July 28th, Glory, Pain, and Joy

Port au Prince, Haiti

Interesting past few days. A hard past few days. I’ve been reading a really good book Anne Lamott’s Traveling Mercies. She talks about her life, and she’s had some hard stuff happen. I think I have a bleeding heart. I’ve been accused of it before. But I had a hard time reading some of her stories because I felt her pain.

Then, today, I had the chance to meet some people downtown with some really interesting stories. Sad stories. Some of them living in the consequences of their choices or past. But I still felt compassion for them.

I had already been running this morning, but after hearing some of the stories and reading Anne’s, I had to run again. More questions. The cool thing was I felt oddly comfortable around these people whose stories were totally different than mine. I had the chance to love on them because most people don’t. And I loved doing that.

But I had to run. I don’t know how to handle feeling other people’s pain. I don’t know how to hand it over to God to take care of. I don’t know but maybe I’ll learn that down the road. For now, I’m relying on Will Smith and Eva Mendez’s hilarious performance in Hitch to distract my thoughts.

And running. It distracts my thoughts. Because the music I listen to takes me back to some good memories.

And, sometimes, it oddly helps me process stuff that’s hard or stuff that matters. But when I do, I sweat out all the tension. Or maybe the tension goes from my heart to the muscles in my legs. Diffused tension. I like that theory. Maybe it transfers from my neck and shoulders (from carrying the weight of the world with my bleeding heart) to my quads and calves.

So yeah, today I ran to the street sign. I had a hard time looking it in the eye. Glory. After hearing some painful stories. Glory, pain, and joy are really hard to reconcile. I’ll have to get back to you on that…

July 21, Why Jesus is Bass Ackwards

I let a few weeks slide by. I honestly haven’t wanted to write even though I’ve been running. The cross country team I help coach has been training in the mornings, so I go with them and sneak off to the neighborhood for a few quiet moments on Glory Lane.

I don’t know what it is. But I’m not the only one. I’ve surveyed lots of friends about this. We avoid writing during uneasy, uncomfortable moments in life. For me, I don’t want to write because when I do, my questions come to the forefront, and I have to deal with them. And I have lots of questions. Especially since being in Haiti. Why is there poverty? Why does God allow it? Is He still good if He allows people to go hungry? Am I bad for not fixing that? Am I supposed to fix it? Change the world? Can I? Why do I feel guilty for all I have? Should I not feel guilty? Should I feel guilty when I don’t feel guilty? Do I sell everything I own or give it away to the poor and live in a tent? I actually might not mind that. Living in a tent. But don’t ask me to give away my childhood blanket or my Mac.

I do wanna tell you one thing I learned in Haiti.

Giving is selfish.

You heard me right.

You’ve probably kept up with my blog. I’ve struggled with hope and joy. A lot.

But when I gave my time, my energy, my presence to those who needed it most, I got what I needed most: a spirit of hope, a filling of joy, the felt presence of God which we so long for and crave. And I can’t explain how it happened. But when Jesus says it is more blessed to give than receive, he’s pretty much right.

Now if you asked the Haitians, they would probably tell you they were blessed to have a dry place to sleep for the first time in four months. I can contend with that. They received something physical.

But they gave us something eternal. Hope, joy, and love. And they didn’t even know we needed it.

And it gets crazier. When we received these eternal things, we wanted to give it right back to them. We were like overflowing glasses of ice cold water that spilled over to them, to the orphans, and anyone around us. Their faces reflected the satisfaction found in ours. And I think Jesus was in that reflection, too. Hope, joy, and love flooded Grand Goave in June. In a place where water can be scarce, the living water Jesus talks about was a tsunami that had hit us. All because we gave. Or received. Or both.

July 6: Transforming Glory

30 days in Haiti. 30 days without running. I missed it, and I missed my street signs. But man, I experienced a lot and learned a lot. My Facebook fan page will have most of my stories there.

I went running again for the first time last night. 7:45pm, 90ish degrees, 50% humidity. Perfect. The sun was starting to set. When I started off, my legs felt like jello…I couldn’t quite figure out how to keep them going. It was almost as if I had to relearn my striding and pace again.

It didn’t take long though. It felt so good to be back on my path. I’m sure I started off too fast, but I didn’t care. The only thing that ached were my arms from inner tubing during 4^th of July weekend at the lake. I only ran about a mile and a half, but that’s probably all I could handle.

I turned down the street just before Glory Lane and something kinda came over me. Excitement? I took off. I like to reserve my energy because in the back of my head I’m always thinking “As far as I go out is the same distance I have to come back”. Not today. I was excited. About a street sign.

But that sign represents so much. Months of struggles, questions, battles…and it all led up to my trip, this trip. Just 30 days ago I was looking at this sign thinking, “I don’t know what I’m diving in to…”. Now 30 days later, and here I am, staring at the same sign, speechless at the experiences and lessons learned.

My contemplative, sentimental moment was quickly interrupted by some birds flying above me. And I traveled back to that day on the trail when a bird flew right in front of me. Look at the birds, free and unfettered, not tied down…, careless in the care of God. And you count far more to him than birds.

That took me back to the time I came here so stressed about the details of my life, and God brought that verse to my memory when two birds flew right over me on the street.

And now? The details? There are so many. I don’t know where I’m going to be in just a few months. There are chances to go back to Haiti. There are chances to start a new job. I want to go back to school, I’d love to spend time volunteering at Children’s Hospital here in Dallas. So many options. And for once, anxiety is gone for now. I have stressful moments, and I don’t doubt anxiety will creep back in. But being out of my typical routine for a month pulled me out of being stuck and taught me how to dream again.

It wasn’t just that I was in a third world country. That had a lot to do with it. You start questioning everything you do or think when you realize how well off you are compared to those in Haiti. But then you realize how fortunate they are because they have to live in community with others and in reliance on others.

May 27

I’m fallin apart, barely breathing, with a broken heart, that’s still beating… The music by Lifehouse I listened to while running tonight.

Lots of questions, lots of heartache from the past year and a half, lots of confusion. Usually I rush to find answers to my questions or to ease the chaos. I think I finally threw my hands in the air tonight. I can’t escape any of it. I can’t hide from any of it. And I can’t act like life-for all of us-isn’t a battle. I think I may have quit fighting against all of it. Not in a bad way. But I’ve stopped trying to run from it. Instead, I’m here. In Texas. With fears, struggles, a midlife crisis that came 15 years early. And still hanging on to my faith. My friend said the people he respects the most and wants to be like are the ones who don’t deny that faith, hope, life are every day battles.

Tonight’s run was good. It was hot, but I got to run through some sprinklers on Heaven Drive. Words would hardly describe how amazing it felt. I think I had just finished running 4ish miles, in the mid 90’s, 50% humidity. The sun was bright. It hadn’t started to cool off yet, and I don’t think I realized how blistering it was until I hit the sprinklers. The moment the stream of water shot me in the face, I gasped at the coldness of it. I went through another one, hitting me in the back. I turned around and went through them again like a kid. Call me crazy, but I couldn’t stop smiling and I even laughed at myself as I did it, getting almost completely soaked.

May 26

Some days I feel like I’m just holding on. To hope, to faith.

May 25

May 25, 2010 Day 63

The broken clock is a comfort…lyrics to a really good song by Lifehouse, and along the lines of my thoughts during my run tonight. And it was a good night to run. Just barely humid, but a hint of heat. With a breeze that kept me cool. In the shade, I could smell the just cut grass.

Do you remember what tonight smelled like for you? Someone’s perfume or cologne? decaf coffee? sweaty children? What about the scenes from the day? I had the image of the sun setting behind a hill near a path where couples and families were walking with their dogs. Slowly. Enjoying life.

I’ve had a week to think about what it means to slow down and enjoy life. It’s hard to do. Remember when I said everyone should experience what it’s like to sit and wait for several hours? That was easy, for me.

The first three days of vacation in May were like stapling jello to a tree. When I stopped doing life at 100mph, I was a bit overwhelmed. Convincing myself that sitting still was ok, near impossible. I kept thinking “Have I done everything I need to for work? What student do I need to call? What’s next?” Oh wait. Right. Vacation.

I think I realized how bad off I was when I went to the farm last Wednesday, day 3 of my vacay, and couldn’t enjoy riding. I didn’t even ride. I felt panicked at the idea that I had to be doing something but I had nothing to do. It’s like when I’ve run a really long distance and then stop and my legs feel like they should still be running. I buried my face in one of the pony’s manes. I didn’t know I’d let it get this bad, my overworking, my anxiety, letting time control my life.

Today, I have nothing I have to do. And that’s ok with me. Actually, I’m starting to like it. I think I’d like to retire soon. Not really, but I’ve learned a lot. I think I have a new perspective on how I can take charge of my time instead of it taking charge of me. An priceless lesson, I think.

The broken clock is a comfort. I wonder what would happen if I paid less attention to time anyway. Wonder what would happen in your life if you paid less attention to time. When you break for lunch, how often do you look at your watch? When you spend time with someone you love, are you constantly aware of the time? What if our clocks are more of a hindrance? I used to go to the coffee shop to write and read, and every 3-5 minutes I would check my cell phone for the time and messages. I remember one time I looked at the clock, put it down, read a sentence from my book, and picked up my phone again to check the time. I realized I had a problem when the numbers hadn’t changed. Less than 60 seconds I checked the time twice. I don’t wear a watch when I run because I constantly check it.

I think it’s a health precaution. To slow down. To pay less attention to time. I can’t tell you what that looks like for you. Different strokes for different folks, but enjoy your week. Slow down. Remember the smells, sights, and sounds. You’ll find you kinda get drunk on life because there is so much to take in and enjoy.

Back from Haiti

Hey friends, I am back from Haiti, with lots of stories, pictures, videos, and new things to write about. And a new street sign I found in Haiti. Updates soon, and more on my Facebook page.