Running

Running and I have a love/hate relationship
(To be honest, Matt almost fell over when I told him I was going for a run.)

It was a Wednesday. And it was beautiful.
Soft socks, tank top, and yoga pants: I was a runner before I even left.
I stretched outside, submerging my body in the physical mentality.
Cool air—anticipating the rain and the almost-November
(and then Daniel came out of his apartment, and insecurity came rushing to attack the intruder of my solitude so I kept stretching until he left me)
…Alone.
No turning back.
I kept my footfalls gentle, pace slow:
 Tp tp tp tp tp.
The pavement was damp and I’m sure my footsteps were echoing somewhere.
 Innnnnnnnn (through the nose). Out (two three).
I kept breathing.
Tiny specks of water prickled my shoulders
Keep running.
Breath tightened. Heart Pounded.
Tp tp tp tp tp
My weakness began to burn.
So I walked
And noticed.
I’ve never felt so still while moving
Or so moved by slowing down.
The world paused with me, poised in thought and strolling by.
A gnarled fir tree suddenly felt like Christmas
(we don’t get those in Florida)
but it was time to reclaim my pace
tp tp tp tp tp tp
out-of-the-road-caution-car
(what if he stops and comes towards me?)
::shake the thought::
Keep running.
Tp tp tp…tp..…tp.
The garbage cans sparkled with raindrops
Garbage bins? beautiful?
One more sprint and I’m home!
Dust off the raindrops and curl up.

I love running, but next time I’ll probably forget.

My Lamentation

Preface:This came out as a completely honest prayer at the end of last semester and it's a lot easier to read now that things have worked out. But I'm posting this because I don't want to lose it--because I don't want to forget.

God,

It’s 7:20pm on a Sunday. I have two papers due tomorrow (one is a review and the other is a working table of exegetical notes) but the first hasn’t even been started and the second is far from finished.

My Bodies project is this week. Opens Thursday morning.  

I have to read all of Achebe by next week and write a 12-page exegetical paper (with a thesis) on Habakkuk.

Tax paperwork needs to be done like yesterday.

It’s a lot, I know. (and I know you know) but I was ok….I was managing and balancing. The bell curve of anxiety had reached a nice peak.

Until I crashed my car yesterday. Totaled it. As in, I almost died yesterday. I have no car—and it’s numb. The whole thing happened so fast: Swerve. Bang. Airbags. “I should hit the breaks”

I know it was just a car. I know that cars are replaceable and people are not. I’m thankful to be alive.

it’s just that…for the entire past month when I’d sit down to do finances, my great big consolation was “at least the cars are ok. As long as one of the cars don’t break down, we’ll be ok….”

And now? Gone.

Not broke.

                Gone.

I have an internship this summer with a 45 min commute each way. An 8,000 scholarshipped commute.

How the hell are we going to pay for this?? We can’t afford a new car. We can’t even afford to pay Matt’s 2,000 hospital bill! Not to mention professional clothes for the summer or a ticket to visit Josh when he’s home.

Insurance is going to go up. The tow company is going to have a bill. Insurance may not even reimburse anything….

God, I’m not usually a complainer (at least, I try not to be a complainer) but what the heck??!?!?! I can barely handle my normal schedule. I really, REALLY didn’t need this—not that I’m blaming you.

I just don’t know what to do.

Help? Please?

If nothing else, just help me get through these next few weeks.

Help me get through the rest of today. Give me the strength to focus on these papers—the strength to not worry.

We study Job and Lamentations for a reason.

Lord, hear my prayer.

What are you carrying in your heart?

Responsibility.
The word hovers heavily;
Looming over my actions and crafting my future.

Wife.
Daughter.
Pastor.
Student.
Professional.
Adult

Wake up early.
Clean the house.
Cook the food.
Do the reading
Feed your soul
Feel my sheep

This life is a balancing act--a double arabian--only to land clumsily on the thin beam of expectation; knowing all the while that it only takes one fall--one missed step--for it all to come tumbling down.

Joshua fought the battle of Jericho and the Lord said, "Do not fear."

What are you carrying?

I have a bag and a bag and a bag.

Repetition aside, I have a tote bag and a lunchbox and a purse.
(which is new because I’m not typically the purse type)

But I usually have a bag. Or a basket. Or (as in the case of my lunchbox) a bag full of bags.

I put my peach in a bag so that it wouldn’t squish peachy peach ooze all over my sandwich (a wich which is also carefully zipped away in plastic); my cheerios—nostalgic little nods to my childhood—are snug in their red-and-blue fresh seal bag; and my potatoes (yes, potatoes, plural) –the potatoes too are in their own little world of ziplocked happiness (a detail which, in retrospect, may have turned them a little).

I guess I like bags.

But it also means I hate being unprepared. Or empty.