Inside: When seasons change suddenly or life throws you for an unexpected loop, remember these quick lessons from the running trail. ~
This little message, written on the trail to encourage marathon runners a few years ago, also spurred me on every time I passed it on my morning jogs.
Every time I sit down to write a blog post that has anything to do with running, I almost have to laugh.
I’ve never been what I’d call a runner. Partly due to a bad foot and partly due to not being very athletic.
Inside: The importance of routines and rhythms, memorable quotes from The Great Divorce, a poignant band concert, fighting the worry battle and some fine-lookin’ nachos.
I played the bass drum in high school marching band. I wasn’t great at it; in fact, I wasn’t even coordinated enough to play with two hands.
What I could do, though, was keep a steady beat.
Steady rhythms are helpful. They keep everything—and everyone—moving forward together.
When the rhythm is disrupted, it can throw everything off. In a high school marching band—and in life.
This hit home last month when I was sick with Covid. The actual illness wasn’t nearly as bad as the emotional roller coaster ride that followed it.
Fortunately, my husband and daughter kept our household running when I was sick. I’m grateful for that.
I’m also thankful for the rhythms and routines that have helped me get back to the business of managing my home and my mental health.
Speaking of routines, I’ve been participating in the monthly Share Four Somethings linkup for a few years now. I’ve gone back and forth about keeping it up.
It wouldn’t disrupt my blogging schedule much if I stopped. But I’ve heard from readers who say they enjoy this type of post because it helps them get to know bloggers on a more personal level.
I’m all for getting to know people better. Plus, these posts are fun to write.
You can let me know what you think about this in the comments. For now, I’m going to continue linking up with Jennifer Goodwin and the rest of the Share Four Somethings bloggers. As always, we start with …
In early March, the U.S. Navy Band kicked off their 2023 tour in Kansas. My sister Ruth is the group’s long-time principal oboist, so it’s always a joy to see them in concert.
This time, it was also bittersweet. When the band came through the Kansas City area in 2018, my dad was in the audience. He was proud of Ruth’s musical career, and he loved hearing her play, especially upbeat marches and other familiar pieces.
Most people probably don’t cry at Navy Band concerts. But I’m guessing it won’t surprise you to know I had to choke back more than a few tears when the band struck up a rousing version of the Washington Post March.
Something ReadI didn’t have any library books handy when I was recovering from Covid, so I pulled The Great Divorce off my shelf. I’m pretty sure it was required reading in college, but I don’t remember any of it.
According to the subtitle, this C.S. Lewis classic describes A Fantastic Bus Ride from Hell to Heaven—A Round Trip for Some but not for Others. Here are a few memorable quotes …
How heaven changes our perspective on suffering:
“This is what mortals misunderstand,” Lewis writes. “They say of some temporal suffering, ‘No future bliss can make up for it,’ not knowing that Heaven, once attained, will work backwards and turn even that agony into a glory.”
How people in Hell choose it:
“There are only two kinds of people in the end: those who say to God, ‘Thy will be done,’ and those to whom God says, in the end, ‘Thy will be done.’ All that are in Hell, choose it. Without that self-choice, there could be no Hell. No soul that seriously and constantly desires joy will ever miss it. Those who seek find. To those who knock it is opened.”
Now I’m reading Lewis’s Letters to Children, which I first found in a delightful used bookshop in Tontitown, Ark., (see photo at top of post) and later ordered from the library. I’m also rereading The Screwtape Letters.
Nothing gets my creative juices flowing more than reading good writing, and for me, Lewis is the absolute best.
This month, I’m sharing what I didn’t learn. Or, perhaps it would be more accurate to say I haven’t learned it nearly well as I thought.
The lesson? Not worrying about tomorrow.
In early 2020, when the world seemed to be teetering on the brink of disaster, God gently impressed upon my heart the need to address this struggle in a tangible way. (See here and here for more on that story.) I still have miles to go, but I honestly thought I had made a bit of progress with it.
Lately, though, I’ve found that while I’m able to live one day at a time in certain areas of my life, I’m far less OK with it in others. It’s been a mental battle, to put it mildly.
The particulars aren’t as important as the struggle, which I think many of us face.
Waiting for answers isn’t easy. What is easy—at least for me—is getting stuck in the what-if vortex.
The difference, compared with how I was before 2020, is that now I am very aware of what is going on. In a way, this makes it worse because I sometimes feel like a fraud. On the other hand, it’s helpful because I am actively seeking ways to respond.
I’m taking deep breaths. Remembering how God has worked in the past. Trying to cast my cares on Jesus right when they are swarming my mind.
One day at a time.
“I called to the Lord in my distress, and I cried to my God for help. From his temple he heard my voice, and my cry to him reached his ears.” ~ Psalm 18:6
Nothing fancy here, folks. We’re talking about nachos this month. On frequent Sunday evenings, Randy spreads out the chips, covers them with cheese and pops them in the microwave.
For Molly, a vast quantity of cheese is enough. For me, the work is only beginning. But, as you might concur after seeing the photo, the result is totally worth it.
• • •
Now it’s your turn. Have you read any memorable books lately? If worrying about tomorrow is a struggle for you, how do you combat it? How do you like your nachos—just cheese or loaded down with colorful extras? Do tell in the comments, or add your own version of Share Four Somethings.
♥ Lois
Steady rhythms are helpful. They keep everything—and everyone—moving forward together. Share on X I’m taking deep breaths. Remembering how God has worked in the past. Trying to cast my cares on Jesus right when they are swarming my mind. One day at a time. Share on XP.S. I’m linking up this week with sharefoursomethings, #tellhisstory, InstaEncouragements, Recharge Wednesday, Let’s Have Coffee and Grace & Truth.
Inside: Do you struggle for words when praying for grieving friends? Try asking God to help them in areas that were difficult for you during your own seasons of sorrow.
I don’t have specific stats to back this up, but it seems as if the first few months of 2023 have been marked by an onslaught of grief and loss.
Off the top of my head, I can think of five people I know who lost close loved ones, three of them unexpectedly. And that was just over a few weeks in January and February.
Inside: When there’s so much that divides us, a catchy message on a T-shirt can highlight what we have in common if we simply take the time to notice.
I was getting ready to check out at Kohl’s when I noticed a woman near the front of the store peering at me as if she knew me. I didn’t recognize her, but that didn’t stop her from coming over to where I stood.
“I love your T-shirt,” she said.
“Oh … thank you!” I said, glancing down to see what my shirt said. (Yep, I should have known.)
“Easily distracted by plants.”
Inside: A week that went sideways, a growing list of loves, a favorite Psalm and learning to trust on the cusp of a new season.
I’ve spent the last several days on the couch, resting my way through the various phases of a sickness I’ve not had previously and certainly didn’t expect to get last week.
The coming days likely will bring an uptick in articles about how the world has changed in three years and where we are now and what it all means. I have a few thoughts and feelings about that myself. Right now, though, I’m just grateful that my inevitable turn with Covid has been mostly unremarkable.
Inside: How an old snapshot of me and my dad helped me appreciate my mom more. And how growing older or losing parents can alter our perspectives and enable us to reframe memories in a healing way.
When I visited my aunt in Wisconsin last September, I was drawn to a thick album of family history on a shelf near her favorite reading chair.
My parents had a similar binder full of photocopied pictures and family memories in their home. But I had always skipped over the photos and gone straight to the written material when I looked at it.