God

To try to define our relationship feels nearly impossible to do. To attempt to put to words that which is undefinable, indescribable, incapable of being tarnished, touched by the limits of words feels degrading to that which I hold in such high esteem.

You have been my calling ever since I could remember. You have been who I've always talked to, always connected with. You've been the One who has always understood me, even when I didn't understand myself. You have been my source of comfort, my source of strength and endurance through a myriad of hell-on-earth experiences that I have lived through. You have been what's kept me going.

You have promised me you will never leave me. I believe you. But I also don't feel you. As these days go on and on and it feels like you're on one side of the grand canyon and I'm on the other: divided by a chasm so deep and so wide that I can't see you.

In the place of peace, there is torment. In the place of joy, there is angst. In the place of rest, there is exhaustion. I am lost. It's not the weight of the world that is defeating me so. It's the weight of your absence in my days.

You come to me in my sleep. I know it's you. I wake up filled with your words. My voice is filled with our songs. I find myself longing for sleep so that you will return and resuscitate me.

Please let me see you in the daylight. Please come and dwell among my heart and my household, and fill me with the peace of your presence once again. Please cast aside whatever it is that is causing this divide, and return to me the joy of my salvation.

I will wait.

Running

I set myself a goal a while back that I'd like to be able to run 2 straight miles (without stopping) by the time I'm 35. I have never been able to run. Not ever. At least not with any steadfast consistency. When I was young, I danced. In school, if you danced, you did not have to run. Below are a few things I have begun to notice about myself the more that I run.

• The more you run, the less you care about what you are wearing. You don't care if you match. You don't care if you have panty lines. You don't care if your socks are up around your ankles making your calves look ginormous. You just don't care anymore. It stops being about what people see in you when you're running, and more about what you want to be doing.
• It really can take a l o n g time for your body to adapt to running. These couch to 5k things don't work for everyone. Trust your own body. Listen to yourself. Don't feel like you have to fit into some pre-cut mold of how-to-run and feel frustrated when you aren't successful. But at the same time, don't make excuses for yourself either. Push yourself as hard as you can in a safe way.
• ALWAYS make sure someone knows where you are running. Don't be an idiot about your safety. Period.
• Run without music sometimes. I realize that for some of us, it's really difficult to do that, but I have found I have some of the greatest conversations with myself, God, my dog, when I don't have music blaring in my ears. Hearing the sound of my own breathing helps me to keep it in check, leading me to my next point. Plus, I can also very easily hear an approaching dog or vehicle and respond to it.
• Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Some of us naturally hold our breath when we're running. I don't know if it's the anticipation of hard work, or if it's some psychological broken component to our lungs, but I am definitely in that category. If this is you, work extra hard at overcoming this aspect in yourself. Concentrate heavily on how you are breathing. If you aren't sure if this category includes you, think about how running makes you feel. If it makes you tired, you're not breathing right. I used to say all the time running makes me SO tired! Then a friend mentioned in passing that when we were climbing up a flight of stairs, I wasn't breathing. It was like a light bulb went off in my head. As soon as I started focusing heavily on making sure I inhaled and exhaled slowly and deeply, running started to give me energy, instead of making me ready for a nap. Makes sense if you think about it.
• Give yourself goals and targets that are reasonable for you to accomplish. For example, I will run from this street light to the next one, without stopping. I have heard people say: run for ten seconds, then walk for twenty, but that only works if you'll count correctly or be staring at a clock the entire time. If you're like me, your counting will go from normal: 1, 2, 3 to 12345678910!
• If you can motivate yourself to run during shark week, give yourself an extra "hero" pat on the back. To run while your loins are angry and ferocious is really freaking hard, and the cramps that are already happening really suck! The fatigue, the headaches, etc etc etc, mean you deserve an extra awesome dose of "I ROCK!" when you run during this time. I don't care what anyone else says. It's. the. truth.
• If you're going to run with your dog, make sure your dog is a runner. Example: Jake (my chocolate lab) is old and frail. His hind legs have a lot of problems and it is extremely difficult for him to do any running. He would not be the ideal companion to take on a run. Gus-Gus however is a ninja. He loves to run. He is also protective of me. I like to think of Gus-Gus as my bodyguard and my teammate. He wants to run, so he pushes me to run (not in an inappropriate, dominate way... he knows who the alpha is, and he follows my leadership), which helps me to get a better workout.

Running is hard. And to be honest, I haven't seen much physical reward (I don't magically have a six pack, no chicken wings under my arms, and perfectly toned and tanned legs). But I can say this: Running is about you verses your body. It's a screaming match between your muscles wanting to stop and your will compelling you to keep going. It is hell, and it is hard. But it gives me this knowledge: I am stronger than my body wants me to believe...

Bruises

This week has been violent. The kind of violence where there's no clear definition of a perpetrator, just miles and miles of casualties strewn all around. I'm sitting here feeling oh so battered and bruised, still reeling from the week's worth of sucker punches.

My head is swollen and swore, and my heart aches. I've got a list of I-told-you-so's that I'm struggling to contain. I've got a plethora of warnings that went unheeded. But worst of all... are the blows that came unexpected.

I barely slept last night. Betrayal, devastation, dishonesty, laziness, incompetence, loneliness, hurts, weakness... Words blaring through my brain at a volume so much louder than peace. Why is Peace so often too quiet?

I wish I could define it all. I wish I could pour out my chest right here on the pages of this blog. I wish I could unleash and unload and give my soul some reprieve from this agony. But I have learned that silence is powerful, and there are wounds that cut across my flesh that are not mine, alone, to share.

So I cry.

I am angry. I am hurt. I am trying so hard to be selfless, but the wounds of the takers feel so overwhelming at times. And the wounds of my inability to heal the hurts of others frustrates me.

I feel heavy. Burdened. Drained.

I pried myself out of bed at three in the morning and I crawled into the embrace of the only Being that gets all of me. The only Being that sees as I see it, feels as I feel it, hurts as I hurt it, is angry as I'm angered by it. MY God. I pray, and I sing, and I cry.

I can feel it all falling away. It's like watching the desert sand and sun destroy. It's gradual, slow, seemingly unending. And then one day it just crashes under the weight of itself and all of the destruction that was so invisible explodes in your face. It's a mess. I'm a mess.

Anxiety is knocking on my back door and trying to worm itself in. I am tired God. I don't want to be here anymore. I don't want to do this anymore. I'm tired of this desert life. I want to move away. I want to learn whatever lesson You have for me here, so that I can be freed from this destructive environment. Please take the weight of this off of my shoulders.