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Attack of the Killer Treadmill

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This post is dedicated to those who (like me) have tried their hand at treadmill exercising... and been found (sorely) wanting. For bodily discipline is only of little profit, but godliness is profitable for all things…  I Timothy 4:8 Donned in our fashionable exercise outfits (old sweats and worn out T shirts), my husband, myself, and our two (then) teens headed for the local YMCA to work out. Although it was 6:40 am, we were bright eyed and bushy tailed. This would be a family thing; we would do this as a team !  Piling out of the car, we headed toward the fitness room. I chose the treadmill for a 20-minute warm-up--at least that was the intent. A quick hop on the machine and a simple push of the red button began the torture. I noticed the body clip dangling from the bar -- intended to halt the beast in case of a fall. “Who would fall walking?” I thought to myself incredulously. Halfway through my warm-up, I got the distinct notion I was alone. A quick glance about for my fami
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LIVING DANGEROUSLY

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Zippity doo dah, zippity day, my oh my, what a wonderful day! Plenty of sunshine headin’ my way, zippity doo dah, zippity day.” Depending on your age, you may or may not remember this song. For me, it pulsed vividly through my mind—with an emphasis on zippity, and minus the sunshine. Let me explain. My husband and I had the privilege of accompanying a group of teens on a missions trip to Costa Rica (originally Honduras, but that’s a whole other post!). One of our days was a planned “half-day off” from our hard work. We were going to go zip-lining in the rain forest. Note the word rain in front of the word forest. Strapped up, helmeted, gloved, and jingling as we hiked up the mountain trail, I wondered what I was getting myself into. My fear of heights gave me no room for comfort. Crawling up the steps to the first platform (yes, they were steps normal people would walk up, and yes, I crawled), I finally reached the top, hugged the tree (no, I’m not normally a tree hugger), and
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INTRUDERS

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Discernment. Timing. Patience. Wisdom. Ever have one of those days (weeks, years, or perhaps life?) when you helplessly watch an intruder gobble up your sustenance--not kibbles, but your sustenance of time, emotional energy, physical stamina, spiritual refreshment, or mental health? Intruders can come slowly over a course of time, or they can arrive abruptly, loaded with consequences for those who dare to deny them their demands. One intruder that arrived abruptly in my life was the diagnosis of Type 1 (Juvenile) Diabetes. At the age of 43, I went from enjoying a carefree, independent, healthy lifestyle to becoming an insulin-dependent-finger-pricking-carb-counting-mind-numbing human food calculator. Another uninvited intruder came more gradually in my life and has recently taken up residence--its name is midlife; pre-menopause (or more aptly put, "mental-pause"). While I can't rid myself of those unwanted guests, I can learn to live victoriously with them, understanding
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Hoping...

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“Hope it all works out!” “Hope you get well soon!” “Hope you find a new job!” “Hope your baby sleeps through the night!”… These are wishes based on the pursuit of comfort, the want of better circumstances, easier lifestyle, and escape from current challenges. But they’re not hope. When I find myself looking for hope on those terms, I miss it every time. And I have missed it. I now find myself no longer looking for hope. Instead, I recognize the fact that I have hope, therefore I can look more confidently at my world. This hope isn't based on my comfort level or things going my way, although that would be nice. It's not based on circumstances, political policies, economic status, or my health—and that’s a good thing. My hope is based on something that won't change; Someone who is outside all of my circumstances, yet intimately acquainted with all aspects of my life. This Someone is never late, neglectful, rude, impatient, or limited in what He does. He is always present, pat
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A reflection on love

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Growing up as a child, I remember singing "Jesus loves me, this I know..." But I didn't fully know. It wasn't until I was 16 years old that I came to experience the truth of that simple song on a personal level. It was life-changing. That was 33 years ago. As I near my 49th birthday in a couple of days, I find myself quietly reflecting. When it comes to my love for my Lord, have I grown sharper or duller over the years? Is my love for Him as passionate as it once was? In Psalm 73:24-26 the psalmist recounts: "Whom have I in heaven but You? And besides You, I desire nothing on earth. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever." As I get older, my flesh and my heart do fail me. I get busy. Distracted. Lazy. Sloppy. Half-hearted. But in all this I am comforted by a God who knows me and loves me in spite of my failings. His love for me isn't performance based. For that, I am grateful! "Jesus loves me, this
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