Writings and Ramblings

I ran a marathon.  Once.  It's been nearly four years ago, and there are parts of me that want to run the full 26.2 miles again just to see if I can.  And then I remember the difficulty of it.  I would almost say that it was the hardest thing I have ever physically accomplished, but then I remember birthing four babies and that one horrific kidney stone.

I trained for four months, and each week the required miles would stretch my endurance even further.  I knew I could run at least 13 miles, having already accomplished a half marathon, but as the race grew closer, the miles grew longer and I doubted if I would be able to finish.  I never stopped trying.

The longest distance I would be required to run before the race was 20 miles.  I remember waking up on that rainy Saturday morning, and feeling a nervous excitement.  Would I be able to finish?  Would I do it well?

The rain poured down on me for three hours, and there was more than one concerned motorist that stopped and offered me…

It's been awhile since I've felt this way, all messed up inside.

A few hours of sleep stolen doesn't seem quite enough to steady the patience I need.  What we all need is love poured out in words and actions, because love is patient and love is kind.  All I am offering today is edgy tolerance.

But words from a smart mouthed boy pushes the balance of emotions too far and I'm am spilled out all over the floor.  There it lays, an ugly mess of words that don't speak love into a soul that needs to hear that what I have for him is unconditional.

What I have given is an order to take it all to his room.  Out of sight, out of mind, out of the range of me, imperfect me who can't stop the mouth from spewing out the sickness of a weary heart.

I settle into mindless scrolling and try to forget the give and take of pain.  Cries of the wounded reach me, and I shake regret from shoulders.  I'm forgetting again all about the blessing of grace received.  This God favor pour…

It was Christmas Day.  The weather proved unusually warm for Cincinnati, and I couldn't help but think that every Christmas from here on out would feel much the same.  I would miss the possibility of snow, but it wasn't a necessity.  I had woken early to the promise of delicious food and excited children gathered around the table.


In the shadows of my room, I took a quick glance at my phone that showed a message from Chris Bagwell, my ministry partner, my friend.  She had some news to share.

I hadn't seen Chris since my trip to Nicaragua in July.  She was just as I had remembered her from the year before.  Her southern accent a pleasure to hear; her genuine spirit a delight to a world that grows increasingly tired of pretense.  I recall the first time I met her and how she told the story of a dream she remembered from her childhood.  There on the doorstep she would find abandoned babies that needed to be rescued.  I find it no coincidence that she has been called to do th…

I step an unsure foot out onto the water, man-made and frozen over.  Bits of air bite at the exposed and vulnerable skin, those parts of me that blush when the wind blows.

I move unsteadily into the mass of others making their rounds, afraid of the bombardment.  Carefully I push forward, one foot before the other.

It is not long before those muscles who long believed they had retired, protest the injustice of being called forth on this chilly day.   They will scream at me tomorrow.

I hear the metal cutting through ice, a clean slice beneath my skate.  I remember this.  It was fun once.

A few more times around the rink and my confidence is growing.  I'm ignoring my son who has passed me a dozen times already, full of smiles and showmanship.





Just ahead I spot the pink of her coat.  Her Daddy holds her steady.  I coast from behind and  listen to the small raspy voice.  "Stay right there Dad.  Don't let me fall.  I don't want to fall, okay?  I'm gonna try this by myse…