every minute

i am long on staying.
i am slow to leave, especially when it comes to you my friend.
you have taught me to slow down, and to prop up my feet.
it's the fine art of being who i am.

and i can't figure out why you want me around.
i'm not the smartest person i have ever met.
but somehow that doesn't matter,
no it really never mattered to you at all.

*and at the risk of wearing out my welcome.
*at the risk of self-discovery,
*i'll take every moment,
*and every minute that you give me.

'cause if you sit at home you're a loser,
couldn't you find anything better to do?
well, no, i couldn't think of one thing
i would rather waste my time on than sitting here with you.*

and i wish all the people i love the most could gather in one place,
and know each other and love each other well.
and i wish we could all go camping, and lay beneath the stars,
and have nothing to do and stories to tell.

we'd sit around the campfire and we'd make each other laugh,
remembering when...
and you're the first one i'm inviting.
always know that you're invited, my friend.*

[every minute. sara groves]

thank you, holly!

people watching

i have a couple hours, so here i sit, enjoying one of my favorite pastimes, people watching. the airport is a great place to practice such a hobby. even if for only a moment, thousands of paths collide at one, single terminal. they walk by in a hurry, rushed to get to the gate, to get to the plane, to get to the city, to get to wherever it is they are supposed to be. all these next steps in their journey are unknown to me as they walk by my seat against the window. but i enjoy watching them pass through my view for this moment our paths cross.

the business men are easy to spot for they walk with the confidence and arrogance of a seasoned traveler. they wear their suits and uncomfortably starched white shirts. often, they appear to be talking to themselves as they solve the world's economic problems over their bluetooth wireless thingies. at first i thought they were talking to themselves, until i saw the little piece over their ear. someday, i'll probably pass someone on the street actually talking to themselves and i'll think they're on the phone.

the school groups are also easily recognized and thankfully, scarce today. though they have traveled to another city, they still exist within their high school bubble, unaware of the commotion they automatically bring with them and more concerned with who said what to whom. oh, surely i was never that way.

the newlyweds are my favorites. thursdays aren't the best days to spot them off to their exotic locations, saturday and sunday would be prime watching times. they are so funny to me as they cannot even stand a moment of separation, sauntering down the busy corridor with arms entwined. while carrying all of their luggage, moving to their next destination, and without running into anyone else, somehow they manage to maintain an intense gaze at each other. it's really quite a phenomenal feat. their left hand sparkles and their eyes shine. their joy is contagious and i cannot help but smile. ah...someday.

many airline employees pass by me with ridiculously efficient baggage in tow. i wonder what their traveler lifestyle would like and if i would like it. perhaps for a week, but even i am tired of hearing how to fasten my seatbelt and what to do with my seat cushion in the event of an emergency. do they realize their suits make them look more like sailors at sea than pilots in the air?

i look onto the parents with small children sympathetically. i admire their little faces and the excitement of their squeels as they step onto the moving walkways. though my hats off to their parents and the way they've embraced the challenges of air travel with such little ones, i count my blessings that is not me and nor will it be for a long time.

then there are the older generation. [i will gave no age frame to this demographic for 'older' is a completely relative term] often, they can be spotted whizzing by on the terminal taxi with a look of either ecstatic glee or extreme fear. the walking ones take their time for they have learned the lesson most of us are too busy to hear, there is no need to hurry. however, i do wonder what fills their retired days.

i hope the man who just ran by me makes his flight and those soldiers all come back to their families.

now to finish my overpriced/undersized tea, enjoy the soft light by this window, and pick up the book i've been too busy to finish. i'll watch the faces pass by whose stories are a mystery to me. though they are unknown to me, i find comfort in the thought that i know a God who knows each of them by name. He knows their destinations and what puts the worry on their faces. He created a unique desire within them to love and a passion just waiting to be awakened. at their core, He gave them a hunger for something more in this life and He is pursuing them even now because He knows only in Him will it be satisfied; only in Him will we find life to the full. i pray that wherever they're going and whatever they're doing, they find Him along the journey.

directionally challenged

we all have our weaknesses and i am no exception. perhaps you are numerically challenged [math] or visually challenged [color blind]. some are horizontally challenged [short] or financially challenged [broke]. i would like to state for the record i am directionally challenged. what i mean by this is that unless i have a map in front of me, in a city i've lived in for longer than 5 years, or the sun is out, i cannot tell south from north, east from west. in my mind, it seems west should always be to my left and east to my right. this thinking has gotten me in trouble several times.

i've heard many issues or behavior problems of adults can be traced back to moments in their childhood. i don't know if i believe all of that. however, i do think my challenge with directions can be traced all the way back to the second grade...

i was in mrs. pettay's class and we had switched rooms for social studies. instead of mrs. willard teaching us as usual, her student teacher was in charge. normally, a student teacher wouldn't have bothered me, except for this one. mr. palmer. it was the 'mr.' part that was the problem. i was going through this phase of life where i was afraid of any older man but my dad. i don't really know why. the phase didn't last long, but it was definitely an issue that afternoon.

i was sitting in the front row and ahead of me he was holding the book explaining the cardinal directions. try as i might, i couldn't understand. how does south always stay the same? whenever i look at a map, north is always up so shouldn't the direction i am facing always be called north? the globe is a big circle so when does west become east or east become west? argh.

then the urge came. you know the kind...the bathroom urge.

as a second grader, i could hardly sit still or wait until bathroom break. i crossed my legs and my little feet kicked back in forth in impatience. i couldn't ask him to excuse me, he was a tall, scary man. he might get mad at me for interrupting or frustrated because i broke the class' attention. besides, the consequences of not understanding come test time seemed just as frightening. it took everything i had to focus on comprehending the difficult lesson before me and holding all of the liquid inside of me.

then i lost it.

i lost my focus on the north arrow as well as the need to go to the batheroom all over my seat and into the fresh puddle underneath of me.

[insert moment of panic]

i was no longer listening to anything going on in the room but instead, imagining the laughter that was about erupt around the room when they realized what i had just done. i know mr. palmer mentioned other things about compasses and maps, birds flying south and longitude; but i was done. my mind had already checked out from the direction lesson.

as he closed the book, his eyes stopped at the puddle beneath my seat. the red in my face rose quickly and intensely. my second grade reputation pended on how he would respond.

in a calm voice, i remember him saying, 'oh no. it looks like scott's water bottle spilled. we'll have to have him clean it up when we switch back.'

i was sitting in scott's seat and his water bottle was still full on the desk. mr. palmer's reaction saved my face. i could utter no words but only nod my head in agreement. poor scott.

i walked back to mrs. pettay's class, holding papers in front of me and behind me. thankfully, it was time to go home and i need not hide much longer. i didn't tell my friends on the bus or my mom when i got home. in fact, i never shared this story until high school when i had recovered from the embarrassment. today, it's one of my favorites.

i have now realized i have scarred myself from every truly grasping this concept of directions and have come to grips with the fact that i may never fully understand 'true north.' for long ago when you were learning this basic life skill, i was peeing my pants. i'm okay with this.

if you give me directions in the future, i would ask that you give me a map so that it can be rotated according to my own understanding. i navigated us for two days around rome with a map, managing to get us lost only once [though it must be stated this occured at 10 o'clock at night and lasted for 4 hours] i'm a visual person and with the aid of a map, i really am okay. however, if this is not possible please use lefts, rights, landmarks instead of norths and wests. thank you for your patience with my disability.

thank you

sometimes, it's hard for me to imagine what she was like when she was young. my mother, she was beautiful. her dark eyes must have drove the boys wild and her shinny hair was adored. she set off on her own at 18, confident in what she did know and naive of what she didn't.

her first date with my dad was a result of a bet. her boss was sure he was married. she, though they'd never spoken, knew he wasn't. she was right, the $20 was hers. my dad didn't think it fair she made money off of him and told her it was only fitting he took her out. he didn't let her pay then and she never went on another first date.

she was my age when i entered the world. this is hard for me to imagine for i don't feel old enough myself to have children. but she was, or maybe she just had to be. being the oldest, i can take credit for making her a mother. i watch my friends now as they begin their families. they 'oh' and 'aw' at every noise and movement and smile. i smile sometimes too wondering if that's how she looked at me.

next came eric, followed by amy, and ending with megan. her life became full of us. her hours revolved around our needs, our demands, our schedules. she put us completely ahead of herself. she never complained, that was our job. she'd clean a room and we'd follow behind messing it up. she's watched more puppet and magic shows than i care to count and ravished praise on every one. she patiently taught us to read and i still remember the moment she made 'carrying' in addition make sense.

one of my favorite memories were our 'secret nights' together on the weekends. i would pretend to go to bed with the others and only after i knew they were asleep, i would sneak out of my room and down the stairs where she was waiting for me. she taught me to sew on those nights, just me and her. we'd make christmas presents or dresses, barbie clothes for amy's dolls or cushions for the seats. i learned how to make her famous cookies which have no written recipe. i'm still learning, but in time and with her help, i will carry on her tradition.

a mother doesn't feel for us, but she feels with us. when we smile, she smiles. when we hurt, she hurts. i remember the hour she left me in the dorm room all by myself. i don't know for who it was more difficult. after five years of goodbyes, we both still cried. and this year, when the hurt seemed to go so deep and the tears would not stop, she didn't try to say something wise and motherly. she just held me and cried with me. now, she's about to send me off to strange place to people i don't know. but rather than be scared for my safety or encouraging of me to stay closer, she's begun reading books and sharing in my excitement. she's always told me she'll enjoy whatever moments she can have with me for she knows i'm meant to 'spread my wings somewhere else.' it is i who should be savoring these moments.

i will never understand the sacrifices she made until i am making them myself for most of them i never knew. i really think there is no other job more selfless than that of a mother, or at least my mother. it is a job she was never trained to do, her services never fairly compensated for, and one she will never retire from.

and now, by the end of this blog, the thankful tears cannot be stopped nor the depth of my gratitude accurately expressed. all i can find to say is thank you. for every moment, memory, tear and sacrifice, thank you.

13.1

runners are crazy people. they move at an insanely rate of speed and over long stretches of ground only to end where they first began. for months they train through sun, wind and rain. they push their bodies incredibly hard only to spend the days after recovering. they aren't chasing after a ball, or trying tackle somebody else. they know they won't win. their purpose is to beat themselves, their own time.

this really makes no sense to me.

but last week, i became one of them.
or at least i became a wanna-be
[which might actually make less sense than actually being one]

surrounded by thousands of other people, i ran. some ran with flags, some with friends. some ran for time, others just to finish. it didn't matter if you were an architect, teacher or janitor. on race day, you were a runner. and to me, that makes a lot of sense.

19.......the day in january of my last caffeinated drink
7.........the number of 10mi. training runs i've been on this year
298.....the times i thought i was going to hate running a half marathon
30.......the day in april the race occurred
2:50....how many hours it took us to drive to oklahoma city
4:30....the time i had to get up in the morning
300.....the amount of calories in my breakfast cliff bar
2.........the number of times i tied my shoelaces
168.....the number of moments of silence before the race began
168.....the number of people i was running in remembrance for
5456...the number of people who were also running to remember
50.......the states from which they came
2:35....the time in minutes it took me to actually start the race
48.......the temperature when the race began
6:35....the time the sun started rising and i realized what
..........an incredible moment it was to be alive
4.........how many times after that i listened to u2's beautiful day
10.......the amount of miles in which my legs seemed
...........to work independently from the rest of my body
0.........the number of times i stopped to walk
13.1....the number of miles i ran. not 13...13.1. don't forget the .1
2:13....the time in hours it took me to finish
99.9%.the chance i'll do it again

[on monday, i couldn't wait to have a starbucks mocha...it gave me a headache. on tuesday, i tried a hazelnut coffee...even bigger headache followed. what have i done to myself?!]

beyond the walls of this world

it's a rainy night at java nation...i could not be enjoying it more.
a chai tea in my left hand and a black pen in my right. i watch the drops fall outside the windows and the cars splash as they hurry by.
purple, black and yellow umbrellas float across the framed glazing.
i like the yellow one the best.

there is peace. life is comfortable. it is easy.
i am fulfilled. i am at 'home.'

'home' has become a relative term. it is not the big front porch i dream of having someday or found in the city in which i grew up. it's not where my family gathers or even in the memories i have made. home is where my heart is. though currently, it is camping out here on earth, it resides beyond the walls of this world.

in just over three months from now,
i will leave for a new place, a new 'home.'
i go not because i am running from pain or searching for meaning.
i journey not to find significance or because of a calling.
i am not attempting to make my goods out weigh my bads,
build my resume or find happiness in service.

i leave because there is a burning in my heart that compels me forward. there is a zeal within me to show His compassion, to spread His truth, to make His name famous, to share His love. this life is temporary, it exists for only a moment. my body is but a shell and my existence but a breath. His name is eternal. i will give that which i cannot keep for that which i cannot lose.

"the greatest use of life is to spend it for something that will outlast it."
william james [harvard psychologist]

some call this missions, others call it service.
perhaps you term it purpose or maybe even calling.
whatever you name it, it's not a location, an action, or a reason.
it's a lifestyle.

i call it love.
love is why i go.
a love for all people, a love for all ways of life.
a love found in beauty and brokenness.
a love which goes beyond the highest star
and reaches to the deepest hell.
a love that knows no end, no boundaries, no limits.
this love celebrates diversity and uniqueness of cultures.
it doesn't wait until eternity, or until one is good enough.
though, such accepted love provides eternal blessings in the future,
it is offered regardless of how one responds and without conditions.
it has been here since the beginning. it is embodied in this moment.
it offers life to the full today.
His love is why i go.