The Grace Race

Where do I even begin with this one? Shiprock half marathon was my backup birthday race last year. When I chose to do Bay Bridge instead, I decided this would be my birthday race for 2026. Cue a lot of life in between.

I thought this would be an easy race to run post Mesa marathon. I would have the fitness and could just rehab myself and be able to run a half marathon no problem. While I had some pain in my left knee (IT band?), it went away, and I was back training. Pat's Run wasn't a PR, but good enough. I'd been running pretty long, and often with no problems. I was following the six week half marathon plan by Snacking in Sneakers, but it didn't feel like enough (Carroll, 2019). I looked at the final weeks of my Columbus half-marathon plan and thought I could just flip back into that. Maybe I was greedy? Maybe I wanted more miles? I did look at the results from last year's Shiprock half marathon and think I could place if I could back to similar half marathon times as I had run recently. I returned to the Columbus plan with, initially, no problem, but that was probably my first mistake. That plan contained more running and more strides (fast sprints) than the other plan. Initially, I felt fine, but then problems emerged. The week before the race, I felt some twinges of pain running my easy run on Friday (having run easy with some strides the day before). I also felt some tightness in my left hip when my husband and I went for a walk that evening. I did some extra yoga and stretching and figured I would see how I felt before my long run on Saturday. I didn't really even think about axing that long run. That was my second mistake.

I woke up early on Saturday, feeling energized, so decided to go for my run. I fueled well, I thought, and enjoyed my run. I felt a few twangs of pain starting and stopping at crosswalks, but it was only 10 miles with no speed. I'd be fine, I thought. Third mistake. I probably should have cut that run short.
After that run, I stretched and refueled, but I hurt. Throughout that day, I felt more and more sore. By bedtime the pain in my pelvis/groin was pretty bad. I worried I had a stress fracture. I had some of the symptoms, but not all. My husband told me to wait and see, as only time could tell what was wrong.

I took Advil to sleep that night, but slept horribly. I lay awake so long in the night that I got up and got my phone (which I leave charging in the office) to read. I told myself I could NOT research my injury, and instead spent time reading my Bible and completing Spanish lessons in DuoLingo. I eventually got drowsy and went back to sleep, but even at that, I ended up with only about five and a half hours of sleep, which is not enough, especially for recovery from an injury. Sunday night, I took Advil and Tylenol again to sleep, and went to bed early. I vowed not to get up early, but rather to try to sleep and see if I could rehab myself in time for my race.

What followed was a week of trying to see if I could run, find myself in pain, and end up walking. After days of researching, I finally settled on what I thought was my condition: high hamstring tendinopathy (the bruised feeling was what clued me in), and what I read wasn't good (Louw, 2025). It is hard to heal, long lasting, and gets worse with both speed and distance. Great. There went my speed goals, for sure, and maybe the race. I knew it would be grace if I got to run, and grace if I didn't. The Lord had to be Lord of it all, or Lord of none of it all [a loose paraphrase of Hudson Taylor's famous quote (Moore, 2018)]. I wrote in my daily devotional journal on Wednesday:

God could be gracious to me to let me run, even if not race like I’d hoped. Or He could be gracious to let me start and not finish. Or He could be gracious to not allow the pain to dissipate for me to be able to run (or somehow otherwise bar be from running). God, you are always gracious, and have shown that to me time and time again, as well as through thousands of years of biblical history. Let me not forget it!

I did Nourish Move Love's mobility routine daily (Bomgren, 2021). I took my collagen. I bought KT tape (well, off-brand), and tried taping my hamstring, and then my groin. Things seemed to be getting a little better Wednesday, the day by which we would need to cancel our hotel, and we decided to still go on our trip. (Well, my husband heavily recommended that we go, even if I could not run. I was not keen on this idea, but we both did want to get away.) Thursday, though, things felt worse. I ended up carrying a cushion to my off-site workplace in hopes that I could abate the effects of sitting on the hard chairs there. It was a discouraging week.

After all my studies, I found a PDF about high hamstring tendinopathy on Thursday, and decided to try some of the exercises, at least the pain relief ones, after work (Sports Medicine Institute, n.d.). Well, my 20 minute commute from offsite turned into an hour due to highway closure. If I wanted to get sleep, that cut out a lot of my evening. Every day, I wanted to quit my carb load, and this night I was so angry and just wanted to throw in the towel and scrap the carb load and the whole race, but I didn't. I crammed in more carbs, slotted in a few PT exercises, and hoped that I had what I needed packed. Normally, I would have spent the week studying the course, double-checking packing, etc. Not this time.

Packet pickup:

I woke up Friday with lyrics from the song, “He is with us” by Love & the Outcome (2013) running through my head:

"We can trust our God
He knows what He's doing
Though it might hurt now
We won't be ruined"

My pain felt okay, and with some home, we left Mesa about 10:30 AM on Friday morning. (We needed to wait for one load of laundry to finish so that I could have socks and underwear. That I remembered I hadn't packed!) We headed straight for Shiprock, as packet pickup was only until 7 PM. We rolled in about 6 PM (with the time change, we had added an hour), and parked in the very dusty lot to walk over to the packet pickup tent. I was pleasantly surprised to receive not only my bib, but also a Shiprock bag, poster, cup coozie, sticker, sweat towel, disposable cup, and t-shirt. I did panic a little when I saw the disposable cup and heard that the race was cupless, though. I am sure the race registration e-mails told me that, but I had been frantically looking for ways to rehab my injury and had not studied up. Had I really recognized that the race was cupless, I probably would have brought my running pack and fluids. Oh well. I did not have them and I would need to figure out another way to hydrate.

The Night Before:

We stayed at a Marriott Townplace in Farmington, New Mexico, about 45 minutes from the race. It was quite a nice setup, small and compact, but very adequate! I felt especially excited about the refrigerator for all the food I brought, a microwave for the heating pack I had been using to help my pain, and a toaster for my pre-race bagel.

The time flew by as I unloaded and we got set-up. (Thanks, time change.) While laying out my flat runner, I discovered that I brought capris instead of the running shorts I planned to wear. That was no good, as the pants did not have the side pockets I needed for gels. Without my running pack, I had no where else to put them. Thankfully, I had brought a pair of shorts to wear home, and since they had pockets, I was able to sub those in.

When snack time came, I did not feel ready to eat more carbs, but I told myself I would regret it if I skipped my carb-load and bonked the race on that factor. Plus, poor nutrition would only further hurt my injury. While I did not get in the 30 oz of extra fluid that I should have when carb loading, I am proud that I got in the minimum carbs (Featherstun, 2022). I had to count my blessings!

I was in bed by 9 or 9:15 PM and slept okay, though not well. (Please, people, ask your children to be quiet coming into hotel hallways late at night.) I got really, really warm at some point (maybe trying to burn off all those carbs?). I kept waking up, and I know at least once, I read 3:30 AM on my watch.

Race Morning:

I had taken Advil and Tylenol each night until Thursday, and Friday, I took it morning and night. My leg felt the best it had, and I debated about whether or not I should take Advil and Tylenol again race morning. This is documented to NOT be good for you, and carries some big risks. I wanted to finish this race, though, and once again, I didn't want to wonder what would happen if I veered off my routine. So I decided to take it [having read a few stories of success on Reddit—admittedly not the best place for advice, but I was desperate ([deleted], 2024). First, though, the whole PT routine: for my arm/hand and now my leg.

I wasn't the fastest at getting ready, but that was part of why I decided on 4:30 instead of 5:00 AM for my wakeup. I dawdled. I did all the PT. I toasted my bagel. I heated my Cherapy wrap (Cherapy, n.d.). By 5:15 AM, we were downstairs to get coffee (and mix in my RNWY) and get in the car (with my heating pack and toasted bagel in tow).

We drove another 45 minutes back to Shiprock. The moon was beautiful. We got to drive across the old bridge we had seen coming in. At about 5:50 AM, I started in on my bagel and coffee. I also took that Advil and Tylenol. Out of shame, I announced to my husband that I had done so. He told me that was what I had decided to do, and I should stop talking about it.

At about 6:15 AM, we arrived back in the dusty parking lot (seriously, my only complaint about the whole race), and I got out to photograph the sunrise, but then got back in to sit until 6:30 AM. With a low of 43 degrees and wind, it felt very cold outside! At 6:30 AM, I got out and used the bathroom for the first time. Lines were short, probably because there were less than 300 people starting the marathon at 7 AM. I went back and sat in the car until 6:45 AM, at which point I did an 0.7 mile warmup. (This was my birthday race, so at least the last digits could total my new age of 38: 13.1 + 0.7 = 13.8). I felt my hamstring/groin muscle some, but it was bearable, less than a 3 on the 1-10 pain scale. If I could keep things there, I thought the race would be manageable. I did run that warm-up at an 11:00 mile pace, though. I reminded myself that I had changed my goals:

1) Start.
2) Finish.
3) Finish under two hours.

I used the bathroom again at 7 AM, and then 7:10 AM. At 7:15, I lined up.

Race day conditions:

As stated previously, the low was 43. The high was 71. With some winds, the starting temp was closer to the mid-30's. I wore a windbreaker and gloves while waiting. I also stood in the sun, which helped kept me warmer. I planned to ditch the jacket and gloves, but almost didn't, as I lost my husband as I moved to the start line. Thanks to texting, he found me, and I was able to pass them off. While we waited, we heard the drum circles. A lady sang the national anthem in Navajo. The experience was moving.
Not sure how my race would go, and stuffed with carbs, I forewent the 15 minute pre-race gel. I figured I would just go out, fueling at 30 minute increments, and hope for the best. I took with me a 16 ounce water bottle to which I had affixed a squirt cap. (Thanks, Jess Tonn McClain for making this suggestion on some podcast I listened to long ago, and can no longer locate.) The water spilled a little, but the bottle was lightweight, and I figured I could ditch it once I finished it.

Course:

While I had briefly looked at the course when I registered, I had not paid it much attention. I asked my husband to help me figure it out as we sat in the parking lot. What I did not want to do was go the wrong way! He helped me see it was out-and-back, basically up the road a ways, and then back down. Easy enough, or so it seemed. I knew there would be a little bit of elevation change, but it was sneaky.

Miles 1-3:

The Navajo first lady said some words. A lady prayed in English. A man prayed in Navajo. There was a moment of silence for a runner who died in a car accident two days prior (and I was frustrated about my injury). That gave me perspective.

The announcer counted down. I started my watch, and we were off, out the Shiprock Youth Center parking lot and onto the road. I wanted to go out fast, and I did, with a start in the 7:50 range—which is where I would have wanted to be sans injury. That hill crept up on me quick, though. I felt some pain coming on at mile 3 and told myself to try to widen my stride to see if it helped. It did, and I kept going.

Miles 4-6:

The steady uphill continued. I took my first gel, a Hammer vanilla, at exactly 30 minutes, sipped some water, and tried to keep going. While I wanted to enjoy the scenery, I have to admit that I did not do a great job of that. I was very focused on how much my leg hurt, or didn't, and if I could finish. I tried to remember my “why” for running, my Granddad, who had worked as a missionary on the Navajo reservation, and a dear family I wanted to come to know the Lord.

The course veered right at about 6 miles. I told myself I only had 0.2 to go. No, that would be incorrect. I had 0.7 to go. I wondered why I was going so far and thought about turning around, and then reminded myself that I cannot do math in my head, and that this course was USATF certified, so I should run the course as marked.

Several men had passed me by this point, and I thought maybe, maybe, I could still place in the top female group. While I felt a little sad as I counted the women ahead of me, I told myself my goal was to finish.

Miles 7-10:

I took another gel at 60 minutes, this time a Hammer chocolate. I still had water left, and told myself to sip it. By this time, the pain in my left leg/groin had abated some, and my right quad had started to really hurt, like almost marathon hurt. I told myself to hold on and make it to the last gel, a GU birthday cake one, and 5K to go. I was averaging 8:38-8:40/mile here. People passed me. I just had to let it go. I did see who I think was the Navajo first lady here, though. She was dressed in a beautiful skirt and had a police escort on a bike with her. Seeing her made me smile. She had said in her opening words that running was good for community and mental health, and here she was proving that.

Miles 11-13.1:

I just kept going. I hurt, but I wanted to finish. And I had known it would hurt. At least two men passed me as the downhill cascaded. I did see the Philippians 4:13 sign I had seen on the way up, though. I recited that verse as I got to 1-2 miles to go: “I can do all things through, Christ who strengthens me” (New International Version, 2011). I did pass one lady in these final miles, and I tried to encourage her to keep going.

I managed a surge for the last mile or so. [Side note, but I really think GU might be a better gel for me, as the sugar DOES spike my blood sugar, giving me more energy, versus the steady Hammer maltodextrin. See discussion in Episode 130 of Fuel for the Sole (Featherstun, Neuberger, & Murray, 2026)]. I squeezed out a 7:46 for mile 13 and 7:26 for the last 0.1 mile. I am thankful for, and proud of that.

Navajo royalty (maybe their beauty queens?) handed out the medals. I didn't look long at the little girl who gave me my medal, but I glanced back later, and she was still there handing out medals in her native dress. The people of this race really were servants—volunteers working with smiles on their faces, and cheerful and encouraging words all around.

After the Race:

Fortunately, I found my husband pretty quickly after crossing the finish line. (They did announce my name and that I was from Mesa, which was cool.) I immediately wanted water, and a massage. I found a sports drink, then water, and went for the massage. I had to sign a waiver to not sue the volunteers, but why would I do that? While waiting in line, I talked to one of the men who had passed me. He shared that he was training for wildland firefighting. I told him about why that mattered to me (the Granite Mountain 19), and about Kellyn Taylor. He didn't remember the Granite Mountain 19 until I got quite into the story, and didn't know Kellyn Taylor at all. I guess I am a running nerd!

I had two to four women working on me for the 10 minute (free!) massage, and they were so sweet. They gently rubbed my legs and arms with massage oil to promote blood flow. They kindly took off my shoes and massaged my feet and legs with a massage gun. They really did a great job, and I think the gentle promotion of blood flow helped (though I still felt so sore)!

Despite being a cupless event, there were LOTS of tables. I may have gone a little overboard taking one of most everything, but hey, I was going to be hungry (maybe sometime) and wanted to be prepared. I got nuts, and bars, and trail mix and fruit. They also had hamburgers and hot dogs. I really didn't feel like eating, so gave my hamburger to my husband (MVP cheerleader and bag carrier, as usual!).

I heard they had free medal engraving and tried to figure out where to do that. I went to the timing tent and almost skipped the line, but then realized I needed that official time for engraving, so I waited. Fortunately, it really did not take long.

When I got my tiny time sticker, the man said, “You got third in your age group. Make sure you stop by the medal tent.”

“Really?” I thought. “Wow!” My time was 1:53:02, my slowest yet since returning the the half marathon in 2024, but whatever. I didn't care. I gladly received my 3rd place medal, had my husband take more pictures of me with it, and went to the engraving tent.

In front of the engraving tent sat a table with half sheets lying on it. The sheets instructed runners to list what they wanted on three lines of engraving. I thought about it for a while. I wondered about space. Could they engrave my bigger third place medal? I decided on my time, the verse associated with the butterfly I had drawn on my wrist (2 Corinthians 5:17), and who I ran for. The laser engraving was pretty quick, and we were off.

The car was already very dusty, inside and out, from sitting in the parking lot, but I was now massage oil greasy, and dusty. I had my husband help me use the car seat cover we got from the Fresh 15 to protect our seats. (Some niche items really come in handy in a pinch.)

It was forty-five minutes back to the hotel. I'd already had one bottle of water and a protein bar. I forced down an apple and another bottle of water. I didn't feel hungry, but knew I needed to eat. On the way home, I pondered how to share the results of my race with my family. I settled on:

On a wing and a prayer (and far more Advil than I should have taken)...
—
“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new” (2 Cor 5:17).
—
For Granddad, and for those whom I long to know Jesus and become new creations in Christ.
I teared up thinking about my Granddad and clients. I had done this. I had raced for them. I was SO thankful!

I indeed felt very sore after the race. The right quad pain eased up some, but the left hamstring/groin/tendon pain hurt worse! I knew this was my doing, though. I had chosen to run, and I would pay the price.

Back in the room, I unpacked my snacks. Yes, I got a lot of them, but they would help carry us home. I stretched and foam rolled. I showered. We slid out at 12:10 PM and headed for home.

Final Thoughts:

It's Monday now. I still hurt. (I did stop taking the Advil and Tylenol.) I went to the doctor, and she ordered x-rays. We will see if they show anything. In the meantime, I made an appointment to return to physical therapy next week (the soonest they could get me in). 

Thankfully, I can walk with only a little limp, but I can barely run even a mile (and that in pain). How I managed to run 13.1 miles on Saturday is truly amazing. While I might not should have run this race, since the Lord allowed me to do so, I am going to give Him all thanks, honor, and glory and praise His great grace.

References:

Bomgren, L. (2021, June 23). 10-minute dynamic stretching + mobility workout |SplitStrong 35 Day 9 [Video]. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nlH6pyo1nSI&list=PLpa0d6IJAhbjlpUpLtgGi0k1maJ70hoPS&index=10

Carroll, C. (2019, July 23). 6 week half marathon training schedule. Snacking in sneakers. https://www.snackinginsneakers.com/6-week-half-marathon-training-schedule/

Cherapy. (n.d.). https://www.cherapy.com/

Featherstun, M. (2022). Race nutrition planning guide. Featherstone nutrition. https://www.featherstonenutrition.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/10/Featherstone-Nutrition-Race-Nutrition-Planning-Guide.pdf

Featherstun, M., Neuberger, T., & Murray, M. (2026, April 21). Oral iron strips, UCAN alternatives, runner's colitis and Grand Canyon nutrition (no. 130) [Audio podcast episode]. In Fuel for the sole. https://believeintherun.com/podcasts/fuel-for-the-sole-ep-130-oral-iron-strips-ucan-alternatives-runners-colitis-and-more/

[deleted]. (2024). Has anyone taken ibuprofen or any painkillers during or before a marathon? [Online forum post] Reddit. https://www.reddit.com/r/Marathon_Training/comments/1fgap3d/has_anyone_taken_ibuprofen_or_any_painkillers/?solution=855a370445d3726b855a370445d3726b&js_challenge=1&token=bbbe4bf1c9a2b5160829c4be34da5861f43b808c48f3cd8cd4f8a66411b97e54&jsc_orig_r=

Louw, M. (2025, August 15). Running with proximal hamstring tendinopathy—Tips to help recovery. Sports injury physio. https://www.sports-injury-physio.com/post/running-with-proximal-hamstring-tendinopathy-tips-to-help-recovery

Love & the Outcome. (2013). He is with us [Song]. On Love & the Outcome. Word entertainment.

Moore, B. (2018, April 3). Christ is either Lord of all, or is not Lord at all. Medium. https://medium.com/@benmooreblog/christ-is-either-lord-of-all-or-is-not-lord-at-all-4ea907cd7737

New International Version. (2011). BibleGateway.com. http://www.biblegateway.com/versions/New-International-Version-NIV-Bible/

Sports Medicine Institute. (n.d.). High hamstring tendinopathy. https://smiweb.org/wp-content/uploads/HighHamstringTendinopathy.pdf

Maybe That's What They Need, Too.

I feel such shame when I have emotional meltdowns. I wish they would not happen, especially with my husband whom I love so dearly. Most of the time, they are not his fault. He just gets the brunt of my nervous system going into collapse. Then, out of guilt and shame, I tend to stay away, ice him out, try to protect him from myself. There has to be a better way.

As we have navigated this season of hard and my many emotional struggles, I have come to the conclusion that maybe the best thing to do is not try to fight the meltdowns, but try to resolve them. Try to re-regulate as fast as possible and get back into relationship, because relationship is what co-regulates. Relationship is what heals. 

My husband has done a very gracious job of loving me through my emotions. He shows empathy and understanding. He accepts my apologies when I take things out on him. He loves me still.

And you know what? Maybe that's what those other people in my life need, too. Those other people with big emotional reactions to things. Those people who I think are doing me and those I love wrong. They're probably not trying to have outbursts, either. They're probably not doing anything intentionally, just like I'm not. Yes, if they sin, they should apologize, but that's between them and God. What's up to me is to allow them to come back, to show grace, to help them re-regulate, to invite them back into relationship.

Maybe that's what our world needs. Not a cover-up, but an acceptance of faults and flaws. An invitation to come back into fellowship to be loved. That's what God does. He never excuses our sin. He had to send Jesus to die for us! But he forgives again and again and again. He help right and re-right relationships. He offers an opportunity to learn a new way.

Learning a new way. That's what my husband is doing with me. That's what God does with me. Maybe that's what they need, too, those other people I've been so harsh to judge and even hate. God forgive me. I need your grace. That's what they need, too. 

Wasted?

My husband recently completed an experiment. He stuck a discarded carrot top in a pot of soil and watered it to see if it would grow. Lo and behold, it sprouted! After awhile, the sprouts died off. Whether that was due to poor growing conditions, lack of viability, inattention, or what, I don't know. That's besides the point. The point is that something grew.

I've been thinking about that carrot in terms of life. How often do the periods of our life that feel "wasted" actually produce growth? On the other hand, how often do we waste what seems meaningless or of no value? Take, for example, the time of being at home due to COVID-19 restrictions. Was it wasted?  It could be. Many of us, including me, spent too much time scrolling social media, laying around, being afraid, etc. in the early days. But then we had a choice: do something productive, or sit and stew. Some people were really productive, think small-business starting, home-organizing, amazing mom mavericks. I wasn't. In the space COVID-19 created, I did have some new realizations, however.

I realized the need I had for grace.  I realized how many little things I took for granted. I realized the privileges of using technology to communicate. I realized how my much my communication strategies still need work. I realized more how stress affects me and what I need to do up my self-care game. I realized that I was more tired and burned out than I thought. I realized that I need to ask for help just like the next person.

Was this "quarantine" season wasted? In some ways, it felt like it. I didn't get to do things I'd planned on doing for a long time. I was disappointed. I felt and still feel grief. But this was also a period of growth; a period of realizing what's essential, and what's not; a period of realizing I can make do with less than I think; a period of growth.

Is there waste in life? Certainly. But maybe there is less than we think. Maybe there are actually more opportunities for growth than we realize. Maybe we just need eyes to see them.

Give Yourself Some Grace (And Others, Too, While You're At It).

I know everybody’s like, “Be creative. Organize your pantry. Be productive. Do something during the shutdown." There are a plethora of posts about how to stock your pantry for a quarantine, how to home school your kids (when you weren't already a home school parent), how to clean out space, and what not. These resources are great, but I’m over here like, “I just want to relax. I don't need the extra pressure. I’ll cook with what I’ve got and what I can find at the stores. I’ll let the organizing go. I'll run slower (though I'm still keeping up with training distances while I can). I'll eat popcorn for dinner. I'll veg on the couch. I’ll welcome the slow down and change of pace."
If the how-to posts coming out like mad are helpful to you, great! Use those resources. But if like me, they create extra expectations and extra pressure, let them go. No use shaming yourself for just being right now, friends.

Let's give ourselves (and others) some grace right now. The world’s a scary place, so might as well be kind. Now might not be a time for new goals, or even keeping up with old ones (or maybe those goals are vital, sobriety or mental health recovery, for instance). Maybe now is a time to just live and let live. To be okay with extra messes from the kids in the living room. To let the closet organizing project go. To make an extra box of mac and cheese. To consume less fruits and vegetables. To sleep more and workout less . To watch some poor quality, not so great TV. To be with loved ones with no agenda. We as a nation need a slow-down. And painful as this situation is, maybe this is our opportunity. Let’s not waste it.

--
Meanwhile, let’s pray for and ask how we can support our medical and healthcare professionals. They need an extra measure of grace right now. They aren't getting this slow-down. They’re in a fight for their lives and the lives of our fellow man and have probably never had such stressful times. And when this has abated, or is all over, let’s figure out how to keep supporting them and help them have a break, because they’re going to need it!

I Don't Deserve This...

I've been overwhelmed with well-wishes, kind cards, and sweet sentiments in this season leading up to our wedding. Thank you to all who have encouraged us and prayed for us! Your words mean a lot.

In this time of well wishes, however, I sense a need to set something straight: I've done nothing to "deserve" Chris or marriage. At best, I've repented of my many sins and invited the Holy Spirit to do His ongoing work of sanctification in my life. I've committed to follow the Lord and tried to honor Him with my life. At worst, I've moaned and groaned. I've lamented the life God has given me. I've been discontent. I've complained. I've questioned God to the point of borderline doubting His sovereignty. I've been jealous and angry and bitter. The thing I really deserve is God's righteous wrath. To say I deserve anything else would be improper theology. And to say I deserve the blessing of marriage because of the way I've lived would be to tell all my beautiful single friends that they're not doing something right. I refuse.

I am an imperfect person. Chris is an imperfect person. But God, in His grace, has brought us two imperfect sinners to the cusp of a union that can  conform us individually and corporately into the image of Christ. That's a blessing. That's a privilege. And it's a blessing and privilege that can only come from God and that will take God's infinite power to make it work.

I don't deserve any of this...but God. God deserves everything. To Him be ALL glory!

Trusting Jesus More

"Trust and obey, for there’s no other way to be happy in Jesus, but to trust and obey."

~John H. Sammis, "Trust and Obey"

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight."

~Proverbs 3:5-6, New International Version

"'Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus, just to take Him at His Word. Just to rest upon His promise, just to know, 'Thus saith the Lord!'"

~William J. Kirkpatrick, "'Tis So Sweet To Trust in Jesus"

My closest friends and family know that I've had a saying, "There's always a reason to trust Jesus" for quite some time. And man is that ever true! I think I'm dealing with fear and coping well with life, and then around the corner comes another area where I need to trust Jesus. And I don't like it.

Work stress, and life busyness, and engagement, and wedding planning all at once have recently brought to light many areas where I need to trust. I wonder, "When will the struggle to trust be over?" But then I remember that life is a gift, that struggles are gifts, for struggles cause us to fall upon the grace of Jesus.

"Jesus, Jesus, how I trust Him! How I've proved Him o'er and o'er. Jesus, Jesus, precious Jesus!

Oh, for grace to trust Him more!"

~William J. Kirkpatrick, "'Tis So Sweet To Trust in Jesus"

May Jesus be glorified as I, a fallen human, learn to trust Him more.

Lessons Learned from a Power Outage

It had been an exciting day, and I had my evening all planned out. I was going to research a few things on the internet, take a hot shower, eat a nice leisurely snack while reading the newspaper, and go to bed early or on time (a novelty these days). And then the power went out.

I was ticked. Power is a first world luxury, but I wanted it, needed it. I felt angry about having to walk around the house use my cell phone as a flash light. (I was blessed the phone was charged.) I felt disgruntled that I couldn't use internet. I wanted light for my shower. I felt I deserved my routine after the busyness of the day. I felt I needed that nightly set of habits to be safe. In my anger and frustration, I even prayed for the power to come back on. It didn't.

I obsessively checked the power outage map on my cell phone. It said power restoration at 12:24 am, but would update every five minutes. I checked every five minutes, or less. No changes. I debated not taking a shower, but decided against it. I needed a shower, even if it wasn't how I wanted it. The Spirit convicted me that I was looking to earthly things for comfort when God was my comfort. Things therefore, weren't going to change.

So I took my shower, got my snack, and started trying to read the newspaper by hurricane lamp. I put my phone away. I didn't finish my internet research. Finally, I got to a place where I was almost content. And then right before I went to bed, the power came back on. That was a blessing, as I rely on a box fan for white noise, and I needed power for that. But to be honest, I was a bit miffed. I lost "my evening" for the power outage, and now I really needed to go to bed. So I tried to cultivate a spirit of thanksgiving and gratitude and go to sleep.

I think I'm seeking the Lord, walking in His ways, and relying on Him, and then little things show me I'm not. Oh, how I need the grace of God, every hour, every minute, every breath. He's my Power Source.

Life is Full.

Life is full. Life is messy. Life is busy. And at the same time, life is rich.

There are so many layers to life right now that I can't quite figure them all out. Sometimes I feel unexplicably happy and grateful. Sometimes I'm just tired, emotionally tired, and I don't know why. Sometimes I'm sad. Sometimes I'm grumpy. Sometimes I'm all of the above.

In it all, I'm just trying to show up. I'm trying to learn to be present. I'm trying to soak up this season because it will pass and soon I'll be on to the next one.

“Be messy and complicated and afraid and show up anyway,” Glennon Doyle Melton says. By God's grace and the Holy Spirit's power, that's what I'm trying to do.

Repressed Feelings

I work with children in the behavioral health field. Something we talk about time and time again are seasons and how they affect kids. We often find that kids get dysregulated around certain times of year, not because of the times of year specifically, but because of the things associated with those times of year. Guess what? Adults are the same way!

I've had several times recently where I've found myself unknowingly upset about something. I've despaired about a move, even though it was exciting. I've been sad around a holiday, even though there is no sadness this year. I've felt trapped by weather, even though I'm not actually trapped. In each case, the emotions I felt were associated not with the actual events or seasons, but were brought up by associations with previous events and seasons. I've had moves that were traumatic. I've had sad holidays. I've been trapped by snow, tornadoes, and other tumultuous weather. The brain is a powerful machine, and the external stimuli associated with current events are bringing up unpleasant feelings associated with past events.

Why do I share all this? Because I think a lot of us have feelings that upset us. We judge ourselves for the feelings without realizing where they might be coming from. We think we should be past the past and we give ourselves no grace to feel the way we do. And in so doing, we miss the change to reprocess times and seasons of our lives so that they might become good again.

So in this new year, if you have some unpleasant feelings, I encourage you to acknowledge them, to sit with them, and to see if you can find out where they come from. If you can, process those feelings. Let yourself feel them. And then resolve to redeem the current seasons and events. And if you don't know where the feelings come from, still let yourself feel them. Let yourself grieve. And then move on. This is the way to authentic living, to living in the moment, to feeling the joy, even if there is some associated pain.

How The Fifteen Minute Rule Is Helping Me Give Myself Grace

I have a new rule for life: the 15 minute rule. It started as our rule for work appointments. We wait 15 minutes, and if you come in 15 minutes, great! Otherwise, we cancel the appointment.

I don't cancel on life if I'm 15 minutes late, but if I get to something within 15 minutes, I count it as a win. I'm specifically using the 15 minute rule for bedtime. I've been onto myself for not getting to bed on time, but I rarely ever make that time. So I've decided to give myself 15 minutes from that set time, and if I get in bed by then, I congratulate myself. So far, it's working.

The 15 minute rule is a way to give myself grace, with limits. It's not a free-for-all. It doesn't mean I can purposely dilly-dally. But it allows me to give myself a little wiggle-room and less stress.

This rule obviously doesn't apply to all life things. I need to leave for work on time, get to work on time, go to the doctor at the scheduled appointment time, etc. But when it comes to non-essentials, like bedtimes and exercise times and preferred deadlines, it works.

Shauna Niequist wrote on Instagram a while back, “Six weeks. Give it six weeks. Extra grace, patience, and understanding for all parties for six weeks.”

I'm revising: “Fifteen minutes. Give it 15 minutes. Extra grace, patience, and understanding for all parties for 15 minutes.”

Grace with accountability. I like it.

Shades of Gray

I'm so tired of the polarization of society. I'm so tired of hearing people labeled as saints or Satan. Seriously! Can't we see that life exists in shades of gray? People are not all good or all bad! We are all created in the image of God, and all of our hearts are deceitful (Jer 17:9).

If I channel my Brene Brown and reflect on her book Braving the Wilderness, I'd say that the root issue of this polarization of society is fear. It's easier to pigeonhole people and label them than it is to accept that people are fallible, that they might disagree with us, that we might disagree with them. It is easier to see people as stagnant than as capable of growth, because then we might have to grow. 

Truth always exists, and there is a place for confronting lies and telling things like they are. But seriously, can we not let some things go?  I'm not saying we all have to agree. I just wish we could all get along and have some grace and appreciation of one another and our differences. I wish we could be authentic and genuine with one another without fear of recoil or backlash or getting sued for goodness' sake!

As a former black-and-whiter, I still have strong beliefs and preferences, especially when it comes to my faith in Jesus for salvation. But I don't want a Bible-basher, a polarizer, a labeler, a pigeon-holer. Rather, I want to see people as the intricately wonderfully created people they are, people capable of good and evil, people capable of growth and change and redemption. 

I know who I am. I know Whose I am. I don't need to be afraid. Because of that, I'm making an effort to see people in shades of gray,and the world in shades of color, for much of the beauty of life lies there.

Amazing

Someone told me recently that I'm pretty amazing. It was a nice compliment and one I really appreciated. But I had to caveat my reply by saying it's taken me a long time to get here.

I would never wish my struggles or pain or trauma or life experiences on anyone. I should also say that I haven't experienced a lot of the pains of life that others I know have. But my experiences are my experiences and I don't believe in comparing. God allowed me to my trials and took me through them, and I am SO thankful, but they still hurt.

Those who know me well know I've struggled with perfectionism and self hatred and self destruction. Those who have walked with me for a time know how hard it's been for me to focus on pleasing God instead of pleasing others. Those who've been in my life have watched me as I've fought to be honest with myself and others about what's really going on. They've seen me scream and cry and withdraw and fight. They've seen me struggle and stumble and grow.

I am where I am because of a ton of God's marvelous grace that I didn't deserve. I'm here because God saw fit to preserve my life even when I didn't see a purpose for it. I'm here because a lot of people fought for me by going to their knees. I'm here because of a lot of people who loved me when I was very unlovable.

Yes, I've had to put in some work of my own in this life, too. I've had to be accountable and go to therapy and practice self-discipline and confront sin and ask for help. But all I've done and the person I am really aren't what I'd call amazing. God's the amazing one and He gets ALL the glory! 

Grace in a Broken Cup

I broke Dad's favorite coffee cup, like the one he uses every day. It was an accident! I'd washed the cup and left it drying on a tine of the dish rack. When I tried to pull it off to put it away, it slipped out of my hands and fell into the cast iron sink. Voila! The cup went into two large pieces and a thousand tiny shards.

When I told Dad what I'd done, he was like, "The cup I use every day?"

I was like, "Yeah, the black one."

"Oh well." That was all he said. He could condemned me, gotten upset, berated me, or even asked me to replace the cup (which I later did, because I wanted to), but he didn't. He let it go.

I, on the other hand, had a hard time letting go. I questioned what I could have and should have done differently. I was tired and exhausted and needed to go to bed, but found myself wanting to do penance. I wanted to order a new cup right then, or read extra Bible verses, or somehow otherwise punish myself. But I realized I had a choice. I could beat myself up or forgive myself. I could move on, or or I could stay stuck. I chose to move on.

I took my shower that night, read the newspaper, ate my snack, and went to bed as per usual routine. I woke up the next morning and ordered a new cup that not coincidentally said on it, "Best Dad Ever." And life went on.

Being shown grace necessitates that I show it to others, even to myself. Dad's grace wouldn't have done much good had I not it to myself. And I wouldn't know grace had I no need for it. Perhaps grace flows best through broken vessels.

I'm linking up with Amanda at Running with Spoons for this Thinking Out Loud post. 

Living in the Shadow of the Fire

For those of you that haven't seen the news, there's a BIG fire near us, the Goodwin Fire. We hear see fire bombers fly overhead constantly. We see water tankers, fire trucks, and cop cars flooding the highways. The air is heavy with smoke. Our community hasn't been evacuated yet, but multiple communities around us have. I vigilantly checking the internet to determine the size of the fire, the progress made on fighting it, and the latest evacuation news. It's nerve-wracking. Everyone is extra edgy and extra quick to snap, show anger, or even explode.

I've gotten to thinking that this might be what it's like to live with a chronic mental illness, to be constantly edgy, to worry about the doom of an impending relapse, to live in the light of a monster. Maybe this is taking things too far, being too metaphorical, but I think it's an important idea to consider. When we see people acting a bit “off,” are we curious about the reasons behind their edginess? Do we have compassion and empathy for what their situation might be, or do we just judge them? Do we show extra patience towards individuals we know who struggle with mental illness or some other looming life issue? Or do we hold them to high, unattainable, unreasonable standards? Do we focus on ourselves and our fears, or look towards others who might be struggling? Do we practice legalism, or practice grace?

Everybody is dealing with something, be it an environmental issue (like a natural disaster), or a mental illness, or a child who is suffering. Practice extra patience. Show grace. Extend love and care. You fight fire with retardant, water, and trailblazing, not with more fire.