Running Reflections

I've been thinking a lot lately about the great "race" that I have qualified to run. The race that Paul refers to so often in the New Testament. I've been feeling so deflated lately. Just so un-energized. For months now I've honestly been teetering on just giving up on everything "race" related. I'm slowly realizing why, as I begin to examine the vitals that will help me to persevere in the race.

The other day as I was out for my daily run, I was just struggling to get through. This was the week I had to double my running time from the week before. Day one was hard. I was into my last 4 minutes and my knees were aching, my calves were weakening and I was slowing way down and ready to just give up. I then felt the wind on my back and was suddenly reminded of this scene from the movie Facing the Giants. Now, I'm not one to even watch football movies, let alone remember anything from them. And I'd almost forgotten about this scene until it randomly came to mind while I was running. Thinking about it got me through my final 3 minutes.

What a beautiful picture of the Coach who stands beside us cheering us on to persevere as we head towards the finish line.

Turtle X-ing

Today I ran over a turtle on my way to work . . . . I couldn't swerve fast enough to miss him because I wasn't expecting a turtle to be out in the middle of the road, so I ended up nicking him with my tire. I heard a big 'thunk kutunk' under my car and then as I watched out my rear view mirror I saw the turtle traumatically bouncing off the road with his little tail or head peering out. . . or maybe those were his guts. I hope I didn't kill the poor guy. What the heck was a turtle doing all tucked into his shell in the middle of the highway??? Then again it was Milton. Being accustomed to city living, sometimes I forget that the turtles are still free to roam in the middle of the street in growing places like Milton. Perhaps a turtle X-ing sign should be put up.

Untactful Beef

My beef today goes beyond beef. Some people seriously have no tact. Today our family received photos in the mail. Photos from almost a year ago of our family standing by my grandmother's grave the day we buried her. First off, WHO takes pictures at a funeral???? Especially without the family's permission!!! It's not like everyone wants a photo of that moment so that they can look back and remember the pain, and sorrow. Who thinks that taking pictures of a family's private moment of grief is acceptable? Clearly there are people who do!!!! I don't know if the people who took the photos thought that we would appreciate them or what, but I seriously didn't need to see them. . . the details of that day are etched in my mind as it is thank you very much!! It's hard to know how to reply to such an untactful gesture.

Fajitas!!!

Yesterday morning, Achilles and Jen found out the sex of the baby they are expecting in August. So my sister puts Julia on the speaker phone to share the news with Me, Grandma and Bapa. Jen says, "Julia, tell Grandma, Bapa and Auntie what we're having!!" and Julia yells excitedly "Fajitas!!!" It took a few more minutes of careful prompting to get the real news out of Julia, but she finally shared. Looks like in August I'm going to be the proud Auntie of . . . Fajitas!! Yaaaay Fajitas!!

My Burd-day

My 30th Birthday was wonderful. I have to say that this phone msg left by my 2 year old niece was probably the bestest birthday greeting of the day hands down . . . ahhh have I ever mentioned how much I love being "Auntie"?? (The video isn't really exciting to watch, but the audio is definitely worth listening to:)

Mallards

5 years ago today a beautiful mallard duck crossed my path. It was a bright sunny March day, much like today. There was still a little bit of snow on the ground, and if you listened closely the birds were chirping sweet little spring melodies. It was a lovely tranquil morning. Inside I felt far from tranquil. In my heart there was a tremendous weight, the heavy weight that only grief can bring. I didn't know how I was going to get through the day and I just kept praying that somehow God would get me through because I knew that my own strength wasn't enough.

The night before our family sat around the dinner table as my grandmother shared what exactly she had put in my grandfather's casket. She mentioned that she had put in a stuffed animal duck. My sister was baffled. And kept saying "a duck? you put a duck in the casket? why? I don't get it." My grandmother's reasoning made sense to me because I was the one who had given Tutty that duck. It was a stuffed mallard, and I brought it home one day when he was sick, because I knew how much he missed watching his ducks at the cottage. He kept that duck by his bed until he died. The duck represented Tutty's love for nature. My sister felt it an inappropriate gesture nonetheless and ranted about the "duck" for the rest of the evening.

The next morning as my sister and I were walking to the limousine that would take us to the funeral home where my grandfather's casket was waiting for his funeral procession, a beautiful mallard with a glistening emerald head waddled across the snowy path in front of us and then spread his wings and flew into the sky. I was just so amazed that an actual duck would appear out of nowhere. Neither of us acknowledged the duck at that moment because we were trying to be silent, but for me that duck was God's way of saying, "It will all be okay, I'm carrying you." In that moment that duck was a symbol of God's love for me. It gave me hope that I could get through that day. After the day was over my sister asked me if I had seen the duck. She said that she felt as though that duck was a sign from God and that she now didn't find the stuffed duck so odd anymore.

I have to admit, I just can't look at mallards as just ordinary ducks anymore. Anytime I see one, I stop not only to remember my grandfather, but more so to give thanks for the love and faithfulness of my loving Father. The Father who always provides us with exactly what we need in order to give us the hope and the strength that carry us through this life.

Opera

Have I mentioned how much I love opera? Of course it's assumed since I've spent more than half my life training to sing it, but seriously there is just something about it. . . . I've been spending a lot of time lately just listening to as many recordings as I possibly can of amazing singers, mainly because I'm trying to pick a ton of new rep to work on and eventually build into my ongoing list. I do this about once a year and it's at this time when I just listen -when I Listen without analysis, when I listen as an audience member rather than an aspiring opera singer - that I really remember what it was that drew me to the art form in the first place. . . there's just something so beautifully human about it. . . the stories that are told, the emotions that it evokes. . . .
Sometimes as I work at it myself, I lose perspective of what an extremly powerful art form opera can be.