"ROCK CLIMBING IS A LOT LIKE LIFE, PART 1"

"Every day I am ready for the funeral."-Band of Horses

"I have come that they might have life and have it to the full."-John 10:10 (NIV)

(*As I sat to write this, I realized that in actuality, it’s probably a three-parter. Hopefully, my huge readership of four will read each part—it will all make sense, promise! ‘Just don’t want to bore anyone with my long-winded nature;-). Part One is most definitely faith-based. I pray though, not heavy-handed or proselytizing in nature, and worth the read. As always, thank you so much for taking the time to read my thoughts)

I've had many more frequent periods of "alone time" recently than I'd like to admit...This, of course causes me a tremendous amount of introspection in a mind that already thinks far too much/ too hard about every possible thing. And, as a writer, I begin to see hidden or deeper meaning/symbolism/ metaphors and analogies in all around me...I began to re-chew over the former quote from one of my all-time favorite songs--the sentiment of "living each day as if it's your last," and know that I firmly believe in this, as do many of the people whom I love. But, how many of us actually live this out on a daily, or even weekly or yearly basis? How many necessary conversations or risks or adventures or truthful sharing of feelings or "taking the plunge" in personal or professional life in ways that will be so life-enriching and worth it (yet still scary as hell) are left locked in that shuttered-up and horrifically terrifying Room of Vulnerability in the recesses of our hearts?

And then the latter--always one of my favorite verses, the quote from that cool Jesus of Nazareth that began the melt of my heart....that resonated from deep within me and that I knew, after my first read, if this guy, this God was real, I wanted--no, needed, to follow Him. I met with a friend a couple of weeks ago who referenced this verse, and what it truly means--to follow Jesus is to live a FULL life. A full life is not one that simply includes adventure and success and love and "blessing". A full life is a life that is visceral-- stripped down at times, bleeding internally in ways that one feels he or she cannot bear...Full of love and adventure, yes. But, full of periods of heartache and loneliness and rock bottoms and moments of true doubt and confusion as well…A life that is "sucked to the marrow". And, I realized that as much as this verse is a well-worn "life motto" for me, I resist that hard full stuff. I'm all for experiencing life, and knowing myself, and loving others, and living an adventurous story, but I've been through the hard stuff--it's like choosing to take a road trip through Kansas after already experiencing that pain on several occasions, and knowing how much I hate the mind-numbing boredom, plentiful fleets o' speed traps, and the rancid scent of cow poop, but still choosing to "embrace it" again. I'm good, thanks!

 I think this is what a "full" life really is, though--experiencing the grief and heartache without compartmentalizing, without turning away—allowing the tears and the rending pain, but allowing Joy to shine through those tears…using those tears to help others…using those tears to break down your own walls, and letting you go “all in” in love and friendship and life in general. I fail miserably at this…I am thankful for this past year, because I can see my wrongs, my Sin in every situation. We all fall and flounder—we will all let each other down (even those who are most important to us/ especially those who are most important to us)—and I have begun to see how my insecurities and my overwhelming fear of abandonment make it difficult to fully accept the blessing of those who love me. My walls don’t keep those fears from coming to fruition—they might even cause them. It’s a hard pill to swallow, and I am working on this.

  As many previous posts allude to, the past ten months of my life have not been my most favorite—the whammies and the hurts have mostly been blindsiding and have been wholly out of my control. The good moments and times are beyond articulation, but they melt away more quickly…slip like quicksand into the past before I am ready to let them go. The difference though, between this and other hard times, is that I finally love…gulp, me. Due to a U-Haul of baggage and tender, if not healing scars, I couldn’t fully do this for a very long time…I accept the numerous flaws and weaknesses that pepper my personality, and while I still strive to change these things, I can still love me, because my God loves me. “On My Worst Day”, when I am selfish and self-serving, when I am weak and not fun, when everyone else runs away, my God LOVES me.  I know who I am, and, for the most part? I kinda wanna keep her around.

Thus far, this has f*$*ing nothing to do with climbing, and isn’t even really centered on a story or an event in the way that my posts usually evolve. But, when I sat down to write, this is what poured out. Again, as I hide behind this blog, self-confessional becomes easier, and tends to come out whether I want it to or not. I just hope that it helps someone other than me. Thank you for reading, and the “climbing as life”? I’m getting there, promise.

 

WHAT I'VE LEARNED IN 2013

"Hold on to what you believe, in the night, when the darkness has robbed you of all your sight."-"Hold on to What You Believe"-Mumford & Sons

"Just keep swimming, just keep swimming. Wait, what do we do? Just keep swimming. Just keep swimming."-"Finding Nemo"

"'I wish I had a million dollars!...Hot dog!'"- George Bailey in "It's A Wonderful Life" 

It's been awhile since I've posted, and reflecting back on this year, I realize that I've learned a lot. I AM wordy/ a huge chatter...I can't help it:-)--it's who I am. But, I'm never boring, and I always listen (if you casually tell me a story about your first grade teacher, Mrs. Appleby, I'll remember her name ten years from now--if there's an embarrassing "poop" story shared, I'll remember that forever as well. 'Don't know if this is a strength, or a weird weakness, but it's true!)... Love it or hate it, that is Sarah Paris. And I've realized much about that too--who I am, I mean. I know, and am finally okay, with...me. That took years (30+, in fact), but regardless of whether I am "up" or "down" in this life, I won't change or compromise what makes up...me. (Constantly working on the flaws though...and, yup--totally aware of each and every one of them:-))

All that said, the glaring difference between 2012 and 2013 in my life is...well, glaring. 2012 was not without its sucky or painful moments, but that's just life. However, for me, it was choc full of adventure, promise, and the beginnings of fruition. I learned and grew immensely, I traveled and met a plethora of amazing, fun, and "good" people whom I hope to carry with me for a lifetime, and I felt confident in each step that I took. 2013 began in a similar fashion, but all that I thought I knew I was stepping toward seemed to continually fall apart in a bloody, rancid way. My problems are never of the silly "What a day...my boss yelled at me and I had a flat tire" variety, nor are they of the horrific "I am a persecuted follower of God living in Afghanistan/ After my family was slaughtered, I was forced to become a child soldier in the Sudan, but I still keep hope and faith alive" ilk. I try to maintain perspective, and typically can do a good job at such, and I am acutely aware that I have much to be thankful and grateful for, but the moments where I want to collapse under the weight of things...the moments of doubt, confusion, wrenching heartache, and a dull, panicked uncertainty about many areas of life...they occurred with a higher rate of frequency in 2013 than ever before. However, 2012 and 2013 hold equal importance in my story, and in my life. As a note to 2014, though--if you could be more like your cool, fun, and funny older brother, '12, and far less similar to your bitchy, judgmental middle sister, '13, that would be awesome. Thanks.

It's been a year since I began this blog, and as much as the funny, sarcastic, and light stories that I envisioned sharing have been enveloped with honest and raw self-confessionals (and that was a surprising and hard turn for me), I know that I've done the right thing. Each time I've shared, it is because I felt strongly that I was supposed to do so. Thanks to all of you who've faithfully read my posts to their bitter ends--again, I know they are of a daunting length at times. And, I truly hope that I've helped at least one other person through my writings. 

Thus, in no particular order, I thought I'd share a list of things I've learned this year...If you've read this far, you're amazing--thank you! And, might as well stick it out to the bitter end;-)...

12. I still laugh so hard that I cry at the same type of things that would split my sides at 16--and I hope this never changes.

11. I yearn to continue to live an "adventure"--I don't ever want boredom, safety, "stuff", and routine to eclipse wonder, awe, connection with others, and eye-opening, life-changing moments.

10. Pretense, Judgmentalism, Deception, and Phoniness are the ugliest, most insecure personality traits--and as much as people who possess these traits need compassion and love, I have no time for them. And I think they're toxic. Be who you truly are!!!

9. Doing the "right" thing and taking the "right" steps may not always produce immediate results, and may produce excruciating pain, but this does not make these situations any less "right".

8. "To live without taking risks is to risk not living" (Brennan Manning)--I WILL fall and fail (be it in minisicule or "gynormous, horr-ee-blay" ways) @ least once every day. Paradoxically, as a child of God, I finally understand that I will never be loved more or less than I am at this moment--the full, unconditional embrace of God & the bottomless sea of Grace that He offers remain regardless of what I've done or what's been done to me, and I can never, ever do anything to deserve it or lose it. This is slowly but surely transforming me in my relationships as well. I need to let go of my expectations of others, and love those in my life in a new, deeper, more authentic, more vulnerable, and more honest way.

7. I would rather try and face rejection and failure a million times than live with regrets--in any aspect of life.

6. Vodka, Guinness, and Jaegermeister are wonderful creations. And delicious. And full of vitamins. And not fattening. And I love them. ('Just wanted to see if you're still reading;-))

5. I am called to RISK relationally--to force myself to not wall up. Or shut down. Or push. Or sabotage. Or run away....Even when that's all I want to do--especially if that's all I want to do. Investment is just that--giving of one's self to others at the risk of hurt, betrayal, dishonesty, rejection, etc....I hope that there are at least five people in my life who know that they "can count on me" if they're in need. A surface, disconnected, masked, unshared life is no life at all.

4. After leaving Los Angeles, everything seems inexpensive, and traffic never sucks. And, it takes approx. 7 months to rid one of the annoying "Yeah, Yeah, yeah" L.A. lingo. And, at least 2 months to realize that not everyone in the world is as passionate about/ moved by films as you are...

3. ...Having at least one person in your life who laughs at the same things you do, enjoys the same activities, loves the same films, is annoyed by the same situations and people...is something to be cherished and thankful for...Even if you don't see him/her often...even if there are fractures in the relationship...the latter are a fair trade for the former.

2. Open communication and loving honesty are the keys to success in ANY kind of relationship (family, love, friendship, professional relationships)--with these things, any issues or hurdles are surmountable...sans these things, there will always be struggle.

1. Fun can be had anywhere...at any time...and is just as vital as the deep, profound moments of Life.    

Thanks for reading.  And, Merry Christmas!

"For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels or demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation can separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."-Romans 8:38-39 (NIV)

LOVE LIKE A WATERFALL

“We’re still funny, talented, insightful, but this recording is playing in our heads: What happened? Why am I unknown, lonely, and lost? Why hasn’t this worked out the way I imagined? So we dig our own trenches & face increasingly complicated life issues alone. We may meet in small groups, but it’s more play acting than authenticity. We show cracks in measures, with little intention of allowing anyone to help fill them. Not again. That hurt too much. Not again… (But) what if it was less important that anything ever gets fixed than that nothing has to be hidden?” –“The Cure” John Lynch, Bruce McNicol, & Bill Thrall

“When you are loved, you no longer fear change nor are you afraid to change. When you love you are willing to embrace the sacrifice of change and make the sacrifices to change. When you live a life of love, you are not bound to who you are but to who you will become. Love transforms…Take time to invest in the people who are in your life. Slow down if you have to, and bring them with you. It is better to adjust your pace than to walk alone. A life well lived isn’t about who walks the fastest but about who has the most people walking with them….so invest well….Invest your life in people, and you will begin to build for yourself a relational net that catches you when you fall and picks you up when you’re no longer strong enough to walk by yourself. You were never meant to walk alone.”

-“Wide Awake” Erwin McManus

“A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another.”-John 13:34 (NIV)

Although I typically post on this blog once every two weeks, I have been resoundingly silent and wordless for going on over two months now.  There is an ocean of reasons for this—but it is not worth plunging into those depths… However, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it is time. And I know that while I am the furthest thing from an expert on love and relationships, this is what I am supposed to share with you. This one is looong—please bear with me!

As always, I am discovering truths as I process and find artistic ways to articulate them. Thanks ahead of time for reading the “unpacking” of this messy and haphazard suitcase.

For most of my adulthood, I have believed that relationships are the most important thing in Life—that truly investing in and committing to friends and romantic partners is the only way to authentically engage with Life…that to make a lasting, positive impact on another is the only way to “live a good Life”, and within the confines of my personal faith, is the way that one can truly exude Christ…So how can I gingerly walk backward on my path—even in steps recently taken—and find my feet bloodied by the sharp and painful shards of broken friendships? Why, after guarding my heart so fiercely, do mangled pieces of said heart hang from the tree branches of heartbreak and broken romance? And what does this mean in terms of how I should live Life in healing and in the amazing rich and deep engagement with Life that Love offers?

…I went through a period in my late 20s & the slivers of the dawn of my 30s when I consciously chose not to let anyone new in. I began this path o’ engagement with Life with a sprint, but that meandered to a crawl when I found that many of my friendships with those whom I was “walking with” & the times that I had tentatively and then fully entrusted my heart romantically resulted in a horrific and disfiguring crash. My heart was bruised to the point that it sent sharp pain into my soul any time it was seen or touched by another. What I failed to realize, however, is that this is true for almost anyone who is authentically engaged with Life…who has opened up in complete honesty, and depth, and vulnerability with others.  And, I was so lonely. This “numbing” of my feelings, emotions, and investments led to a “fun, carefree, & surface mask” that I wore for so long that I did not know how to even begin to expunge the internal broken places, how to truly be vulnerable without shame. Although I made myself available to others, I did not share my own heart. Thus, I felt so very disconnected.

Love is painful. As the amazing 80s hair band Nazareth so aptly put it, “Love Hurts”. Imperfect love shared with imperfect humans will create imperfect relationships. Some of these investments will be worth the risk, the hurt, the uncertainty—as both people are fully committed to honesty, vulnerability, and the work of love.  In these relationships, as we traverse the hard spots of the path together, we will stumble upon thorny bushes of past hurts and insecurities. But, together, we will work on the painful process of de-thorning and trimming back the overgrowth. Yes, this takes work.  Real love often does.

And, there are others who will not treasure or protect our hearts—whether they are stuck in the woundedness of their own paths, or have overlooked our deepest heart offerings, they will not remain committed to journeying down this path with us—they will shield their own hearts, run away, and drop ours in the process…BUT—and here’s where the real crazy comes in—we continue to love in spite of this. I finally understand that love outweighs the rejection and pain.

When I shut down, or project fears and past hurts…when I place expectations on others or refuse to make the scary and vulnerable commitment to explore love and invest, I am NOT shielding myself from hurt. I am not free. I am drowning in a sea of hurt and fear, and am missing out on the great, life-giving breath that love offers.

As I reflect on what I’ve written before, I realize that the fingerprints of past posts are all over this—without realizing it, thematically this is perhaps exactly what I am called to write about (I can be damned funny, though! I swear!)—possibly freeing up myself and others through the process.

And so, I want to “unpack” the rest of this well-worn trunk of luggage here, because I am convinced that when we walk in the true light of what God’s Love is, and thus, illuminate our love for others, we will find ourselves in a deep, unmasked, beautiful, messy Life. I want to share what I think I’ve discovered love is, and what it is most definitely not.

As a follower of Christ, I am taught that His greatest commandment is Love—that I am to love others as He has loved me…And how has He loved me? He has promised that He will never, ever leave me—that regardless of how deeply I dive down the well of failure and sin, even as I focus my eyes on the utter darkness of that well bottom and forget about the light above, His love for me never changes. Whether I am hopeful & healthy & focused on Him & others or I turn inwardly and refuse to deal with difficulties head on. If I turn to things that will numb me or allow me to compartmentalize rather than turn to the painful cauterization of Grace which will confront the hurt and then take it away…whether I say “No thanks, God. I’m fine on my own”, or I shake my fists in anger and disappointment…if I take all of the credit for triumphs and wittingly enter into situations of which He is not a part of…He promises that NOTHING can separate me from His love—not amazing circumstances or crappy, bleak ones…Not doubt or confusion...Not wealth or poverty, not addiction or sobriety. Nothing.

He says that His love for me is engraved on the palms of His hands. Wow. So how does this translate to how I love those whom I’ve invested in—whether I am loved back or not? Does it mean that every person in my Life should know my deepest struggles, my most painful memories, and my most tender parts? No--because He also tells me that my heart is the wellspring of life and that I should guard it above all else.

So what in the world does it mean? It means that when I feel drawn toward others, when a friend or a guy with whom I am romantically involved reaches toward my heart, that although I should reveal it slowly and with discernment, I cannot approach these situations with the expectation of being stomped on, or of acting as the stomper. I can’t say, “Well, I’ve been hurt tremendously in the past, so I will wear that hurt as protective armor”. I can’t expect these people to act a certain way or to do certain things because they’ve reached out. And, I can’t place those expectations on myself either. They set me up for failure, and cause me to Lord my wounded heart over the head of the other person.

As I reach toward the heart of others, it means that I cannot go into a friendship or romantic relationship saying, “Well, I suck at relationships, so be prepared”. It means that if these people choose to be vulnerable with me or to share their struggles with me, I will be committed to walking with them through these things. It means that I cannot force them to share or draw close. It means loving them just as they are, right where they are—and not basing this choice/ commitment on whether or not they’re doing well—I am not called to “save” or “fix” anyone. It means reaching out to the darkest places and people with obvious struggles and saying, “I know that you’re struggling behind that mask. I am here if and when you decide you need me.” And, the most painful part to swallow—this means offering that love whether it is rejected or not.

If the people whom I selectively enter into this realm of authenticity with choose to back away or not reciprocate or climb back to the surface and refuse to re-plunge to the depths…even if they choose to cut me out entirely, it means that although I still offer this love, I should be slow and discerning in terms of trusting them again. It means that I should not throw my heart at them or base my self-worth on their reactions. It means that once I’ve offered this, I cannot rescind the offer based on their reactions. It means that on any level, in any aspect of Life, I must choose NOT to live reactively. It means that I do not continue to reach out once rejected, but that I will forgive and move on.

Within my community of peeps collectively on the same path, it means that I shoulder the responsibility of doing everything in my power to heal broken relationships—I am actually called to remain invested and committed with these people…which kind of pisses me offJ. It means that if I do find “true love”, I remain fully committed to that guy in terms of the work that pays off in dividends—even when it is the most horrifying thing in the world.

Conversely, love does NOT mean “being nice” or ignoring issues rather than confronting them head on. It does not mean uttering the words “I love you” in the same light fashion as “Gasundheit”—it means that this phrase should always carry weight.  It does not mean fully opening yourself up to those whom have already proven themselves untrustworthy.

Love requires the willingness to go deep down in the trenches with others. Love requires passion. Love requires intentional investment. Love requires risk. Love requires action.

In light of this knowledge, will I be hurt again? Most definitely, resoundingly, sickeningly “yes”. Will I lose more people along the way? In terms of everything within my power to affect this outcome, “no”… but probably “yes”. Will my heart re-break when I invest romantically again without that paying off long term? I hope not, but therein lies the rub—love is always risky, and always messy.

However, I’ve discovered that a Life without this conscious, active commitment to invest in others, a Life sans openness of the heart, is no Life at all. And so, I will love like a waterfall, and not like a filtered faucet or a watering can. I will love without letting expectations or battle wounds get in the way. I will not let my past or the past of those whom I love dictate the future. I will not let fear of rejection prevent me from the amazing unfolding of shared vulnerability. I will let those whom I love know that I am in it for the long haul, but that they need to receive this—I will not push myself on anyone.

And, in the much more succinct words of Mumford & Sons, I will love with urgency but not with haste.

I hope my longwinded words are not full of sanctimony or saccharine. And above all else, I hope that there is something within my confessional struggles that can shed a bit of light for others. As always (but especially after this chunk o’ thoughts), thanks for reading. 

WILDFIRES, MOUNTAINS OF GATORADE, AND COMMUNITY

"HEARTS' KEEP: WHATEVER STORMS YOU SHALL PASS THROUGH IN THIS LIFE, I WILL SHELTER YOU." -Untarnished plaque seen in the ruins of a home on Courtney Drive after the Waldo Canyon fire, June 2012.

 (View of the Black Forest Fire from RockRimmon and Woodmen Roads, 10.9 miles West, 5 p.m., June 11, 2013)

On June 26, 2012, in Colorado Springs, CO, the unthinkable happened. A raging wildfire that began in Waldo Canyon four days earlier, jumped the Douglas fir, cedar, and evergreen-lined ridge separating it from the city, and spewed it's venomous crimson flames into the Northwestern neighborhood of Mountain Shadows. In the fury of its wake, the Waldo Canyon Fire left 347 families homeless, a landmark restaurant and ranch in ruins, and cost a septuagenarian couple, Bill and Barb Everett, their lives.  A popular destination for hikers, runners, and tourists yearning to drink in the wilderness of Colorado, one year later, Waldo Canyon is still not open to the public. Although those directly impacted by its destruction have begun to rebuild, and have, in the midst of grief, found the strength to move forward, the charred remains of timberlines, the vacant home lots, the plethora of new homes in various states of construction--each allow any passerby a reminder that the scars from this disaster run deep. Those scars heal, but will always show off their proud "war wound" status in the landscapes, and in the hearts of those who lost memories and all material possessions. 

The second largest city in Colorado, Colorado Springs had never experienced anything like this. Collectively, it's citizens reeled from the heartbreak, and rallied together to provide an outpouring of support for the victims. Although we understood the facts--that Colorado experiences severely dry weather in its summer months, and wildfires can ignite in a split second, we prayed for healing, and we prayed that this tragedy would serve as a reminder that we are not in control. We prayed that we'd remember perspective, and that we'd never undergo a collective natural disaster again in our lifetimes. Life began to move along again, as it has the annoying tendency of doing, and we experienced the joy and heartache, mourning and rejoicing that does not halt despite the purging and scorching of the land.

But, fifty weeks later, as the city prepared to both celebrate and mourn on the one year anniversary, it happened again.  The Black Forest Fire, in the Northeast corridor, sparked on June 11, 2013--an otherwise pleasant, sun-baked Tuesday afternoon. As I spotted the smoke more than ten miles from the ignition site, and breathed in acrid air for the second time in less than a year, I knew that the outcome would be grim. Today, one week later, the fire stands at 65% containment--our firefighters, and those from companies in other states, battled fearlessly to gain ground, and it seems that they've managed to beat this beast back--the once 300 foot blazes now whimpering, smoldering "hot spots". However...15, 000 acres serve as blackened and smoky reminders of a chaotic week. 502 homes (in the latest count) have burned to the ground--their structures eradicated, but the memories and security they provided to their residents linger like storm clouds in the singed atmosphere. Over 41,000 citizens were uprooted from their day to day existences in a mandatory evacuation zone. And two lives--lives that impacted countless around them, lives of which the details are still undisclosed--were tragically lost.

Although my family lost our home to arson when I was six, I cannot even begin to fathom what the 850 families rendered homeless by these events (and those with homes still standing-- left to pick up the pieces of their neighborhoods and their lives) are experiencing. But as a part of this city, as a part of this community, I am in awe at the optimism expressed by many victims and my heart hurts for those left utterly broken by what has occurred--the days and weeks and months ahead will no doubt contain many mountains and valleys for all affected. And, as I process through what this means for the city that I love, the place that is "home" for me above any other, I discover a few things that I want to share....

                                                      *MOUNTAINS OF GATORADE*                                                     

I left Colorado Springs to live and work in Los Angeles in the early aftermath of the Waldo Canyon Fire, and returned only a couple of weeks before the Black Forest Fire. I'm not sure what the significance of this is, but I feel that it is important for me to be here--to help and comfort others, but also to learn vital lessons and go through painful refinement in my own life.  My own struggles and issues, while valid, are so very minuscule compared to the chaos surrounding me. And as I began to question whether God or my own volition had "called me back", as doors I tried to enter remained shut and padlocked, I stopped in frustration...And then I smelled smoke.  

I took my eyes off of my own bulky and tarnished trunk of baggage, and as soon I was able, headed out to volunteer to help.  This is not an entirely altruistic or Godly action on my part--I was bored and depressed, my crystal clear vision of Life felt cloudy and confused, and I wanted to do...something that had nothing to do with me--I was getting on my own nerves. I'd spent too much time by myself over the previous two weeks, and I needed a break. I wanted to feel as though I was, in a small way, helping to diffuse the enormous pain and tragedy. I wanted to feel as though my God truly had a purpose in all of this, on a large scale, but also as though He had a specific purpose for me, as an individual, in the campfire clouds of my city.

I headed to our local (and as far as I know, only) food bank, Care and Share, where I was assigned to a loading bay, and began to carry and then sort the groceries dropped off by cars. I arrived at 8:45 a.m.--not bright and early, but brighter and earlier than I'd been scheduled to be anywhere in a good amount of time. The volunteers and staff alike stood in stunned silence as we watched the ominous flames and billowing smoke blow toward us from a few miles northeast. We shared our memories of Waldo, and grief we could not truly articulate for those who were experiencing this tragedy again. We donned face masks as the wind blew and made it increasingly difficult to breathe. And we quietly went about our duties, thanking each donor as they dropped off goods for the firefighters and displaced residents.

Initially, the cars trickled in--one or two every seven minutes. Local news crews were there, and they wondered aloud what, specifically, the Care and Share staff felt was needed, in terms of donations. A spokesperson focused on snacks and dried food/ goods, but also mentioned that Gatorade would be great for those fighting the fires--at that point, we'd only received three twelve packs of the "thirst aid". This was approximately 9:45 a.m.

By 10:30 a.m., we were eight cars deep at the loading docks, and the first driver in my loading bay beamed as he popped open his trunk to reveal twenty five--yup, twenty five--cases of Gatorade. He told me to get ready, because he'd just come from CostCo, and said, "There must be five hundred people there, buying stuff to bring to you."  I felt a pull at my heart and a lump in my throat, but figured he must be exaggerating. He wasn't.

Within half an hour, the line of cars poured from our parking lot. It stretched down the hill, through three lights, and out onto Powers Boulevard--a busy thoroughfare in town. That line of cars, full of people who wanted to do anything that they could to help, would grow to be about a mile and a half long.  And by two o'clock, Care and Share had received about 40,000 bottles of Gatorade, along with a plethora of food and monetary donations.

I personally spoke with drivers who'd driven in from towns three-four hours away, simply to donate. By two thirty, I was drenched in sweat, my limbs felt like putty, and I was overwhelmed. I needed time to process all of this. And so, I left Care and Share, and sat for an endless amount of time, frozen in my car, and thanking God.

I try, each time I post a piece on this blog, to leave God out of the equation--I hate "preachy", sanctimonious, heavy-handed essays, and I know at least one of my five readers does not know my God/ doesn't get His central role in my Life. However, I can't. I can't leave God out, because the Truth of the matter is, He is an integral a part of everything I ever experience, and even when we can't see it, He is the only link in all that we each experience--the hysterically funny...the horrifically bad...the deep and profound...the frustating and uncertain...He's the only constant character in each part of our stories. He knows that we will experience anger, and heartbreak, and confusion, and distress, but He still stands, ready to take our burdens onto Himself.

I thanked God for how amazing this community is--for how the people of Colorado Springs, like no other place I've ever lived, always step up to help one another. A somewhat sizeable city, the Springs has it's share of violent crime, shattered relationships, and corruption, and I've been known in the (totally distant;-)) past to bemoan the creative and cultural void here. But if a member of our "family" is in need, we trip over each other as we sprint toward them to help.  The sense of community here is, in a word, life-changing.

...I thanked Him for overwhelming me with the fact that He is bigger than this tragedy, and He is bigger than the seemingly insurmountable junk in my own life. He will work in the lives of those devastated this week, and He is weeping with them.  He is wrapping His arms around them, and me, and you in the midst of our struggles...as our hearts break, so does His. 

Lastly, today, I thanked Him for the second impressive rainbow He has allowed me to view in less than a month...I was out on Woodmen Road, for a run in pelting rain that felt cleansing and freeing, and I glanced over to the wide, open view of the Black Forest. My gaze fell on a double rainbow, arcing it's way out of the ashes and into the city of Colorado Springs. And I felt my eyes doing that leaky thing that I hate. Like faucets, they poured out onto my cheeks and I was once again overwhelmed...by the hope that whispers to each of us--the water that douses the flames of whatever we are facing, if only we let it.

YOUR STORY? MATTERS...

"Fear is a manipulative emotion that can trick us into living a boring life...I think this is when most people give up on their stories.  They come out of college wanting to change the world...but they get into the middle and discover it was harder than they thought.  They can't see the distant shore anymore, and they wonder if their paddling is moving them forward...they go looking for an easier story." -"A Million Miles in a Thousand Years" Donald Miller

"I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full."-"John 10:10" Jesus

I escaped Life through Danny Boyle's Best-Picture winning fairy tale, "Slumdog Millionaire," for the umpteenth time last night.  I have a deep and abiding love for this film--not only because it is beautifully shot, lends to escapism, and is full of fleshed out, authentic characters in fantastical (although mostly horrific) circumstances, but also because Boyle's protagonist, Jamal, is allowed an opportunity that each of us long for...While sitting in the contestant's chair of "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?", he recognizes that each moment of his life--the painful, heartbreak-inducing moments, the joyful, ecstatic moments, the soul-crushing moments of betrayal and loneliness, the seemingly meaningless interactions and "small" moments-- each has led him to this point. The point where he is reaffirmed in his life's purpose (in this case, locating his childhood sweetheart/soul mate Latika, so that he may declare his undying love for her), and where his fortunes (both material and spiritual) transform for the better. 

As I watched Jamal process through his own story, I realized how important it is for us to do the same.  I'd been thinking about posting something on this subject for some time, and then read Donald Miller's "A Million Miles in A Thousand Years", which is all about faith and living a good story (funny, witty, heart-wrenching, and a phenomenal read--I am seriously in love with this guy)...and then listened to my pastor, Matt Heard (an amazing, colorful storyteller himself) speak about how although there is no avoiding hardship in this life, we must use this to submit to God's "scalpel" (let me be clear though--God does NOT cause these things, but will use them to prune us, to shape us, to transform us into something beautiful) and allow Him to "refine our character" through these things...and then watched "Slumdog". I haven't "heard" that internal voice of God as of late, but piled together, these scenarios created a serious roar and compelled me to write about...story.

As a writer, I am obsessed with the idea of "story"--even while people-watching, my mind quickly comes up with a created background for passers-by, I will try to dig into the motivations behind others' actions, and I tuck away random events in my own life to use in future character development. Last month, when I moved back to Colorado from Los Angeles, I thought of this new but familiar beginning as a crisp, blank page on which I could pen this next chapter. I was full of excitement and hope. Eager to experience shared growth within the Fellowship of the community I felt called to, excited to continue my writing career from the soul-refreshing landscapes and familiar spots of my adopted "hometown", bursting at the seams to share creatively and impact lives as I go about my "professional" days...but, as I've chronicled previously, situations and relationships have not unfolded in the ways in which I anticipated. To be blunt, my circumstances suck/ are difficult in more ways than I'd like... 

Okay, things are hard, but so what? What should this mean  in terms of how I live my Life?  How do I allow the scenarios around me lead me to a deeper Life, a more Hope-inspired perspective, and prevent them from shutting the fountains of my life down and off--how do I prevent my streams from drying up and becomming dusty wastelands? This sounds more "woe is me" than I'd like, but when things fall apart, and especially when relationships fall apart in my life, my heart feels crushed...I start to doubt myself...I begin to doubt the eternal arms of unconditional love that wrap around my trembling, weak self.  But, what makes this particular period of pruning different for me is that I recognize that it is a part of my story. 

Let me explain--If I reflect on my life thus far, and I look back on it as a story with a first and second and third (and, if I am daring/ God has a sense of humor--maybe even a fourth and fifth) act, I see how the dramatic moments of my first acts changed me.  As much as I want to dwell in the amazing, exciting things that have occurred, and forget/ never again experience the hardships, the truth is that the branches of my tree of life have blossomed and my trunk has shot up exponentially during the difficulties, and while I've experienced a taste of heaven through the fun, adventurous, "blessed" moments, I can only appreciate these times because of the difficulties.  The only reason that I can look for the "good story" during days of monotony is because  I've enjoyed both extremes.

If I compartmentalize the horribly painful moments, the times when I fall and bloody my shins and spirit and heart, I learn nothing. The aches are in vain.  Conversely, if I dwell in the times of happiness and amazement, if I live in the tempting trap of nostalgia, I cease to move my story forward. But I must recognize the significance of both. Like Jamal, I must connect the dots, understand the transition between chapters, and recognize that everything, and I mean everything--every interaction, every choice, every second of indecision, every mountaintop experience, every day spent isolated in the desert, every kindness, every moment I've connected with others or shut down and closed them out--matters. These experiences pepper the landscape of my life, and without any of them, I would not be where I am today, good or bad.  

The other thing I realized as I watched Jamal's life unfold is that we are all equipped to change the course of our stories-- to make them, as Donald Miller (my soon-to-be husband) says, "better stories".  And, I firmly believe/ know that my God is the God of second, and third, and fourth, and a billionth chances... that He will work through our crappiest choices and our most dire of circumstances, but we are still creatures of free will. We choose how to live life, and through pursuit of our dreams, and through giving ourselves to helping and sharing with others (even in the smallest of ways), through allowing ourselves to acknowledge the disquiet of our souls, through following through with whatever specific "call" we feel is placed on our lives--regardless of the obstacles that may stand in our way, through recognizing the significance of every moment of every day, we create our own stories.  As "Slumdog" neared its end, I found my brain circling around that nagging question--In spite of obstacles and unwanted uncertainty, what am I doing to better my story? How do I move past the ache in my heart that compels me to curl up in my jammies and ignore the world? 

 I acknowledge that the Only Constant, Unconditional source of my story still has me--I trust this and this alone, and as I acknowledge the pain, I move beyond it by standing in the confidence of being passionately loved by the only One who will never, ever let me down, and who loves me as I am.... Am I there yet? For brief glimpses/ split seconds, yes. Will I get to the place where this is consistent? I truly hope so.

Lastly, as the "SM" credits rolled, and Jamal, Latika, and friends danced a brightly-colored, poetically choreographed number, I felt an urgent need to encourage those who do not think that their particular story matters. As vital as it is to be aware of one's own story--to look back on the past, understand the present, and therefore, be better informed on how to live a great future, it is also important, I think, to share one's story--the triumphs and tragedies.  You do not have to live a large, wealthy, prestigious, or even victorious existence in order to possess a tale that will positively impact the life of another. There is something that you--yup, talking to you--have experienced that can help inspire someone else. A great experience, a costly mistake, a bit of wisdom gleaned, a period spent in idle, non-dreaming, soul-killing stagnancy...you, my friend, hold an important story that can be used to speak volumes into another life. So, I guess that's my challenge to the four of you (my readership just went up! WooHoo!) who are trudging through my long-winded convoluted trail of thoughts--to process through, to let sink in, the fact that YOUR...SPECIFIC...STORY ...MATTERS. 

I guarantee that it will make you more conscientious of the importance of every moment of your day. I promise that it will awaken a carpe diem desire within you. It will cause you to have more love and empathy as you deal with others. And it will move you on to an exciting, rich, and deep "next chapter".  And, as you live out each day, each interaction, each relationship with intention, you will be more open to sharing your story--who knows? It may deeply transform the story of another... for, your story matters.   I'm trying my best (with many, many moments of failure) to go about my days with this in mind, and I hope that I've helped to encourage you to do the same.

"Raise my hands

paint my spirit gold. 

Bow my head

 free my heart and soul."

 -"I Will Wait" Mumford & Sons

" And once you live a good story, you get a taste for a kind of meaning in life, and you can't go back to being normal; you can't go back to meaningless scenes stitched together by the forgettable thread of wasted time." -"A Million Miles in A Thousand Years" Donald Miller

  

PERCEPTION

"My secret is that I need God--that I am sick and can no longer make it alone. I need God to help me give, because I no longer seem to be capable of giving; to help me be kind, as I no longer seem capable of kindness; to help me love, as I seem beyond being able to love."

- "Life After God" Douglas Coupland 

 "But you saw no fault, and no cracks in my heart. You knelt beside my hope torn apart."

- "The Ghosts that We Knew" Mumford and Sons

Ten days ago, I ran along the rain-soaked sidewalks of historic Old Colorado City in Colorado Springs, CO--my mind nailed down with the weight of uncertainties and disillusionment about tectonic plate shifts in my relationships, my finances, my professional life....After sprinting through a sudden burst of showers, I came to a screeching halt. I felt self-absorbed and gross. I felt alone and unwanted. I felt confident and trusting, confused and muddled, Delighted in and tarnished. All at once. Frustrated again that while these moments do not hold the iron-fisted reign over my heart that they once had, I cannot quite escape their somewhat frequent, insidious, soul-penetrating screams of revolt. 

It was the first of what would prove to be many mini-meltdown moments. I knew (and know) that my struggles, while basic in their core, are giant and looming to me, but a young child soldier in the Sudan or a Christian living in Pakistan would scoff at how easily I am crippled.

After a short period of stillness, I came to my senses, and lifted my head.  As I looked up, I saw the brilliant rainbow in the photo above--and knew that this was a small kiss from God. A whisper that uttered, "But your heartaches and pain are big to you, therefore, they are important to me as well. Check out this cool piece of art I made for you! I've got your back, Paris. You're going to be alright. Did you hear me? I've...got...you." (Yup, sometimes God uses my nickname/ last name--He's cool like that.)

And once again, without any logical explanation, peace crashed over me.  I began to realize that although so many of my circumstances...suck, once again, I am better than okay--I'm amazing, actually. Because He called, again, and I followed...again.  And I know Him, and His love for me--and more importantly, His ferocious "like" for me--in life-changing ways that depend on nothing other than my acceptance of this. I could lose every friend, never find "true" love, squander my talents..."fail" in every way possible--I could make self-destructive, disgusting mistakes, and He would love me in the same ways as He does now.  Yet, I find myself either resting in the rolling hills of this knowledge, or locked in a self-made prison of a thousand mirrors--each reflecting back a facet of my worst self...I begin to listen to the hissing in my head that declares: "You mess everything up...no one will ever truly love you...something is so wrong with you--if and when people see the real you, warts and all, they will always, always run away--either screaming, or with indifference. You, my friend, are an epic fail"... So, in terms of God's unconditional love--Knowing this, Believing this, and Living in the freedom of this are three different issues. And, it's all about perspective.

After I developed the photo of the rainbow, I noticed a distinct male profile looming in-between the clouds--He seems to be gazing toward the heavens, and the clouds on either side of him look, to me, like outstretched arms.  I'm not sure whether anyone else sees this same dude, or if the clouds appear to other observers to resemble a guitar. Or a unicorn. Or Kobe Bryant.  But, the rainbow itself and the developed picture provided me with two different angles on the same moment.  As I witnessed the rainbow, I felt hugged, and loved. When I looked at the still, I was struck by my utter, constant need for God--by the fact that whether we are healing and healthy, mired in woundedness, or masked and fake/ cloaked in our pretense of self-manufacturing and pride, we are all broken. Humanity is broken. Every....last...one...of...us. And this man or angel or whatever--let's call him "George"--George represented to me an unmasked, vulnerable turn toward heaven. George seems to be looking toward God and just saying "Help".

Fifteen days ago, when I left the 405, the 5, the 110, the 101, etc., etc. of Los Angeles to drive back toward the sprawling beauty, the crisp, fresh air and the protective peaks of Colorado Springs, I brimmed with confidence in my choice, and was full of Trust that jumping off the cliff of uncertainty meant grabbing onto the hang glider of Faith that would gently direct me and provide a soft and smooth landing. Unfortunately this is not typically how Life--or my Life anyway--works....When the tangible relationships and jobs and earthly "reasons of purpose" fall out of my clutching hands, when the beginnings of the phenomenal canvas I have painted in my mind fail to materialize, I am forced to recognize that God is truly the only part of this whole mess that matters. That He is enough. Period. It is okay to desire fulfillment in all of these areas, and it's great to seek and dream about only "good" things, and they may come....but I am learning that the "Blessings" of Life often come when I am least expecting them, and appear in the tattered clothes of a street person or the rabid nature of a wolf more often than not. What I mean, I guess, is that the hardest, most painful, loneliest situations are often the catalyst that provides polish for the scrapes and decay in my metal-- when I am isolated and forced to look at my messy insides...when I recognize my need for "weeding" in my own heart, it opens my eyes and my world to deeper relationship with God, deeper connection with others--released from all expectations, deeper engagement with my passions, my artistic drives, the world around me...the small moments and the large.  I hate that this is so--I wish that I could refine my character and grow deeply with God only through amazing friendships, fellowship, finding my "true love"...through spending all day, each and every day, creating art...through world travel...through a huge option on a script, or through winning the PowerBall--but that's not typically how it works. (I am certainly open to receiving each and every one of these gifts, though ;-)).

It is so easy to become weighted down by things that suck. But again, it's all about perspective. The divorces, the death of a loved one, the harsh news about an incurable disease...the loss of a profession, or the inability to find one...sexual and physical abuse, rape, poverty, drug and alcohol addictions...victims of violence and of hate...corruption in the church...broken friendships and familial relationships--these are always painful and heart-rending, regardless of our perspectives. The difference, though, comes from resting in the knowledge that there is so much more than this. That one day, we will be beyond these things. One day, we will be able to become whole again. Recognizing that these horrible and painful things will  occur in each of our lives but that there is Hope beyond this doesn't diminish the heartbreak, but it frees us up. It allows us to experience a deep Joy and Purpose and Peace that surpasses all of our brokenness.

When I lose sight of this, I become paralyzed. When I lose sight of this, each and every wound that I've ever experienced rushes back to the surface, and I feel so very weighted down. I can mask it with the fun, bouncy, funny ways I've mastered, but it erupts internally with a deafening shriek that  implodes my heart.  However, when I acknowledge that hard things will occur periodically throughout my journey--that I cannot escape this--but that these things do not define me, I gain perspective and energy and hope.  

On a humorous note, the idea for this post germinated when I was resting at the apex of a mountain trail hike. I was lulled into believing I was the only soul around, and so, spread myself across the rocks and closed my eyes. After a few moments, I heard the voices of teenage boys 'rounding the bend close below. As they neared, I saw two languid-limbed, acne-scarred, long-haired "metal heads". I heard one of them distinctly say, "Yeah, I don't really care for Aunt Sarah." I felt my head grow warm and my insides shake--how did he even know that I'm an Aunt? But as I listened further, I realized that what he really said was, "I don't really care for Pantera."  As in the old school heavy-metal band, Pantera....Perspective.

So, although I hope that there are many more "great" situations to come...situations that inspire a huge, praise-filled "thanks", I will continue to be thankful for all of the change that comes about because of the difficult ones. And I, like George, will just turn upward with outstretched arms and say "help".

Self-confession/ introspection has slowly evolved as the theme behind these posts,  but I thank you for reading anyway. And, I continue to hope that my experiences will help other weary travelers along their way. 

"If we hear, in our inner ear, a voice saying we are failures, we are losers, we will never amount to anything, this is the voice of Satan trying to convince the bride that the groom does not love her. This is not the voice of God. God woos us with kindness, He changes our character with the passion of His love." -"Blue Like Jazz" Donald Miller

TOP TEN THINGS I'VE LEARNED IN L.A.

"Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take! The clouds you so much dread are big with mercy and shall break in blessings on your head."- "God Moves in a Mysterious Way" Nate Miller

"Teach my eyes to serve, my hands to learn." -"Below My Feet" Mumford & Sons

I've resided in L.A. for a whopping nine months. A pregnancy. A collegiate school year.  An angst-filled "long" teenage romance. And I'm heading out from these parts tomorrow.  Upon my arrival here, I knew that this chapter would last only a season, but was not entirely sure what that meant. 

As any of the three of you who read every one of my blog posts know (;-)), I've sensed for some time that God is calling me back to Colorado, and I marvel at this. I marvel at the fact that the last few years have transformed that breathtakingly beautiful state into the home of my heart. I marvel at how I feel the pull to contribute to a particular community, to call myself part of the dysfunctional but loving family of a particular church...how much I ache for the familiarity of my favorite well-worn mountain trails and inspiring vistas there. Thus, after accomplishing much of what I came to California to do, after experiencing some truly difficult circumstances over the past few months, and after some phenomenal reaffirmations from God via encouragement and random happenstance, I have made the decision to go back. To go home. 

Since that time, the reins of control have sped passed my grasp. Days, weeks, months have melted away from me. And as my departure grows more imminent, I feel as though my life is spinning without me...as if in some ways, I am just along for the ride. I am confident that God IS  doing the leading here, and that I am simply following. However, the solidified circumstances, situations, relationships that I was sure awaited me are currently tenuous, murky, daunting, and "up in the air" at best. Scary, unsafe, and irreparable at worst.  I feel insane for doing this. I am stripped bare and weak. But, I Trust. And I've learned that when I am at my weakest, when I hold no pretense of "making things happen" on my own, God works His best in my life. When I recognize that I have no control,  I cease to live in a self-absorbed state--when I know how much help I truly need, I am paradoxically more able to help others.  And, as I am out of any other immediate options, and am going, I have no choice but to trust.


"Though, to say, 'We've got much hope!' If  I am lost, it's only for a little while." -"Monsters" Band of Horses


I also recognize that those who thought me crazy for coming to California will probably find my choice to return just as crazy. And this is okay.  I need to inhale deeply, relax, cease to take myself so seriously....to take steps to rectify my situations to the best of my ability...to trust that God will take care of the rest. I need to be thankful for all of the amazing things that I have been blessed with in this Life. And conversely, I must be honest about the ways in which my heart feels wounded and confused, but then... get over it. Get over the luxury of Western World angst, and allow the volcano of joy and excitement to erupt from within.

That said, as I spend today reflecting on my time in Southern California and on the ways (both wonderful and crappy) that things have unfolded here, I thought I'd compile a Top Ten list--for your reading pleasure (or for mine, anyway;-)).

The Top Ten Things I've Learned in L.A. are....:

10. It often takes 2 1/2 hours to travel 23 miles. Residents consider this "normal". This is especially unpleasant if one possess a bladder the size of a grain of rice, or if it's 100 degrees outside and one's sweat has sweat. (The combination of both is another story for another day). After growing up outside of the DC Beltway and experiencing the traffic of Denver and Philadelphia, I can honestly say that Los Angeles area traffic experiences are what I'd imagine hell to feel like...

9. However, #10 allows for much time in reflection...allows one to take in an otherwise missed sunset--the burnt oranges, indigos, and crimsons of which are God's spray paint...allows for the enjoyment of music and audio books in the soul-penetrating manner for which they were created...

8. If, during a face-to-face or phone interview, a potential employer tells you that you are "Amazing. Truly just awesome," or that your writing holds "a unique, fresh, and distinctive voice" or is "genius", this person will not hire you....Will not call you back... has most likely not read any of the samples you sent him or her.  Honesty is not pervasive in any aspect of the entertainment industry, and is atypical in any encounters here.  On the upside, it is rare to encounter straightforwardly "mean" individuals.

7. I could spend twenty-four hours with great tunes and good company driving up and down the Pacific Coast Highway and feel truly joyful and at peace.

6. The true creative giants in this town are the most unaffected, humble, subtle, and genuine people one could hope to meet.

5. Those who bleed with insecurity and have no foundation on which to stand will exert much effort to be "cool" or "hipster", and to let others know what a "big deal (they are)".  

4. Some of the most beautiful souls whom I've crossed paths with reside in the greater Los Angeles area. My life has been enriched by these people, and I've grown and learned so much from them.

3. Junky, rusted vehicles will go to great lengths to find ways to hit my car.  40% of the car accidents I've been in have occurred in 2013.  Perhaps this is why native Los Angelinos find it so odd that I am driving back to Colorado, and that people cross state lines in their cars every day.

2. God is truly, wholly, my only source. I find glimpses of Him in art, in nature, in people, in relationships, but He is the only one whom I can set my foundation upon. I cannot quite articulate the resonant ways in which I've learned this here.  I finally understand, from the depths of my marrow, that "His love never fails, it never gives up, it never runs out on me." 

1. There are a plethora o' things I love about this town, and I do not regret, for one second, "L.A. Residency: The Sequel".  And, although I am struggling to stifle the panic that eclipses the excitement about my return home, although I have some very real struggles and unfulfilled basic needs that await me in a few short days, I know I am doing the right thing. I know, as waves of peace wash over me, and God whispers, "Follow", that somehow, some way, things will be great.  And, that my work will have me in Los Angeles for short stints for the rest of my life--I'm not quite done with this town.

I look forward to the great and wild sprint with God that awaits me in this next, albeit familiar, chapter.

As always, thanks for reading. (And, because I've been asked, yes, all pictures accompanying these posts were taken by me:-))...

"Lord, release my wild soul."- "Wild Soul" Langhorne Slim and the Law

WHY WE RUN

"Let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us." Hebrews 12:1b (NIV)

"No dear brothers and sisters, I have not achieved it, but I focus on one thing: Forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead, I press on to reach the end of the race." Philippians 3:13 (NLT)

Runners... We run to improve our physical health.  We run to better our mental wellness and clarity of thought. We run to learn how NOT to give up. We run to belong. We run to inspire and encourage ourselves, each other, and others.

We are all shapes and sizes and ages.

We run in the dusty plains of Kenya.  We run on the sandy shores of Maryland.  We run in the purple mountains of Colorado. We run in the bone-biting cold of Chechnya.  We run in every corner of the globe.

We are athletes. We are overweight couch potatoes seeking to conquer our issues and change our lives. We are amputees and terminally ill triumphing over our life-changing scars and beating down the stabbing words of naysayers.  We are moms and dads, sons and daughters. We are students, doctors, bartenders, and war veterans. We are Olympians. We are all God's children.

The world will be inundated with stories of triumph over evil and stories of heartbreak that arise from the smoke of the Boston Marathon bombings for some time to come. Thus, although I have many thoughts and deep emotions elicited by the God-given, innate desire of humanity to rally together, to act heroically, to push back against the face of evil, this post is not about that day, or how much it brought back memories of 9.11. This post is simply about running.

I am a runner, in the loosest sense of that word. Oh, I've run in a multitude of 5 and 10Ks, but I've never yearned to have my time publicized, and the mere thought of running in even a half-marathon instantaneously sends my quads and hamstrings into spasm. But I run.

I run because the feelings of "breaking into the zone" and pushing my limits far past what I thought I was capable of brings me exhilaration and inspiration at its best.  I run because the journey, the process, is analogous to my journey with God and my journey through Life in a way that nothing else comes close to...

I used to hate running. If I ran, it was simply to run away, and certainly not toward anything. Playing sports as a kid, I'd quit any running drill as soon as I had a stitch in my side--or as soon as the coach wasn't looking.

As a young adult, I rock climbed as often as possible (another beautiful metaphor for the journey of Life), and although I still love that sport, I do not have the time or money or plethora o' rock climbing partners required to continue that investment... I hate gyms and the induced boredom they bring me, and the abounding oogling that occurs in most I've ever worked out in. 

And so, about four years ago, I bought a pair of trail runners, an armband for my iPod, and I stretched my weary limbs and began to run. In the two years leading up to running, I sat in a stagnant swamp of fear and despair in Life. I was not living life with a capital "L".  I knew God, but refused to allow Him to heal the gaping wounds in my heart.  'Refused to step out in faith. My belief that I was loved unconditionally--that I mattered, that my talents mattered--sat behind cobwebs in a locked cabinet.  I was stifled and burdened. I was surrounded by others, but ironically, all alone. And then, a funny thing happened. I began to run. And as I set out for an initial mile, and then two and then three... four... five, I found my life begin to change.

On my runs, at the moment where I felt like I wanted to quit and throw up, I'd push even harder and find the ability to go even further spark from an internal well I did not know that I possessed. I began to develop muscles I didn't even know that I had. My energy levels changed, my thoughts became clearer, and I began to engage in new and real ways with the things around me.

And when I ran my first race, I was emboldened by the others who ran with me. The faster, healthier runners who would slacken their pace momentarily and run beside me, encouraging and supporting me. Those who were struggling more than I, that I in turn, stayed beside and encouraged forward. "I can't" became "I might" and then "I will". 

And I found that if I set a destination for my runs, and I reflected on markers along the route that would remind me of how far I'd come, my journey became easier and more "worth it". I began to see beautiful things along the way that I missed when, head down, I struggled to catch breath, and combated the overwhelming desire to quit.

Through scripture, God tells us that our lives with Him are a race to be run--that when we cease to endure and trust, when we lose sight of our destination, we miss out on the blessings of the road. We become so encumbered with our own struggles that we fall each time a muscle cramps. We're so wrapped up in our own paths, that we hold no interest in connecting with, receiving help and encouragement from, and in turn, helping others along the way. He tells us to keep our eyes set "on the prize" (the destination), and to never quit.

On Monday in Boston, two confused, lost, and evil young brothers sought to destroy the joy that comes from finishing the long and difficult run. But, in spite of the murder and life-altering that  they caused, they failed... On an epic level.  They simply strengthened our collective resolve to keep on, and to keep on running. And so we will.  We will continue to run toward our destination, and will enjoy the beauty and the joy, the overwhelming sadness and pain, that the race brings.

For this is why we run.