Paradigms

I ran in long sleeves and long pants this a.m. Fall is here and winter is coming, which means another year is nearly over. Everyone is talking about how fast the year has gone, just like they do every year. It's amazing to me how some days can seem so incredibly long (like when I'm teaching for 12 hours straight) while, at the same time, a year seems to fly by. How can both be true? But life is full of paradoxes, of truths that seemingly contradict each other.

One of those truths has to do with faith. How can God be both of a God of love and grace, yet allow so much evil in the world. Why doesn't he intervene now and make things right? And yet every now and then, we see evidence of an opposing truth -- God really is still in control.

I just finished reading Heart for the Harvest: Stories of Vision, Faith, and Courage by Jeff Farmer and Andrea Johnson. One story that amazed me was that of a missionary couple who planted a church in India, yet somehow that church became totally disconnected from the Open Bible Church that had supported the missionaries. Years later, through a divine coincidence, an Indian pastor connected with Open Bible leaders. . .and the leaders learned that the single church plant in India had grown to 61 churches. Unseen by the mother denomination, the Open Bible movement in India had kept growing.

The book holds similar stories of leaders sacrificing for something they believed whether or not they saw results from their efforts. It also tells the rest of the story -- the stories of what happened after the years of sacrificial effort. And in so doing, Heart for the Harvest instills hope.

There is so much that we don't see. That is the essence of faith -- believing in spite of contradictions, believing in spite of what seems so obvious as we walk in blind faith, believing in spite of seemingly opposing paradigms. Sometimes we get a glimpse of God at work, as did the leaders of the Open Bible movement; the rest of the time we live by faith, knowing in our hearts that God really is working behind the scenes, even during the times when we can't see it.

Ponds of Fog as Seen from Afton Mountain

We were up before the sun for the Pepsi 10K this morning near Crozet. Took these photos from Afton Mountain.

Historic Tour

We're on day four of a historic tour, having seen Antietam, Williamsburg, Yorktown and Jamestown (settlement and historic). I've taken lots of photos, so many they can't be posted here. But they are visible on my facebook page: www.facebook.com/anieta.mccracken. When Butch and I return, I'll try to post at least a few of them. For now, however, perhaps you'd enjoy seeing a couple turkeys at least. (That's Butch on the left).

Road Trip

Butch and I are headed east -- first to Antietam for a five mile race tomorrow (Saturday). We're both hoping for a good finish, but facing reality as well. His calf is bothering him and I'm still struggling just to do three miles. Even a minor bout of pneumonia knocks the wind out of you -- literally!

After the race we're going to tour Jamestown, Yorktown, Williamsburg and Virginia Beach where we plan to do a little sight seeing, but mostly relax, rest and recover. I am so very tired.

We'll return in time for me to attend a meeting on Thursday, the official start of a new term at school. I'm not feeling prepared for that either as I'm teaching seven classes this term. I don't even have the books for one class yet, although that should be the easiest of the seven to teach. I have taught the class several times before; I'll just most likely be using new books. I have read all the other texts except for a criminal law class, which I'm taking with me. I should be able to finish it before Monday, the first day of class.

So prepared or not, the next term will come. And I wonder if a person ever really feels adequately prepared for the next project, term, responsibility? I think not. I think that's where faith comes in. We do all we can to keep some margin in our life and to prepare for tomorrow, but in reality we're never really prepared and have to just trust that everything will be okay somehow.

Dog Days 5K

Ran Gypsy's Hill Dog Days 5K yesterday. Before the race we looked at the records posted on the board. I was surprised to find my name among the top ten finishers in the 46 to 55 year category, having run the race in 26:16 last year and earning the distinction of being fifth in the list.

Instead of being excited as I should have been, I was immediately depressed because the post-pneumonia me can't run anywhere near that fast now. But I determined to savor the knowledge of having been a fifth place record holder, run the best I could today, and to just enjoy this year's race. Overall I'm getting better even though I had a second minor bout of pneumonia two weeks ago, just two days after getting a pneumonia vaccine.

Anyway I ran as well as I could. I was pleasantly surprised that the hill that used to beat me when I first started running the hills of Staunton no longer seemed daunting; I just raced right up it. I laughed to myself as I remembered the number of times I had walked that hill during training runs when I lived in Staunton.

I watched the time and hoped for a sub-30 minute run. I hit the finish line at 28:27 according to my watch. That's my best post-pneumonia 5K run time, so I was quite pleased.

Then came the awards ceremony and the calling of the 46-55 year old female winners. The third place winner had a slower time than me, as did the second place winner. It didn't sink in that I had won the age group until they called my name. The trophy is now sitting on the shelf with other running awards. Am I ever glad I didn't let discouragement dictate my race pace.

A visit to see the NY kids. . .

Sleeping in the Car. . .

Since the false prophets predicted sunny skies yesterday, I picked up my granddaughters and took them to Mauzy for a camp out. They helped pitch the tent, unload the car and organize our home for the night.

We always do everything the same way -- water jug on the end of the table, supply box on one bench, food and ice chest near the fire. And we always eat the same things -- salmon for supper, S'mores before bed, and scrambled eggs with cheese and hot chocolate for breakfast. Going camping with Grammie means those things are always the same.

After a swim the girls were hungry, so we opted to start supper even though it was only 4 p.m. I figured it would take a half hour to get the fire just right and another half hour to grill some salmon, one of our traditional campfire foods. At 5, an hour earlier than their usual supper time, we were fine dining on salmon and creamed corn when it started to rain.

"That doesn't sound very friendly," Eliza Grace said

Just as we finished and were headed toward the restrooms, a deluge hit. We waited the worst of it out under a tree, dashed for the pavilion, waited a bit there and then went on to the restroom.

The girls both said they were glad it wasn't like last year when hail pounded the glass skylights. We did our business and, when the rain slowed again, went back to camp to inspect the damage -- one soaked sleeping bag, one dry one lying on my sleeping pad, and one that was wet on one side. Thankfully the girls had brought extra clothes; unfortunately they had unloaded them all into the tent which now had quarter-inch deep puddles in it. Eliza Grace announced, "Well I guess we're sleeping in the car tonight." And then the girls began planning the rest of the evening -- a trip to the camp store, a hay ride (if they still had it), and a movie in the pavilion. So we went shopping and learned that the hay ride way off. We headed back to the campsite, where our fire was smoldering, added some more logs and started making S'mores. Just as the marshmallows were beginning to brown, it started raining hard again so we made a dash for the car. We pulled down the back of the seat (like a hatchback) and saw that we could all three lie flat -- feet in the tunk and heads on the seat backs. We crawled in and the girls played a drawing game while we waited for the rain to pass. Then we made S'mores in the drizzle. I loaded dry clothes into a grocery bag, added a toiletry bag and we went back to the restrooms for dry clothes. After that we watched the film at the pavilion, and then headed for bed -- in the back of the car.

I donned a rain poncho this morning and loaded the car while the girls drew and played inside. They were dry and didn't have rain gear, and I didn't want any more mud tracked in the car than was already there. I announced that we would still have our scrambled eggs and hot chocolate, but that we'd have them at my apartment in Broadway. They protested a tiny bit, but understood when I told them our wood was soaked and I'd end up cooking on the camp stove, which wouldn't really taste any different than if I cooked it at home. And, as it was still raining, we'd stay drier, which was important if we were to make it to church on time. Maggie stated that it ended up being a short campout and expressed a little frustration with the weather man who had not predicted the weather right, but she didn't pitch a fit. She just stated her opinion and adapted.

Later Anna Maria told me that Eliza drew a picture of compassion for her pastor, and chose a grandmother with her hand on a granddaughter's head. AM said it was a complement to me, a complement I didn't really deserve as I WAS feeling a bit grumpy about the weather until I saw their contentment and their willingness to make things work. And it really was beautiful outside -- a mist floating amongst the dark green of drenched trees. I checked my attitude and enjoyed the grandchildren.

As I reflected on the trip, it dawned on me that the girls hadn't complained once about the weather or the changes in plans. Basic tradition remained the same and that's all that mattered to them. They didn't mind being soaking wet, though Maggie was glad when I saw her shivering and got her a sweater. The girls' momma and dad let them play in the rain often, so this was nothing new to them. They just adapted and made things work. Their good attitude and creativity saved the camping trip, and I couldn't help but think about what good parents the kids have