Someone out there is having a great laugh at me. I will never make fun of my brother again... I will never make fun of my brother again... I got a little flyer for a race in the mail today... and the sick part is, I was tempted to train for it. Clearly the memories of my last adventure have faded a little TOO much...
I proudly keep a bib number in sight, my badge of honor from my last attempt. My pastor Wes thought it would be a real hoot for us interns to run this 12k Sound to Narrows thing with him. (12k=7.46 miles, for the "lay person"). I don't run. But that day I did. For at least three miles of that seven, I was a racing machine. Hey, a 1:45 finish is nothing to snicker at. Actually, it is, but the point is, I finished, and Lil finished, and ALL THE BOYS WUSSED OUT AND DIDN'T EVEN GO. I figured, hey, no pressure. No matter what, I've already beaten three people.
About halfway through the race, I wanted a bus to come hit me and put me out of my misery. I saw a lovely woodland squirrel sitting by his tree, and I HATED HIM IN MY HEART because I had to run and he didn't. Then there was an oldies cover band playing at the halfway point to motivate us. To me, there is nothing motivating about oldies music. I came close to hating them in my heart as well. Celebrate good times, indeed. Let's trade. I'll play guitar, and you can run this race, and then maybe we'll celebrate.
Nevertheless, I finished the race. And it was amazing the sense of accomplishment I felt. And the overwhelming sense of pain. (Lil and I both could barely move for four days... we mastered a less painful way of movement looking something like a cross between the funky chicken and the steps of a 100-year-old man). Wes, of course, looked no worse for his experience, but that is to be expected. Natural athletes inspire in me a bitterness that is difficult to put into words... :)
So we'll see what I decide to do. Crazy how there's actually a temptation to put myself in a place where I'm supposed to run. Again. Voluntarily. And pay $20 to do it. Bring on the pain!
OK I'm off... time to go see "The Notebook" with Jules & Amber & Brent. I'm wearing waterproof mascara and bringing 30 tissues. I've heard it's a doozie. Predictable? Probably. Sappy? For sure. Nothing better.
viernes, 23 de julio de 2004
jueves, 22 de julio de 2004
Confessions of a Flake
Lying on a beach in Maui recently, enjoying the solitude and slow pace, I had some time to think. I’d looked forward for months to the chance to not have to think about my job, my bills, my to-do-list. So I didn’t. Instead I chose lighter fare – thinking about my purpose, my calling, my life’s direction. What a most likely dumb and most certainly dangerous thing to do. During my mental ramblings I experienced a rare moment of clarity. It brought about simultaneous eruptions of both fear and anger, as I heard the familiar message unmistakably: you are moving (slightly) in the wrong direction. This is not what you were made to do.
Not again, God. I look like enough of a flake already. Not again.
My moment of clarity proved fleeting, as it touched off a plane ride and several days of confusion and, to tell the truth, just plain being ticked off. I’d sacrificed so much to follow a Voice I thought I heard so clearly... and now, all over again, it’s a mistake? Have I ever heard Your voice at all, or do I just jump from whim to whim, playing this stepping-out-in-faith card whenever it’s convenient to hush those who would question my wisdom and/or sanity?
I know that this won’t necessarily win me any Faith-filled-Christian-of-the-Year award or anything, but writing is my form of confession, so I’ll say it here: God’s hand is hard for me to see sometimes. His purposes are beyond me. That’s not to say I don’t believe they’re good, I’m just saying this - Most of the time, I’m a bit confused. And in my own day-to-day craziness, there are times that it’s a gut-wrenching exercise of my faith to believe that, despite my circumstances, God is at work in me.
Every time I decide that I’ve got a clue as to what God is doing– or more specifically, why it is that He’s doing it – something happens to completely shake those assumptions up. Case in point: my college career. Perhaps "career" is too generous a term for it. I think "dabbling in college" might be a more accurate portrayal. I am one of those people who, when someone asks where I’ve got to school and what I studied, it takes a good ten to fifteen minutes to explain all the moves back and forth and the choice-of-major switches.
Things seemed so solid seven years ago. What the heck happened? I graduated high school so sure of myself. Unshakeable. I envy myself back then - the surety, the confidence I felt that I KNEW THE PLAN GOD HAD FOR ME, all five easy steps of it. The plan didn’t include three colleges, eleven moves, a serious car accident, and a still-elusive B.A., however.
The past seven years since graduation has been quite a journey, filled with more questions than answers. The main question has been this: How do I know I am in God’s will? When I step out in a certain direction, fairly sure of God’s hand in it, and then it fails, what do I do with that? Does God call me to certain paths only to lead me to another path? Or am I, as I’ve long feared, an incurable tumbleweed? Has God called me to be a tumbleweed?
I think that might be part of my dilemma. When I think I’ve heard God’s voice, I tend to view it as a mandate for the rest of my life, when it’s more likely a path for a certain season. "Stacey, for the rest of your life, you’re going to be a ___________." Oh, good. I finally know what I’m going to do when I grow up. Now the wondering can stop. The seeking You can end. My self reliance can begin. Phew. Glad that’s over. See you at the finish line, God.
I keep forgetting something about God. While He is infinitely more concerned with my well-being than I am, He’s considerably less worried about it. God is not worried about whether or not I reach my ultimate goals. My sights have been set for far too long on the end of that five step plan, whereas His have been on how close we’ll get during the ride. My seeking Him is way more important than my knowing exactly which path to take and when. Although there is not much that I can say for sure, I know this: the uncertain, tentative, yet reckless woman that I am now is a bit closer to God’s heart than she was at the age of seventeen, grabbing her diploma with self-confidence and clear visions of the path ahead.
I think Thomas Merton had it right in his prayer in Thoughts in Solitude: "Just because I think I am doing Your will does not mean that I am actually doing it. But I believe that the desire to please You does in fact please You, and so I will trust You always, even though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will fear no evil, for You are ever with me, and You will never leave me to face my perils alone."
The more time goes on, the more I have a deeper awareness of my shakiness, my frailty. I used to crave the banishment of this constant reminder of my weakness, but more and more, I'm beginning to welcome it, even if the greeting is bittersweet. Facing my humanity squarely grants me the freedom to quit pretending I have it all together. I do not have to have the answers. I don't even have to have the right questions at this point. What I do have to have is a closeness with One whose strength doesn't waver, whose sense of direction is never off, and whose grace is big enough to cover each and every fumbling step along the way.
2 Corinthians 12:9 "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me.
Not again, God. I look like enough of a flake already. Not again.
My moment of clarity proved fleeting, as it touched off a plane ride and several days of confusion and, to tell the truth, just plain being ticked off. I’d sacrificed so much to follow a Voice I thought I heard so clearly... and now, all over again, it’s a mistake? Have I ever heard Your voice at all, or do I just jump from whim to whim, playing this stepping-out-in-faith card whenever it’s convenient to hush those who would question my wisdom and/or sanity?
I know that this won’t necessarily win me any Faith-filled-Christian-of-the-Year award or anything, but writing is my form of confession, so I’ll say it here: God’s hand is hard for me to see sometimes. His purposes are beyond me. That’s not to say I don’t believe they’re good, I’m just saying this - Most of the time, I’m a bit confused. And in my own day-to-day craziness, there are times that it’s a gut-wrenching exercise of my faith to believe that, despite my circumstances, God is at work in me.
Every time I decide that I’ve got a clue as to what God is doing– or more specifically, why it is that He’s doing it – something happens to completely shake those assumptions up. Case in point: my college career. Perhaps "career" is too generous a term for it. I think "dabbling in college" might be a more accurate portrayal. I am one of those people who, when someone asks where I’ve got to school and what I studied, it takes a good ten to fifteen minutes to explain all the moves back and forth and the choice-of-major switches.
Things seemed so solid seven years ago. What the heck happened? I graduated high school so sure of myself. Unshakeable. I envy myself back then - the surety, the confidence I felt that I KNEW THE PLAN GOD HAD FOR ME, all five easy steps of it. The plan didn’t include three colleges, eleven moves, a serious car accident, and a still-elusive B.A., however.
The past seven years since graduation has been quite a journey, filled with more questions than answers. The main question has been this: How do I know I am in God’s will? When I step out in a certain direction, fairly sure of God’s hand in it, and then it fails, what do I do with that? Does God call me to certain paths only to lead me to another path? Or am I, as I’ve long feared, an incurable tumbleweed? Has God called me to be a tumbleweed?
I think that might be part of my dilemma. When I think I’ve heard God’s voice, I tend to view it as a mandate for the rest of my life, when it’s more likely a path for a certain season. "Stacey, for the rest of your life, you’re going to be a ___________." Oh, good. I finally know what I’m going to do when I grow up. Now the wondering can stop. The seeking You can end. My self reliance can begin. Phew. Glad that’s over. See you at the finish line, God.
I keep forgetting something about God. While He is infinitely more concerned with my well-being than I am, He’s considerably less worried about it. God is not worried about whether or not I reach my ultimate goals. My sights have been set for far too long on the end of that five step plan, whereas His have been on how close we’ll get during the ride. My seeking Him is way more important than my knowing exactly which path to take and when. Although there is not much that I can say for sure, I know this: the uncertain, tentative, yet reckless woman that I am now is a bit closer to God’s heart than she was at the age of seventeen, grabbing her diploma with self-confidence and clear visions of the path ahead.
I think Thomas Merton had it right in his prayer in Thoughts in Solitude: "Just because I think I am doing Your will does not mean that I am actually doing it. But I believe that the desire to please You does in fact please You, and so I will trust You always, even though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will fear no evil, for You are ever with me, and You will never leave me to face my perils alone."
The more time goes on, the more I have a deeper awareness of my shakiness, my frailty. I used to crave the banishment of this constant reminder of my weakness, but more and more, I'm beginning to welcome it, even if the greeting is bittersweet. Facing my humanity squarely grants me the freedom to quit pretending I have it all together. I do not have to have the answers. I don't even have to have the right questions at this point. What I do have to have is a closeness with One whose strength doesn't waver, whose sense of direction is never off, and whose grace is big enough to cover each and every fumbling step along the way.
2 Corinthians 12:9 "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me.
Diary of an Old Soul
Was reading this again... man, it's good stuff. Just passing it along...
5.15
Afresh I seek thee. Lead me — once more I pray —
Even should it be against my will, thy way.
Let me not feel thee foreign any hour,
Or shrink from thee as an estranged power.
Through doubt, through faith, through bliss, through
stark dismay,
Through sunshine, wind, or snow, or fog, or shower,
Draw me to thee who art my only day.
5.21
But he who would be born again indeed,
Must wake his soul unnumbered times a day.
And urge himself to life with holy greed;
Now ope his bosom to the wind's free play;
And now, with patience forceful, lie still,
Submiss and ready to the making will,
Athirst and empty, for God's breath to fill.
GEORGE MacDONALD
5.15
Afresh I seek thee. Lead me — once more I pray —
Even should it be against my will, thy way.
Let me not feel thee foreign any hour,
Or shrink from thee as an estranged power.
Through doubt, through faith, through bliss, through
stark dismay,
Through sunshine, wind, or snow, or fog, or shower,
Draw me to thee who art my only day.
5.21
But he who would be born again indeed,
Must wake his soul unnumbered times a day.
And urge himself to life with holy greed;
Now ope his bosom to the wind's free play;
And now, with patience forceful, lie still,
Submiss and ready to the making will,
Athirst and empty, for God's breath to fill.
GEORGE MacDONALD
Correction...
Kevin says that if I am going to make fun of him, I at least can get my facts straight. He ran five miles.
Kev, you are a true inspiration.
I laugh, but the truth is, I CAN'T RUN THAT FAR. So the joke is on me and my lame, I would bleed from the ears if I ran that far, self.
Kev, you are a true inspiration.
I laugh, but the truth is, I CAN'T RUN THAT FAR. So the joke is on me and my lame, I would bleed from the ears if I ran that far, self.
Perfect weather for a run...
My brother, Kevin. Kevo. O'Rich. O'Stupid.
(Normally, smart kid. Today wasn't his day, however.)
PROLOGUE: It's approximately seven hundred degrees outside. OK, maybe more like ninety. But it's stinkin' hot.
Speaking of which, I need a chocolate ice cream Reese's blizzard, pronto.
ANYWAY: I get home at lunch, and a few minutes after I'm home, Kevin stumbles in the door. At this point, he redefines the word "scarlet". You could also use him as an example of "sweating-like-a-pig". (I've always wondered... how much DO pigs actually sweat? Never having been in close proximity to pigs, I don't know. But I digress...) Poor guy looked like he would either (a) explode, (b) begin bleeding from his ears, (c) die of heat stroke, or (d) die of heat stroke.
THE OBVIOUS QUESTION: What the heck is wrong with you?
THE ANSWER: "Oh, I thought to myself, it's blistering hot outside, and there's nothing more refreshing than attempting to run four miles out in the sweltering heat of the noontime sun." That wasn't actually his answer. I can't remember what he said. I was too dumbfounded... in absolute awe of the fact that my brother was this color. Literally.
NOT THE BRIGHTEST PENCIL IN THE FRYING PAN.
Speaking of suicide-inspiring heat, (just kidding), Mom is pretty good to us. (Cue trumpet fan-fare): We now have a second fan for our third-story apartment! I won't have to sleep out on our deck (not kidding) on top of a sleeping bag! LOVE YOU MA.
(Normally, smart kid. Today wasn't his day, however.)
PROLOGUE: It's approximately seven hundred degrees outside. OK, maybe more like ninety. But it's stinkin' hot.
Speaking of which, I need a chocolate ice cream Reese's blizzard, pronto.
ANYWAY: I get home at lunch, and a few minutes after I'm home, Kevin stumbles in the door. At this point, he redefines the word "scarlet". You could also use him as an example of "sweating-like-a-pig". (I've always wondered... how much DO pigs actually sweat? Never having been in close proximity to pigs, I don't know. But I digress...) Poor guy looked like he would either (a) explode, (b) begin bleeding from his ears, (c) die of heat stroke, or (d) die of heat stroke.
THE OBVIOUS QUESTION: What the heck is wrong with you?
THE ANSWER: "Oh, I thought to myself, it's blistering hot outside, and there's nothing more refreshing than attempting to run four miles out in the sweltering heat of the noontime sun." That wasn't actually his answer. I can't remember what he said. I was too dumbfounded... in absolute awe of the fact that my brother was this color. Literally.
NOT THE BRIGHTEST PENCIL IN THE FRYING PAN.
Speaking of suicide-inspiring heat, (just kidding), Mom is pretty good to us. (Cue trumpet fan-fare): We now have a second fan for our third-story apartment! I won't have to sleep out on our deck (not kidding) on top of a sleeping bag! LOVE YOU MA.
"I'm sure you already know this, but she's not the brightest pencil..."
Best thing I've heard today. Nothing like a little bit of this metaphor, a little bit of that one... NOT THE BRIGHTEST PENCIL... Wow. I don't know if anything can top it. But, then again, it's only noon.
miércoles, 21 de julio de 2004
Who-o-oa... Amber is the color of your energy...
This is me and my other favorite part of the Gibbs family, first night at camp before camp hair and the I've-had-no-sleep-all-week zombie eyes kicked in. We had a great time goofing off as usual. Some people just have the gift of sunshine, this girl definitely does. Plus, she looks dang good in her trucker hat.
Amy & Stace
This is my beautiful friend Amy (first comment poster, thanks) the night before she left for Australia (and, coincidentally, the night before her house burned down. The newspaper photo showed flames shooting out the window from the couch behind us...Life is strange.)
Amy in Australia!
Amy's making new friends Down Under... (He knows what you sent Neilie-boy as a present, Amy... and he is NOT HAPPY...)
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