“But the great thing to remember is that, though our feelings come and go, His love for us does not. It is not wearied by our sins, or our indifference; and, therefore, it is quite relentless in its determination that we shall be cured of those sins, at whatever cost to us, at whatever cost to Him.” -CS Lewis, Mere Christianity

On Being Wrong

Wed, 30 Nov 2011 22:50:18 GMT

So about the depression food I blogged about in my last entry...

I was wrong!

I had made a bunch of delicious experimental popovers and was sure that I had to throw them out and was freezing them in vain. But guess what I'm chewing on now! Yup. A re-warmed popover. And you know what? It's still crispy on the outside and chewy on the inside. Although the chewiness is a little more prominent than it was before, but I think I might like it that way.

Today, someone sent me a pot of poinsettias. They were beautiful. They were in a sturdy reusable shopping bag and there was a little handwritten note attached to it on a small index card folded over itself. It was from the father of one of my graduates. And also inside the bag was a little cardboard box filled with little snacks that you would pack for your "I miss you while you're in college" daughter. Little snack bags of Cheetos (my favorite!), peanuts, some Fritos, and a little ramen packet. I didn't care that it was chicken flavored. I broke down and cried.

I must've had a lot of pent up tears inside, because let me tell you, lo! it was like the floodgates opened. I wept.

I wept about the thought that someone out there cared about me. That as much as I was pouring myself out and caring for these kids, that someone also thought to care about me. I wept at the feeling of being a child again, and the feelings of innocence and hope it used to carry that came rushing back. I wept at the idea that maybe, must maybe, this world wasn't such an alienating place and that I could stick my feet out and be taken care of. I wept at all the stress and pain I've been through the past few months and how the past few days have been a balm of Gilead for me. I wept at the fact that I could finally love my kids and love my job again, and that it wasn't all in vain, and that I am making a difference...

This crying session didn't last the 3 minutes it usually does. And I let myself do it. Thanking God for preserving me, as He always does. For protecting me and taking care of me better than anyone ever could, and better than I've attempted to do for myself. There's a lot in this world I have yet to learn, and a lot of things I'll continue to be wrong about. But with God within me, and beside me, and over me, what have I to fear? What will separate me from the love of God?

My heart can only respond in gratitude and utter humility. Because I did nothing to deserve it, and I had nothing to offer or promote it.

Funny how little gestures can impact a life, eh?

Do something nice for a teacher who impacted your life. I'm telling you, it's what we live for.

Depression Food

Wed, 16 Nov 2011 01:33:38 GMT

Depression food uses the staples. Flour. Egg. Milk. Salt. I think most of those things are luxuries in a depression. At least it doesn't call for much butter (although I added some, not Paula Dean style, however.) Popovers are like depression food having a little party for itself. It's simple, small, but it looks huge. It kinda blows up in the oven but the actual content... mostly air...

I've been resorting to compulsions. Weird routines (actually, no routines.) Pistachios. Baking. Avoidance. Weird fits of... stuff. It's all very messy. What's happening to me?

I made gluten-free brownies again for my kids (I'm thinking I'll give them something every day of the week until break comes, or until I break.) I made experimental popovers. They were perfect. But I have nothing to do with the whole batch but to freeze them, and ultimately I will have to throw them out (I know my own habits. These are true depression popovers. :P ) I am planning to make spinach pinwheels for guests on Friday (I'm skipping the popovers bc it would seem like carb overload since I'll probably make banana bread as well.) I just want to bake and cook and bake and cook but I totally lost my appetite. I don't want to eat anything I make. I stopped coming home for lunch. These babies do not have the siren call loud enough for me to heed... especially if they have to be reheated.

I think I'm losing my mind. I won't let myself count down because 6 full days is still too long. I feel as though I'm holding my head above a rapidly rising water level and the water is starting to ripple into my nostrils. It doesn't help that I saw that movie.. 127? Something? Hours. The one where the guy gets his arm caught in a boulder and he hacks it off with a dull blade (uh, I'd say spoiler alert, but I'm pretty sure it's not a surprise.) He says it's like his whole life was gearing towards that moment. Destiny. I don't believe in that kind of life. I do believe, however, in Interventions. And Help. And... hope. And if that comes in the form of a dull blade... so be it? Is that how it's supposed to work? Is cutting through that nerve bundle worth it? I guess you'd never know until you've tried. Analogies fail when you try to apply it to real life. Sometimes a rock is just a rock.

This year was supposed to be the Year of Yes, and instead it is turning into the Year of BLT. BareLy There. That's right. Nothing to do with bacon. And the "ly" is so powerful it's capitalized within the word. I think I've tripped over myself so many times, and I am starting to distrust every other decision I've been making... I feel as though I'm moving on, but without my arm, or leg, or something I always thought I needed. Does He know what He's doing? Or am I just stupid?

I changed my layout. Just a little. Reflective of the mood. Goodbye yellow Gerbera. Hello, winter. In the meantime, I am hanging in. And waiting. And hoping.

Six Weeks Is a Long Time To Go Without A Break...

Thu, 10 Nov 2011 15:48:56 GMT

"Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted."

Are the promises of God something bankable? Worth staking bets on? Worth taking risks for? When God says that He can heal the broken-hearted, is that real? What does it mean to believe that? How does it look like, even?

In Luke 6, the parallel statement is, "Blessed are ye that weep now, for you shall laugh." I was so taken aback by this that I searched through various versions of the verse (v 21) and found that the key words are the same. Weep. Laugh.

Is that the right words of comfort to tell someone who's crying? "There, there. Someday, you'll laugh again." I mean, I've "bootstrapped" it before, but I doubt the passage is telling people to just deal with it and get over it. Why are these people weeping? Because they lost someone/something they loved? Because they're distraught with sin? Because their donkey stepped on their toe?

And what is this "blessedness"? When does it happen? What does the word "now" apply to? ("Blessed are ye now..." as in, you are blessed now, or "Blessed are ye that weep now," as in you might be currently weeping?)

All this to say that sometimes, life sucks. It finds us cowering in a corner or (even worse) stone-facedly roboting it through the day. Sometimes, it demands too much of you. It's like getting calls from the creditors. Always reminding you of what you owe, what you lack, and the sacrifices you have to make. (Not that I've received these kinds of calls, but it's empathizable.)

Luke's version also says, "Blessed are you who are poor." (versus Matthew's "poor in spirit.") And what if we are poor because we gave it all to God? Is it worth the wait? Or does this also happen "now"?

This is the rich young ruler, who could not be poor for God. Could not give it up. Could not risk what was tangibly his. And then the intangible spiritual poverty might also come from this. From having stuff taken, or from giving it all away. He could not face the fear of surrender. The fear of becoming poor, useless, needy.

Why are the poor poor? I guess even as there are different levels and reasons for poverty in the realm of society, there are different levels and reasons for poverty spiritually. I doubt Christ meant "poor" as a blanket statement.

Speaking of poverty, I am definitely not poor in terms of pistachios. The shelling (and eating) of these nuts are bordering on compulsion. I even have a hand-made pistachio nut disposal made out of paper on my desk (ingenious in its simplicity, really, in my honest opinion.) This recent addiction is, I think, I coping mechanism. At least it's keeping me away from worse habits.

Blessed is she who shells pistachios now, for she shall be comforted.

I had to revise this from: Blessed is she who shells pistachios now, for someday, she may realize that it was the right thing to do.

I don't want to live in the "someday's" or "may's" with God... but I realize I do it. I cling to my narrow vision of the present and rob myself of what I can have in the now. It is a scary thing to choose to be happy? Is that even possible, in the midst of pain? Am I sounding super dramatic? Will I be ok?

Yes, yes, and yes. And yes.

In the meantime, I am very close to the 45 nuts that the container says is the serving size.

And it's not even noon yet.

Mucking, and Cows

Fri, 04 Nov 2011 00:28:04 GMT

I've realized something.

This school year, I've been mucking it. I'm not quite sure what mucking involves, but I know it involves big boots and a lot of grime. I've been on survival mode since the summer, and really, I don't think I've recovered fully from some of the late Spring trauma that came this way. And how it seemed to last forever. And the realization it took to get me out of the pit. But the scum is still under my nails. No, it's somewhere in my heels and I'm dragging it around. And around. And around. I'm stronger, but still faltering.

And yet, it's ok. I know the trajectory of my flailings and although it's not clean, and straight, and uncomplicated as I would like it to be, it's ok. Me and Him... we're gonna make it. And if these are lessons, come. Do it. I always grew and (sigh, in faith,) I will look forward to learning more. And lately, it's not been so bad. There has been moments when everything is clear again. (Although it's been rough recently. Blame it on Sucktober. See prev post. Or was it the post before that? Eh. Who cares. It's NOVEMBER.)

Sanity is like a herd of cows. (Pun intended.) "Coming to oneself," is like the cows coming home. Cows and dogs and sheep and goats. Except the moment the door opens again, out they go, gallivanting into the green green grass, deaf to the commands to stay put. Except for the dog, who hears and decides not to obey... And usually, it's the darkness that calls them. These are not your nyctophobic quadrupeds...

So I'm missing a few cows. And basically, they're out all day. Chompin' on the grass. Pooping on the lawn. Hanging out in some various other state/country/Canada far away. Hiking in the foothills of Shenandoah. Learning new languages on Rosetta Stone when it should be me learning Portuguese and German and Italian... the goats and sheep are out too... and the dogs... well, by this point it should be clear that I'm struggling with maintaining something important up there.

But, as this site's title implies, God owns the cattle on a thousand hills. And all my lost cows are His. I am also assuming that He owns the cowbell, or whatever these people use to call the cows home. So. In the meantime. I will wait, and do my best, and realize that the human heart and mind and mood are really poor indicators of what's real. Self-reports, as I'm learning even from my own declarations, are ever the more further off the mark.

I miss my friends. I miss my family. I miss... a lot of things. And I desire a lot of things. Like for this year to be over. The whole school year. Bam. Now.

But if I can remind myself of not just tomorrow, but the dreams of tomorrow's tomorrow's tomorrow.... I can do this. My net is cast far. I guess it's like riding a bike... I've been wobbling over the pebbles I'm trying to avoid, but perhaps... perhaps if I look up, it'll be ok. Or, I could wipe out, forget to unclip, and splatter myself all over the road. And you know what? I think that won't be the end of the world.

I've been writing more. That's either a bad sign or a good sign. (But not a useless one.)

And if you find a cow or two ambling around that belongs to me, please return it. I'd be grateful. I'm pretty sure there's one up in Michigan that I'd like to claim in person. Until then.....

Don't eat me...

TH Diaries: Jesus Cares

Wed, 02 Nov 2011 18:42:00 GMT

I was singing the hymn, Jesus Cares. You know, the one that goes, We have heard the joyful sound: Jesus cares, Jesus cares! Spread the tidings all around: Jesus cares, Jesus cares. Bear the news to every land, climb the mountains, cross the waves; Onward! 'tis our Lord's command; Jesus cares, Jesus cares.

OK, except the words are really Jesus Saves, but I didn't realize that til right about the time I started writing out the lyrics.

So, back to the TH Diaries. It's been a while. I promise, the whole hymn thing is applicable. (If you're wondering what "TH" stands for, it's super top secret, so... you won't find it. Heh heh. Alls you need to know is that it's about me hitting the road. Literally.)

I started running again. Since yesterday. It's difficult to say no to perfect fall weather running. And I mean, perfect. Yesterday, on my quick run, I had one objective: enjoyment. I didn't care about the time, didn't care about the mileage, didn't care about the fact that I hadn't eaten... my body had been screaming for some time: Run me! And although that call is very confusing coming from someone like me, I obeyed. I think my body remembers the adrenaline rush and started to crave it. And also because there's a lot I needed to get off my chest.

There are some people who like to be occupied when they run. Music, conversation, thoughts. When I run, I just like to be. I like to breathe. I like to smile and talk to myself. I like to pretend I'm having conversations (today, Oksana ran with me! We had a good talk and some laughs.) I like to close my eyes and feel the wind through my ponytail and the air going through my lungs. I like the feel of the breeze. I like to let my thoughts just work themselves out or fly out behind me. I feel that if you're miserable, it's not worth it. (Sometimes it's the right kind of misery, though.)

It was a beautiful day. And even more beautiful were the hills. They're positively orange/red, and in the setting sun, they looked even more blazing. The air was cool... and quiet. Peaceful. I was so zoned out I didn't even hear my own footfalls. I closed my eyes and just let myself go. (This only works when there's a straight trail ahead.) I figured I'd stop when I couldn't go anymore.

I didn't need Oksana's griping. I didn't need food. A canteen of water and chia seeds worked out just fine. It was marvelous. I don't know how far I went in total, or how much time it took. It was fun. I want to go again.

Today was community service day at our school. It's a nice day apart. And I love doing community service. Nothing better to get things in perspective than when you're helping others. And once in a while, manual labor is awesome. I'll be achy tomorrow, but it'll be worth it. I was raking and weeding and chilling with my students and I realized that this was exactly what I needed. Blue skies, peace, and perspective. And now I'm home. Early. It feels good.

Tonight will be Bible Study, and people, and friends.

(Thought you'd never see that picture again, huh? Guess what! I thought I'd never be such a running snob that I'd notice that her posture is all wrong... She's setting herself up for injury... ;) Forefoot strike it, girlfriend!)

There's a lot in life that I would like to get a handle on. Because this Christianity thing... what is it if it's not lived out? If I can't take this overabundance of love I've discovered in my heart and let it work through me and change me? If I won't take hold of the promises of this Man that I've committed to follow? What is my life if I do not live what I believe? Don't I believe? Yes, yes I do.

And yes, all this while raking. I'm telling you, it's good stuff.

If I could be as lucid as I am now than when the sun isn't shining, and the sky isn't blue, and the weather isn't perfect...

But if my life attests to anything, it's that Jesus cares. About me.

It still breaks me inside to think about why, and what He had to do to reach me. To change me into someone who I actually don't mind being alone with. Someone who has peace. I never thought I'd have it. And that He cares enough to keep teaching me new things and calling me higher. Anger and meanness had abounded, but Grace has abounded and continues to abound.

And to my dying breath, I will hold to the knowledge that God does indeed move the world for people. It is as though for just a little bit, you are the axis. The center of it all. The apple of God's tender eye. And in the knowledge of those moments, I found Him. And I will never, ever give Him up.

Update: Another good run. Tired from the exertion already put in. I must've had a lot to mull over because at one point, I was talking out loud. Shouting, actually. Weird. Luckily, no one was around. But I think I came to a good decision: I'm going to get some froyo. By myself. Yum.

TH Archives:
Day One
Day Two
Continuing Saga
Week Four
Race for the Run