Bodybuilding vs. Spiritbuilding

Bodybuilding hurts. We all know that in order to build muscle mass, you must work those muscles out. You must lift weights or work out on machines or ride a bike or run. Whatever form of exercise you choose, if you are building muscle mass, you are first breaking it down. Think about the strongest person you know or, better yet, think about Hulk Hogan or Arnold Schwartzenegger. If you have ever watched a bodybuilder work out then you have seen how painful it is. You hear them make beastial noises and yell as they push themselves to the limit, as the struggle and strain to get that last rep. All to build their muscles bigger and stronger than before. What happens when you work out your muscles? The muscle fibers are damaged. The muscle fibers that are damaged by the trauma of working out are rebuilt by the body, becoming thicker and more numerous, therefore growing the muscle into a bigger, stronger muscle. (Read more about the science of muscle building here http://www.unm.edu/~lkravitz/Article%20folder/musclesgrowLK.html ) the point is, in order to make your muscles stronger, they must be traumatized, tortured and torn and then allowed to heal - bigger, better, stronger. When you are faced with adversity, when you go through a difficult situation or season, you can either give up and feel sorry for yourself or you can view these times like a spiritual workout. Just as a torn muscles' healing increases it's strength, size and effectiveness, our struggles can strengthen us spiritually and make us more effective Christians. If we strive to change our way of thinking and see these times as an opportunity to grow instead of wondering why God would allow us to go through such things, we can be much more productive and grateful people. So the next time you find yourself in the midst of a trial, push through the pain and then flex those new spiritual muscles that develop from the workout your Spiritual Trainer custom designed for you. He only wants to see you grow to your full potential and He will spot you through the workout if you let Him. Remember - no pain, no gain. 

My Footwear Fiasco

Tonight I witnessed a very sweet girl marry the man of her dreams. She was obviously over-the-moon delighted as she looked into his eyes and committed to be his for a lifetime. In the weeks leading up to the wedding, several of us scoured the few stores in our tiny hometown mall looking for just the right outfit for the occasion. I, myself, even bought a new pair of heels. Now, those who know me know that I am seen more often than not wearing boots. Not the spiky heel kind but the kind with the one-inch chunky combat boot kind of heel.  But I have needed a pair of basic black dressy shoes for a long time and this was my chance to justify the purchase. Surprisingly, I found the perfect pair at the right price the day before the wedding. They were a little higher than I would have liked but I thought "Hey, I used to wear these all the time. I can do this.". It turns out I was wrong. Driving in heels does not seem like it would be much different than in any other shoes but it definitely is quite different. It was a shaky start but I caught on quickly and we were on our way. As my friend and I arrived at the venue and got out of the truck, I began to wonder if I had made the wrong decision regarding my footwear. I wobbled along about as graceful as a hippo on roller skates. It was a bit of a trek to the ceremony site and I regained my sea legs and my confidence though my feet were beginning to talk to me quietly already. When the wedding ceremony was over and we headed toward the reception hall I was still doing alright. But in the cocktail area, as we waited for the photographer to finish up with the bride and groom, there was absolutely nowhere to sit. I stood there trying to look graceful and poised, hoping no one could tell that I was shifting my weight from one foot to the other as the pain in my toes and balls of my feet grew less bearable by the second. By the time we were directed from the cocktail area to the reception, each step brought with it shooting fire and, more than a few times, I wavered and almost lost my balance. I pushed through the pain only by reminding myself that I had endured much worse pain for longer at Parris Island and survived. I was NOT going to let a pair of classy black heels get the best of me. When we finally rounded the corner to the lawn strewn with tables and (blessed sweet wonderful) chairs, my feet felt like fire and ice all at the same time and I was not sure how I was going to get across the grassy area between the hard slate steps I was standing on and those amazing-looking chairs. If you have ever worn spiky heels and tried to walk across grass then you know what I am getting at. You cannot, when you walk across grass in shoes like this, put any weight whatsoever on your heels or your heels will sink into the soft earth under the pressure of the weight of your body. Then you run the risk of walking right out of your shoes. You must shift all of your weight to the ball of your foot instead. At this point, that was almost impossible for me but I again conjured my strength by mentally drill-instructing myself and determining that I would not allow these beautiful black demon shoes to make me the laughingstock of the party. As it turned out, I made it to the table without falling on my face or losing a shoe. The night was fair and cool. The breeze blew in off the lake. The music was nostalgically wonderful. And the food was fantastic! (I did have to beg a good-looking younger gentleman at our table to chase me down a glass of water because I just couldn't bring myself to stand up and walk back across the grass again when I had just sat down safely with my plate of prime rib and loaded mashed potatoes.) As plates were cleaned and cleared away, the music ramped up to a faster pace, signaling that the party had begun. Unfortunately, it was getting dangerously near my bedtime. I ventured out one final time to place my gift with all the others and then headed toward the front of the house and the parking lot beyond. As soon as I was around the corner and out of eyeshot of the party, I gingerly pulled my shoes from my throbbing feet. The cool slate of the walkway was heaven beneath my tortured toes and I breathed an honest sigh of glorious relief. I may well wear those shoes again one day but I can tell you it will not be soon and it will not be often. 

Daydreams of a Would-be Writer

To date, I have had no more than one poem published (and the one I did have published was in a collection of thousands of aspiring poets and I had to buy the book). I believe this barely-published state of being is partly due to the fact that I have not been very good at seeking out places to present my work. I am still struggling with whether this is solely because I am afraid of rejection or if I am also truly overwhelmed at the sheer enormity of the task of wading through all the sketchy people/publications/companies to find the reputable ones. It is my life's dream to publish a book one day. I have dreamed for it as long as I can remember. From the age of six or seven, I wrote stories and bound them into books. I have actually started a novel, which I work on only periodically when I can find the time and inspiration. My mind is so cluttered these days with everything else that is required of me that it is hard, even when time allows, to just sit down and pick up writing where I left off. The story reveals itself to me bit by bit all the time and I have a million notes scrawled on used napkins and bits of paper torn from the corners of whatever was handy when inspiration struck. Old envelopes are another convenient drawing board and I have to clear them out of the car and my purse on a regular basis (my husband always gets annoyed at "all that trash" in the cup holders). I am finally getting more organized and catagorizing them in my iPad so I don't have to sift through all the bits and pieces in such a random fashion any longer. Hooray for technology! I know I have a story to tell and I think it will be a good one. Maybe not for everyone, but a good one for a lot of people. There is darkness in all of us. Some choose not to believe that. Some willfully ignore it. Some embrace it and hurt others. Some simply allow it to flow out of them onto the page for the entertainment of those who aren't afraid to poke the beast once in a while (in a relatively comfy place and from a safe distance). I'm not sure where my darkness originated and I really don't care. I write because it makes me feel alive. I write whatever flows out. I write because it purges the darkness from my soul and when I emerge from that imaginary place, I feel lighter, I feel happy. I write because I cannot do otherwise.

No Rest For The Weary

Well, I don't know about anyone else but I am just exhausted! I am so tired of hearing of people being drawn away from God by religious people! If you are genuinely trying to follow Christ's example, I applaud you. I just don't understand why people allow bad teaching or a legalistic upbringing to turn them hardcore against "religion".  I put that word in quotes because it means different things to different people and it gets mixed up a lot when people use it in place of relationship. To me, religion is what I grew up learning - the dos and don'ts, the rules. Religion, in my view, is usually legalistic and oppressive. I don't remember anyone ever telling me when I was young that to be a Christian was to love and serve others. I learned that it meant instead to do THESE things and don't do THOSE things and to never, never talk (or even THINK) about any of THAT.  Since, I have come to prefer relationship over religion.  It saddens me that so many kids that grew up the way I did probably quit going to church as soon as they turned 18 (as I did) and never returned.  Some not really knowing if they believe in God at all anymore, or even caring.  I am tired of hearing about people who have been rejected and even ostercized by others who call themselves Christians. I am tired of people brandishing that title as a license to judge others. I am tired of being lumped in with a group that professes to know God and follow Christ but who's actions and even words habitually and willfully exemplify the exact opposite of what Christ modeled. We are all human. We mess up. We cannot be like Christ. I am not saying that we should expect perfection from ourselves and others, but we can strive to show the kind of unconditional love that He displayed. He loved the unloveable. He accepted the unacceptable. And He forgave the unforgivable. I read an article this week about a woman who lived in such an extreme state of "biblicalness" that the scripture she was following was twisted and out of context to the point of allowing herself to be manipulated and steamrolled as she had come to believe that was what it meant to be a submissive wife. She regularly hesitated to voice her opinion or disagree with anything her husband said for fear of sinning against him and against God. Who teaches this stuff!? Now she blames the church for the abuse she endured and the oppression she and her children lived under. To her, being the "good Christian wife" equates to near-slavery. Now she spreads a message of "Woman, be loosed", encouraging women to break away from the oppression of Christianity and the biblical family lifestyle. I don't understand why people like this fail to see that, although they may have been misinformed or even manipulated, it's people that have let them down. People that have purposefully or ignorantly misused the scripture and led them astray. It was not Christ who did that. It was fallable humans that failed them. Not God. Christian, if you are going to claim the title, you need to be willing to respect it and wear it well. Represent. Don't be a part of the reason people won't give God a chance.

Platoon 4018

I wrote this near the end of boot camp. I turned 22 at MCRD Parris Island and graduated as a United States Marine on July 4th.  Ooh-Rah!

Lying in my rack at night

crying secret tears

clutching to my chest The Book

that eases all my fears.

Knowing that I'll make it through

but hurting just the same.

Getting just a little tired

of playing the DIs' game.

I'd dream at night of bubble baths

and chocolate candy bars, 

of pepperoni pizza and

of gazing at the stars.

Rude awakenings, shouting cries -

"GET OUT OF THE RACK RIGHT NOW!"

I was sure that I'd survive

though not quite sure just how.

Swim qual; Rifle range;

Combat Town was a blast!

Inspection; Drill; (and

before we knew it)

Graduation Day at last!

Highly motivated, filled with pride -

Drill Instructor Sergeant LaChapelle

"You're high!  You're high!  You must be high!"

is what she liked to yell.

Drill Instructor Sergeant Shindledecker -

Now there's a dedicated DI.

She hung in there with these "nasty recruits"

until we were ready to die.

Senior Drill Instructor Sergeant Cruz -

On the Island no doubt she's the best.

She may not be our mother

but she outdoes all the rest.

She kept us motivated at "the beach"

in her own special way.

"Got to stay motivated '18!"

is what she'd always say.

For this platoon of "Bad News Bears"

training was the test

but we came out of it on top

'cause we were trained by the very best!

Remember now as we say goodbye

to Platoon Four Thousand Eighteen -

We stepped off the bus clueless recruits

but we leave here hardcore MARINES!

All In

It seems these days that we fill our lives so full that we don't have the time to pay attention to what is really important. We work. We have church and church activities. We have kids that need help with homework we don't understand. We cram our kids schedules so full of activities and sports and chores that they don't know what it's like to just be a kid. They think this is just how life should be - chasing after the wind. We are teaching them that to relax is lazy and that you have to always have somewhere to go or something to do or you aren't normal. God specifically set aside a day for rest. Not only do our body and mind need the downtime to recoup and refresh, but setting aside time to just be still and reflect, gives us a renewed perspective. It gives us time to look inward and explore if what we are in pursuit of is of any real value or if it is just a chasing after the wind. It gives us time to prioritize and decide what (or who) we want to spend our precious time on. If we do not give ourselves this decompression time, we are more stressed and irritable and can even become resentful. We are more likely in our state of over-involvement to allow the urgent to crowd out the important. We only have a limited amount of minutes in this life. Filling them up with meaningless junk leads to a deathbed full of regret and emptiness. To lead a truly full life, we must empty it of what is temporary and trivial. Strip away what is unnecessary clutter to make room for your life to really breathe. 

Life's Not Fair...But It's Worth It

For a long time I wondered why God would want us to stay together when it seemed that we no longer had anything in common. I speculated bitterly why I should have to suffer for someone else's selfish choices and bad decisions. Years before, I had believed God brought him into my life to help make me a more confident person - to teach me that I could be comfortable in my own skin - because that's what my husband has taught me.  That, and not to worry about things I have no control over.  He has helped me become a more confident, capable human being.  But, over the past five years, I began to wonder, "What now?  Why continue when we are so different, want different things and it seems we are only making each other miserable?".  Struggling through these thoughts, I have come to realize this:  for whatever reasons God brought him into my life, God brought me into his life as well.  Now it's my turn to help him become a better, more confident, capable human being.  Please hear me when I say I am not speaking from place of superiority or piousness.  What I am saying is that I have humbly chosen to accept my responsibility as a wife, my responsibility to support my husband and respect him as the authority God has placed over me and that I submitted to the day I married him, to pray for him daily, to remind him that no other person's expectations, including mine, matter but only God's.  Maybe God brought us together because He knew, as much as I needed him, my husband would need me.  Having to suffer through the consequences of his choices and actions is just a biproduct (albeit however uncomfortable) of my choice to stay and try to be the best wife I can be.  Is it fair? Hell, no!  But haven't we been warned, almost from infancy, that life is not fair?  Over the past few years I have learned a bit about sacrifice.  Being (or trying to be) selfless is hard!  It isn't usually fun.  And sometimes it's downright painful.  But in the end, it is worth it because it grows you into the person God created you to be while showing others Christ-like love and maybe helping them find the courage to become the person God created them to be too.  This is the hope I have for the future.