I started running again. One of the hardest things about it for me isn't the physical exertion as much as the mental. I have to continually tell myself, "I can keep going. I can. I can." As soon as I start, I immediately hear myself, "You can't make it. You probably won't even make it to the end of the block." Then I respond back, "Well, right now I'm here. I'll do the best I can now." Arghhh! I didn't realize that running was going to be such a mental battle for me. My Mom gave me a "Runner's Handbook" published by Runners Magazine. Their suggestions - distract yourself. Watch the birds, smell the grass, pretend you are seeing it all as a movie. I've tried this, it helps, but 3 seconds later I'm back to, "I can't keep going!"I didn't realize what a metaphor for life running is. No new ideas here. Life is always likened to a race. It's just a lot more potent when you're actually running, instead of reading about it. Life really does seem to be going past me like a movie. Some days, Grace and I don't have anything planned. I think, "Man, what are we going to do all morning?" And before I know it, it's 12:30, time for the lunch/nap/chores part of our day. And, all of a sudden, in three months, I'm going to have a three year old on my hands. Yesterday, on his way to work, I told Bill - "Thirty-three months ago at this time, I was having a baby."
When I was in high school, I started a "zine" - this is short for magazine, a homemade publication, made on a photocopier, mostly by hand. Do these even exist anymore? My zine was called "Ephemeral Youth." I discovered the word "ephemeral" in my SAT prep class - applied it to youth, sounded cool. Little did I realize how true the phrase is.
Tonight at Target, I shopped for clothes for Grace, myself, browsed through the bedding section, and (of course) lingered there forever. I get so sucked into patterns, textures, colors, coordinating bins and boxes... it doesn't help that I love graphic design. I love Target's signage right now for summer. They get me every time. I realized that I spend a lot of time thinking about redesigning my bedroom, or Grace's room, or whatever. Dreaming about the next "big" project. Recently I read a post on one of my favorite blogs. The writer, a Mom, wrote about her summer plans, and her desire to make sure that this summer she does something that, come September, she'll be thankful she did. I thought about this. Immediately I realized that what I want to do can't be quantified visually or on paper. I want to make memories with Bill and Grace. I want to help Bill with his new worm farm, take Grace swimming in our neighborhood pool, chase her around the yard, throw tea parties, have our neighbor friends over for lunch, read good books... So often I quantify how well I've used my time by what I can see. Ha! I don't think this can be true of a mother. A mother's job is gigantic . . .
This Sunday in our pre-church service prayer meeting, an African man read Scripture with his thick accent. Anything he says sounds cool. He read from Malachi - the essence of what he said was "Only what's done for Christ will last." This is a phrase I have heard before. When I apply this to my life, it takes on such a rich meaning.
I'm looking forward to making homemade meatballs tomorrow, giving Grace her new headband to try on, coloring pictures, drawing with sidewalk chalk, and keeping my home. I'm thankful I get to do it. Thankful I have people to care for at all. Most of all, thankful for the mercy I receive on a minute-by-minute basis from God through the blood of Jesus.
