Vision

"In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord..." Isaiah said (Isaiah 6).
Job, too, saw the Lord after a season of loss, illness and grief. "My ears had heard of you but now my eyes have seen you." (from Job 42)
The Apostle Paul, sentenced to isolation on the Isle of Patmos because he held onto the faith wrote, "I saw...the First and the Last...the Living One" (from Revelation 1).
And in the period following the year that a church tossed me out, I, too, was given a series of visions that only now am I beginning to understand. In hindsight, I see that God was there and He was loving me. That painful uprooting took me out of an unhealthy church and brought me into a vibrant, life giving support web built by believers under the guidance of an active Designer.
Now having been a participant in three healthy churches where people of faith fall on their knees before a holy God and arise completely changed, I see how God's church is supposed to work. In a God-centered church, God IS exalted. His vision, His message for individuals is not clouded by "Thou shall nots," condemnation, alienation, apathy or insensitivity to needs. Instead believers are led to the Word, led to seek God for themselves and allowed to be changed on God's time table according to their own unique need. They are allowed to serve in their own God-given, God-orchestrated way. And as each one changes, the entire system and each individual changes as well because we do indeed become like those with whom we hang out.
"To come before the presence of the Living God," Steve Chapman wrote, "is to be changed. You CANNOT come into His high and holy place and stay the same."
Pushing hard, digging deep, running long, seeing more questions than answers is hard. But it IS in those times that we, like Job, Paul and Isaiah, will see the Living Lord. And we all will be changed! God is SO very good. Sometimes we get to see it. Sometimes we see, in hindsight, that He was good when we didn't know it. And the rest of the time we just live by faith.
"So change us, Lord. Remake us, Lord, Conform us to the image of Your Son. So change us, Lord. Remake us, Lord, till Father, Spirit, Jesus, we are one" (Steve & Annie Chapman).

Savoring Lessons Gained During a 7-Miler

Yesterday's 5K training plan (provided by Runner's World and based on a timed 5K from a couple months ago) called for a 7-miler at a 14:12-minute-mile pace (the long distance "runs" include "liberal walking breaks"). I hoped for a 14-minute-mile pace or less, as I often think the training plan is a bit too moderate. And often times lately, I do beat the training plan.
But yesterday it was 88 degrees outside; the sun was beating bright and hard on the asphalt covered with minimal amounts of shade; my weekly mileage was already 11 miles (nearly 3x the 2-mile weeks I was doing in April, after the Achiles heel issue) and the hills were Virginia sized. A recent RW article stated that if you took a bike to the top of a hill, and then coasted down, the speed at which you ended the hill would approximate the degree of the hill. These then are easily 15-20 degrees. I started out attempting to maintain the same exertion level when running up as running down, thinking I might combine a hill workout with my endurance run--hoping I could take minimal walking breaks only on the levels. But then I took my first walk break near the end of the second mile, and realized I didn't have the strength to continue that pace. I tried running up, and walking fast downhill to recover. That was too much also, and I decided to just let my breathing or thirst level dictate the walking breaks.
Every now and then I would feel a surge of peace and comfort, like I often do when someone is praying for me. I had asked my new neighbor to watch the time, told her my route, and asked her to come looking for me if I took too long -- just in case. So I am sure she prayed some, but I also just knew she wasn't the only one. As I contemplated this thought, I understood the term "partnering in prayer" much more clearly. I KNOW I couldn't have done this without prayer support, and during the moments where prayer support seemed strongest, it seemed that I could almost feel someone's presence alongside me, like I wasn't alone after all.
And then I realized the importance of a multitude of prayer partners. No one can pray 24 hours a day for another person; life-stuff (the need for sleep, for example) gets in the way. But if a multitude of people commit to pray for someone, then others can take over when another stops -- similar to a relay race. I remembered reading something about relay races...when the baton is passed to another, it's done more by protocol, not by watching. The baton passer places the baton in position, and assumes the recipient will be in position to grab it. Partners in prayer, as they learn to hear God's voice and unction more clearly, also learn how to "be in position" to receive the prayer baton when God passes it to them. So prayer partners are actually joining a relay-prayer commitment on behalf of another. Just the excitement of that thought renewed my strength.
Near the end of mile three, and just before entering a series of down hills, I realized with great joy that I really was going to finish the day's goal. And while the effort was hard, it was bearable, not overwhelming or seemingly impossible. Joy-tears streamed down my face and I savored the emotion for the moment. But then, remembering the task ahead, I forced my focus back onto my feet and lungs, yet thankful for the gift of joy in the midst of an endurance pursuit. And the joy-moment and offering of thanks renewed my strength.
After reaching the turning around point, somewhere between miles four and five, a dog ran across the road. His tail was wagging, but he was barking and grabbed my ankle...with paws or teeth in play or with malicious intent, I am not sure. It didn't hurt and didn't break skin. I shook him off, and he took off across the road right smack in front of a car. Instinctively I surged to the left, up a grassy hill alongside the road. Afterward I wondered why. The dog was in danger, not me. Then I realized that, had the car swerved to avoid the dog, the driver might have lost control or hit me; and concentrating on that dog may have prevented the driver from seeing me. So heading for the hill was probably wise, but it also used up some energy stores that I would wish for later. I purposely slowed my pace, allowing my heart rate to return to an endurance-run rate. And that moment of taking control back, of adjusting to the circumstance, renewed my strength.
My legs turned into rubber at mile 6. Unlike previous runs where my legs kept going in spite of my inability to know what they were doing, the crazy things refused to move. It was like slogging through mud where the glop adheres to the shoes and makes your feet two or three pounds heavier. Only in this case my entire legs (not just the feet) felt like they weighed an additional five pounds. I climbed the next to the last hill, mostly walking, and then headed on another downhiller. Now in Gypsy Hill park, a loop added to make seven miles, I remembered my neighbor watching the clock. Yes, I could call her, but that would require admitting defeat. Instead, concentrating on her concern for me and avoiding needless worry, I pushed fairly hard on the downhill and on to the last hill. I tried so hard to run up it, but my legs refused. Once on the other side, however, I was able to run the last 3/4 mile -- all downhill. In these moments it was the knowledge of an accountability partner that rewewed my strength.
As I ran past the clock in the clock tower, 5 minutes past MY goal, I was disappointed for a second. Three years ago I ran 8 miles in 1:20; and this was a mile less and 15 minutes longer. But then I remembered the heat, the dog, and the hills -- a combination I didn't face when I ran the 8-mile stretch. And instead of beating myself up, I rejoiced in another victory. No, I didn't "beat the clock," but I DID beat a different set of obstacles. And savoring the victory renewed my strength for the last one-block surge.
As I neared my apartment building, a gentleman resting on a bench there said, "Just finishing a jog?"
I said, "Yup, 7 miles today."
And he said he, too, was wanting to run but unable as yet to push himself. I shared my faith, and what running meant to me. And he seemed encouraged, like maybe he would try a little harder. He spoke a bit about his faith, very weak at this time in his life, but increased a tad by my story.
"I do believe we met today by Divine Appointment today," he said.
Ahhh...and that's what ultimately makes running worth it, opportunities to use a God-given gift to bring God glory. And my strength was once again renewed for things besides just running.
It WAS indeed a VERY good run!

Blessed Runs

Every day is a gift and a blessing from God, though I often forget that until God reminds me...like he did several times over the last week.
I ran six miles last Saturday, stopping only to gulp down more water as it was hot (this is Virginia after all and it was about 80 degrees at 7:00 p.m., as I recall. And I can walk and drink, but I'm too uncoordinated to run and drink.) I felt well and was running well, up the steep hills to Gypsy Hill Park, three times around the track and up one more hill before home. About 2/3 of the way up that last hill, my legs went rubbery.
"Hmmm, well I'm not flat on my face so I must still be running," I thought. "It doesn't hurt, so they must be okay. Hmm, seems the legs know what they are supposed to do even if I don't know what they're doing. Guess I'll keep going."
And I did, doing 6 miles in 1:07:18 -- my last six mile run was Easter Sunday, March 27, 2005. And I thanked God.
Two days later, on Monday night I did a 5K in 34 minutes -- two minutes faster than the last record setter. I thanked God again. There's been immense improvement since that "Mind Over Matter" run where I forced myself to slog on. Apparently that's what I needed to do -- force myself through a psychological barrier.
Then last night I ran 1600 meter repeats on the college track at an original goal pace of 2:30 per lap. After a warm up mile under ten minutes, I upped my goal a tad. My fastest 1600 was 9:38. I was so pumped! And it felt good. But the real blessings poured in near the end of my workout.
A walker on the track repeatedly moved far right when he heard me come up so I "could have the inside track." On my third 1600 he shouted, "Aren't you close to 5 miles?"
Working hard I smiled and, between gasps for breath, said, "Almost".
While I gulped some water before my one mile cool-down, he stopped walking and gathered with a group of people taking a break on the opposite side of the track at a bench there. I began my one mile cool down, and then two laps before the end, he interrupted his chat with the group.
"You gotta be at 5 miles," he said.
I held up two fingers and said, "two laps."
I finished the cool down on the opposite side of the track from him, finished my water and headed toward home. He matched my pace on the opposite side and caught up to me at the end the track.
"You did great," he said. "That takes a lot of discipline, what you just did. I watched you -- you were timing yourself, pacing yourself. I am proud of you."
And I answered, "Thanks be to God. About ten years ago I was walking with a cane and never dreamed I'd really walk again, let alone run. And then I had a fall almost two years ago that set me back a bit. But God has healed my legs, healed deformed hands, and even let me run."
And he said, "And let you be a witness through your running. You do know your running IS a witness."
And then he started "preaching" -- working his way from Job through the New Testament. He's a parole officer who thought he would retire at 55, but "God had other plans. God wants us to question...not whine and moan, but He does want us to question because that's how we learn...Parents tell their kids to ask the teachers questions, but then when the kid questions the parents they get mad. Get mad at the attitude, I say, not the kids' questions....Folks say life is hard, and it can be. But our reactions don't have to be...It's the way we react to life that builds the future and our character."
"Exponentially," I said.
"Amen," he said and continued even more enthusiastically.
"When the women (I'm responsible for) tell me that their men have told them, 'You're nothing but a whore,' I tell them that the statement WAS meant for harm, meant to insult. But don't react. Turn that statement around and make it a complement....Just think. Your man thinks you still got it...No matter what the struggle, just keep on a going."
There was far more insight paralleling the disciplines of a runner with the discipline for maintaining good character, all interspersed with scripture. And was I ever pumped when he finished. His enthusiasm for life, for his work (his second job), for those for whom he's responsible, for his family, for His God --- all that enthusiasm poured out of Him and into me. His "first family," he said, is raised and on their own, but now he and his wife are raising a "second family" of kids he and his wife adopted ("They didn't have good parents," he said.) And one of those kids was the reason for him being at the track. He was watching one of those kids play ball on the field alongside the track.
I was getting cold, as the breeze on my sweaty self was too much and I hadn't brought a jacket (yesterday was much cooler than it's been for weeks). But I listened as long as I could and then during a break, I said, "Hey...thanks! you've been a real blessing to me and encouraged me a lot. Thank you so much!"
I am STILL pumped up today after that visit. I have had plenty of opportunties to share my faith when I run, but never thought that the very act of running itself might be an encouragement and a blessing to others; that my discipline, my pacing, my continuing on would be an encouragement to others. And THAT gives a whole new meaning to my runs.
And God wasn't done blessing me through the week's runs. I called my buddy Nelson (about my age) today at lunch; he's thinking about a mini-triathalon (I'm not sure of the technical term). He's an avid cyclist and swimmer; he ran track in high school, but hasn't run regularly since. If he does, it's usually sprints. That's what the running he likes. But he had already done a mile, mile and a half earlier in the week.
Today shortly after putting his cellphone earpiece in his ear, he asked, "Got your watch handy?" I grabbed it and he said, "Say 'Go."
"One, two, three, go!"
I could hear the slap of his feet hitting the track and the deep, but steady breathing of a runner.
"I think I started out too fast," he said.
"That's okay. Slow down till you catch your breath and then adjust your pace. It's just the excitement of knowing you're being timed," I said. Like life, I thought, running is all about pacing and adjusting the pace. Endurance running, staying steady over the long haul takes a whole different set of skills from a sprint. I was too quiet and Nelson, 9 hours away by car, said, "Keep talking...I can listen."
How was I supposed to maintain a conversation when, on the other end of the line, someone was on their way to a new victory? It was much easier to listen for steady breathing, a steady pace, to know my friend was doing okay. But without actually seeing him, I didn't know what to say, how to encourage. So I asked how it was going.
"2d lap, starting the third."
Whoa! Just 4 minutes had passed.
"Nelson, you're doing better than an 8 minute mile."
A couple minutes later, he said, "I don't have a kick"
"No matter...you're doing awesome." And then suddenly it was over, the first timed mile on a journey to a possible triathalon, and between 7:50 and 7:55 (Not bad for an "old man" new to running! I was so excited I missed his first "I'm done.")
And I was blessed again -- this time by someone else's victory and someone else's runs.
God is good! and sometimes we even get to see it. The rest of the time, we live by faith.

Progress....

The dress Eliza will wear for Sam's wedding is nearly finished now -- just ready for a few details and a hem. As with Maggie's, I did a lot of the lower sleeve work by hand. I didn't even try to do it on the machine, as I could see it wouldn't fit easily over the free arm.

I also started on the bride's dress today, and finished the bodice of that -- but I won't post a photo of that until after the wedding because we all know that the groom is sNOT upposed to see that until the wedding!

And I had a great run yesterday: 6 miles in 1:07:18. That's the farthest I've run this year, and that made for a 15-mile week.

Harry Potter Mania Descends on Staunton

I think she said that she is a "Moping Mirtle". (I know that's how she spelled "mirtle," which I thought would have been with a "y"). Anyway, according to "Moping Mirtle," the mirtles spend their time in the bathroom of the second floor concocting potions. (Obviously I haven't read the books, although I did see one movie.)
Batman claimed that he'll appear in the next Harry Potter book.
Actors on one side of a book store display window pose for passers by (including this fleeting wizard) on the other.

Mini Parade along Beverley

Scenes from a small parade down Beverley Street today - Shenandoah Valley Harley Davidsons (above).
The featured attraction Budweiser's Clydesdales (above & below)....how can any animal so big and strong, also look majestic and beautiful.

Dana

One of my best friends in Canandaigua was Dana Simon. She moved farther north and I saw her less often, and then I moved much farther south and...
Over the last couple weeks she had been on my mind especially strong, and I found myself praying for her often. Then last week I got an e-mail message from her sister saying that Dana was relatively fine (bruises) but that she had been in a car accident; somebody turned right smack in front of her. Both airbags deployed. Dana sent these photos in an e-mail today and said, "I think that the angels impersonated as air bags." From the photos it appears to me that this accident was what my sheriff-uncle called a T-bone, and in his pre-airbag days, he often said T-bones usually caused some nasty injuries. I think it's cause the body gets whipped twice
--from the side impact, and front and back as the car stops forward momentum. Well, I am sure thankful God protected Dana from serious injury.