A Street Called Glory, April 26

Yesterday, the 25^th, I went for a long run after returning from a women’s retreat with church. In one of the main sessions the speaker described glory. Naturally. I liked her definition, “abundant goodness, beauty”. But she didn’t talk about God being abundantly good or beautiful. She said I was. Me. And that God gets to enjoy me. Really God? I just thought only I could enjoy Him. Like the catechism says.

To think that God, whom we are taught is big, powerful, almighty, that this God enjoys listening to me, laying beside the lake at Friendship Park with me, driving with me, sitting with me at the baseball game, that gave me a new look at glory.

I imagine a father watching his child do the things she loves and soaking in every moment they get to be together. I dunno, have you had those moments? I’ve talked about them before, the kind where time stands still, and you just take it all in. That’s what I think of.

And to think that God enjoys me… that blows my mind. I think He’s just a lot like me, too busy to sit down. To sit down on the front porch in the rockin’ chairs, drinking a real coke from a glass bottle, watching the sunset together. I kinda hope heaven is a bit like that.

When I think that life is about me enjoying God and God enjoying me, I think I let go a little bit of all the things I desperately cling to. Like having my future planned out til I cease to exist.

Which reminds me, I remember blogging about quitting my job. Surprise…I’m not. I’m going from full time to very part time. But check this out, I’m signing myself up for another job not related to ministry. My passions have always been faith, teens, and horses, and I’ve experienced working in a setting that puts the first two together. What if I took time to enjoy my third passion? One that seems so counterproductive to the world…training horses. But what if God created me in hopes of being a Father who gets to watch his child do what she loves: being with some of the most beautiful animals this earth has to offer.

What if there’s glory in something not outwardly God-related? I’ve mentioned it before, the road to glory doesn’t promise safety or security, but it will be worth it, to leave many things behind, in the pursuit of enjoying God and letting Him enjoy me.

A Street Called Glory, April 23

I haven’t had too much time to go running lately. And honestly, I haven’t really wanted to. I kind of feel guilty because I have this great street that is always waiting for me, and I get too busy to go visit it and just be there and enjoy it like I used to.

The times I did run, I just wanted to get “through it”. I was thinking, Here I am God. How much sooner can I turn around and be done? Sad. Because I was so excited about seeing it day to day when I first discovered it.

Then that got me wondering…what does that say about our culture? I think this is a trend of how we live. We just go from one thing, when we get bored of it, we go to the next. And what does this reflect about our faith? Any thoughts? Or am I the only one noticing this?

A Street Called Glory, Day 24, April 18th

Shannon in the middle.

Cold, wet, rain. But I still wanted to run. It’s been several days since I’ve had the chance to run out any anxiety. And that’s been miserable. I’ve had long conversations with myself, inviting God in on a few, too. Instead of walking down the street and crying out, I’ve had to sit on the couch and mentally wrestle with my anxiety. There’s something psychological about running and thinking through things. Maybe it puts my body into a physical and mental rhythm that equal in pace: fast. Who knows.

Glory came to me in a big way today, but it wasn’t on my running trail. I got to watch my church act in compassion and love. One of my favorite ladies at church went to Hawaii with her husband for their anniversary. They had just sold their house so when they got back from their trip they were going to have to move all of their stuff into the new home right away.

Shannon and her husband have served the church and individuals, including me, in more ways than one could imagine…whether providing groceries for those in need, babysitting for the young moms needing a break, to mentoring others in the church, and teaching fifth grade and high school Sunday school. This family means a lot to everyone, but they are so humble and selfless.

Yesterday, I watched, and sort of helped, as the youth group, church members and our life group moved EVERYTHING from the old house to the new one while Shannon and her husband were away. They had no clue. And it involved some funny stories. Calling the real estate agent, convincing the movers to move everything a few days early. Even they had fun listening to our stories about how this family has served their church and friends.

Today, Shannon and Brian came home, with all of us hiding in their newly furnished and decorated home. It was a cool experience, to watch how excited we all were to show our love to this family. We had the chance to tell them what they meant to us and show them. It was like time stood still as I took it all in: this is what the Bible means when it calls the church a “body” of people with the same mindset.

I watched the children running through the house giggling, the teens hanging out talking and laughing, the adults catching up on each others’ lives, and Brian and Shannon’s faces of shock and tears of joy. This was glory, and I know God was in the middle of it, laughing with us, doing life with us, loving this family with us. I hope I have this kind of community wherever I end up. This is the kind of love that keeps people going in life.

A Street Called Glory, Day 22, April 16th

Injured again. No running. Whhyyyy. Oh right, because, like in life, I feel like I have to go hard or go home. Which ends up with me injured or burned out.

When I’m going to actually live life as a marathon and not a sprint, I don’t know. But tonight everything slowed down for 5 hours at Highland Park Methodist Church. Friday nights the church has what’s called Night Owls from 6-10p where parents can bring their children with special needs and their siblings to the church. This gives the parents a much needed date night and break. This is such a high need that some drive an hour to this church to bring their children.

My friend Erin and I were assigned to play with the most precious five year old boy in the world! Jordan had blond hair, with a bowl cut, freckles, blue eyes…I was in love. He was developmentally delayed due to his syndrome, but he captured my heart! He looked like a little man because he would stand and put one hand in his pocket and talk to the ladies with his lisp.

All of this was definitely out of my comfort zone: small children and disabilities.

I think these children and the volunteers that spend their time with them are the ones who truly get life

When I read Psalm 12, one I’ve been reading over and over, and I think about tonight, it seems contradictory for me to say, “The godly are fast disappearing”. The volunteers exemplified the love of God: they loved these children, and loved them well. No expectation of anything in return.

Isn’t this the definition of God? A few of the kids were in wheel chairs, unable to move or communicate-at all. But the volunteers wheeled them around for hours, stroked their hands, rubbed their hair, and just loved them. They were present with them.

I confess, I thought, “Why? These children don’t know what’s even going on. What’s the use?”

I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these, you have done for me.-Jesus

With that gentle reminder and Psalm 12 in front of me, this crossed my mind, “The children...are they godly too?” I think of godly people as those who are older, wiser, smarter. But Jordan? What about him? My definition of “godly” started to change. I don’t think it means pious, smart, old. I think it means loving, compassionate, simple, full of joy.

This is Jordan. Oh that we would all learn to love and smile like this precious child. To have his gentility and humility. It’s not a wonder that he’s one of the favorites in the program.

Glory came in the depiction of child named Jordan. He gave me a deeper view of God’s compassion, love, simplicity. I didn’t feel sorry for him. I felt love and wanted to hold him. Sadly, I was afraid, and didn’t know how.

I think we all need something like this, to keep our feet on the ground. To realize that we may call these children “simple” or “the least of these” but they are here to teach us it is we who are simple minded, short sighted, and in need of grace, in need of a lesson of loving and living well.

A Street Called Glory, Day 21, April 15th

Back to running. No injuries today. I woke up at the butt crack of dawn to make sure I had time to visit my street before any distractions got between us. No revelations today. And I was kind of glad. Just solitude and peace. A rarity.

And I had the chance later today to take one of my roommates to Glory Lane. On our way there and back we talked about our lives, our pasts, our futures. I think I could make this a part time job. Walking people to this street, just listening to them talk. Like that Kleenex commercial with the sofa on the sidewalk and the person who just sits there with tissues listening to others tell their stories.

After the walk, we sat in the back of my little suv, playing music from my ipod, and watching the sunset. For once my roommate was quiet. And it felt good to let time stand still. I didn’t really think about much either. I just sat. And my roommate did the same. I think she may have needed that. And I was glad to provide the opportunity. I hope wherever I am or whatever I do I can teach people to slow down and live in each and every moment fully present.

A Street Called Glory, Day 20, April 14th

The street called Glory found itself in a different spot today. In the form of sharing my stories with a spiritual mentor. I told of the stories of people I loved, people I’d lay my life down for. What they meant to me. A hard thing to do, and it had not been done without tears.

“Nouwen talks about how in some of our deepest darkest times, we aren’t looking for advice. Or to be consoled. But that we are looking for those who will sit with us and are present during those times, and when they do, we feel closer to them than family. That’s what you’ve done for me. You were my ally, my advocate during the hardest time when I had nobody. I would lay down my life for you. And your family. Because you love them.”

And I meant it. That moment, that moment was one of glory. We were both silent. Taking it all in, that our stories had intersected in providential ways, and it all pointed to a green sign with white letters: Glory.

A Street Called Glory, Day 19, April 13th

I actually had the chance to go back to the street today, injured, but walking. But this time with a friend. I wondered how this would go. Should I tell her my story? Would she think it really weird?

We had to beat dusk, so we walked quickly. I ended up telling her my story, of how I found my treasured gem. I felt like a kid on Christmas, reliving it before her, but trying not to give away what we were going to see.

She’s not one for eloquent words, so when she said, “Oh…niiiice!” I knew she thought it was as cool as I did when I first saw it. I told her how we chase glory but in all the wrong places.

She had her own revelation to point out too, the 6’ tall fences on the edge of the street, “And we build walls to keep it out, especially any of it dealing with God.” Yeah, she’s right. We can be right next to something glorious, God, nature, others’ stories, but we build walls and block it out, missing out on a lot of really cool things.

When she shared her own revelation on the street called Glory, I realized she’d probably been down this street before. Maybe not this exact one, no, because this was my street. And actually, once we left it, she began to tell me about her road. Her story. She had been redefining love, like I did that day I went down Loving Trail. Like I’m still doing. We realized our stories connected in a lot of ways. Providential ways, not enough room for irony or coincidence.

If my life could be about how our lives intersect with each others’ and how Glory holds them together, I might call that Heaven.

A Street Called Glory, Day 19, April 13th

Injured. So I can’t go back to my street. I can’t run. And it would be nice because I’m still furious. That I have so much to deal with. And the one thing that clears my head I can’t do. Probably not ironic. Which makes me more angry. I guess that’s why I write. It helps diffuse some of it. Then I picture myself at the edge of a canyon yelling at God. A canyon because my voice would echo and it would make me feel powerful. Maybe I’m angry because I don’t have power or control. And when I don’t I’m left vulnerable, dependent…on others, on God. Something I’m not used to, and we naturally fear the things we don’t understand.

God I’m tired of analyzing every situation or decision.

I just looked back to two weeks ago and read how this whole journey got started. I’m pretty sure there’s a book in here somewhere. I hope it makes it for the sake of other tortured, over-analytical souls. But, I reread the last sentence of the first day. That one day, that one street sign that cost the government $100 bucks, those thirty minutes of running, it’s costing me my life, I think in a good way. …I said I had been given a faith-experience. That I could trust God. With details AND my life. So here I am. About to quit my job because of one street sign.

It is deeper each time, and it was harder this time, too. Scarier. But I’ll let you know what happens on the other side.

A Street Called Glory, Day 17, April 12th

If I had a penny every time someone told me that a lot of times God only gives us enough light for the step in front of us…and if any one wants to tell me that again… I may hit you.

I got a “tough love” lesson this morning. Wait, let me call it like it is, it was a good kick in the ass. No names. But it was along the lines of making decisions and trusting God. I got angry. So of course, I went running. Back to the street called Glory. I visited all the providential streets. Furious with God. Can’t he see all I’ve been through in the past year? Can I not have just a few easy weeks? (And if you say I’m throwing a pity party, duck, I will deck you).

I’m still a bit livid even after visiting my street. I think because I have to actually make decisions about my life instead of avoid them. Avoiding is easier right? Unless someone makes them for you. That’s even better. But I’ve done that. I’ve allowed people to decide everything from what dinner plates I should buy to what I’m going to wear tomorrow or how I should live my life or where. But I think I’m tired of that too. No, I know I am.

I think that’s about all I can write today. No conclusions. Except that, today, April 12^th, 2010, I told my boss I’m quitting my job next month. I made a decision. Don’t ask me how I feel about it. I’m in the midst of trying to detach myself from it so fear and anxiety won’t consume me.

(nota bena-I found out about a part time option with work, so that's what I'll be doing. I'll update that in another post, the threat remains the same, don't ask me how i feel about it, still a hard decision)