Heroes Where You Least Expect Them

This morning I met Coach at the track in a local park for our training session. The workout would be light since we are running in a 10K race (6.2 miles) on Sunday. Our drill was to run barefoot in order to become familiar with where our natural foot-strike occurs. I was apprehensive about running on the textured track surface, but I figured it would be like a giant pumice stone and other people pay a fortune for pedicures. So, off with the shoes and socks, and onto the track I went.

Soon it felt natural, and I was able to sprint, jog, run and walk as instructed. I began doing some speed drills, running 50 or 100 yards to catch up with people walking the track, then recovering at an easy pace.

There was a woman running on the track who I will call Ann (not her real name). As I passed her during one of my last speed drills, I was breathing as deeply as possible. "Breathe! Breathe!" she said as I passed, although a slight speech impediment made it sound like she said, "Bree! Bree!"

I knew what she meant, so I slowed down and said to her with a laugh, "Breathing is good!" She smiled and said, "I love to run." The slight catch in her speech was still there. At first, I thought she might be deaf, speaking with the open-throated tone that some deaf people have.

I said and signed to her, "I'll go with you," and we began to run again. Her pace was moderate but enthusiastic, clearly showing the joy she felt about running. I jogged barefoot beside her, no longer thinking of my feet.

We ran a few laps together, running until we caught up with three friends of hers who were walking the track. One friend said this would be the last lap. Ann and I paused while I introduced myself to her friends, and they began to finish the lap.

"I had an accident," she said, voluntarily filling in the gaps. "I was 16. I was in a coma for a long time. They said I would never breathe on my own or talk or walk. Now I'm 36 and I love to run."

"You are my hero," I said. Her eyes were shining when she said to me, "And you are my hero."

"Well," I said, "I do have this big scar across my left side where they took my kidney out when I was a kid. I could never play sports. Now I'm 56 and I'm training to run a marathon."

"See?" she said, "you are a hero. We're both heroes." Her smile beamed.

"The first time I spoke after my accident, I was my hero," she said. "Then I couldn't walk and speak at the same time. Now I can run and speak. We are all heroes."

We ran to the track's gate, where she caught up with her friends. I told her I am usually here at the track this time of day Mondays through Thursdays, and I hoped we could be running partners again.

Who would want to miss the opportunity to run with a real hero? Not me, that's for certain.

Old Words, New Meanings

This past week our marathon team met for the Saturday long run training. We went seven miles. I admit this may have influenced the following anecdote.

Last night, I dreamed the Lord's Prayer was worded, "Lead us not into temptation, but help us make it over the next hill."

When I ran a 10k for the first time, last week, I was running on my own. I wanted to take a break and walk part of it. The temptation was strong! But I wanted to stay in integrity. On the other hand, there was a slight hill coming up that felt like a mountain!

I kept running, remembering the name of Dick Gregory's book, "Are You Running With Me, Jesus?" and I finished the 10k.

Just get me over the next hill, Lord, whatever it might be. Amen.

And to all, a good night!

I'm at the church, where I am hosting an open-attendance meeting for persons dealing with depression in themsleves or someone close to them.

There is no "average" number of attendees, and a week prior to Christmas, I have no way to know who might show up.

I made some chocolate chip cookies, and have coffee and hot water for tea prepared. The condiments, plates and napkins are on the table with the cookies.

Tonight I feel like my work as a priest is to be prepared for the guest(s) who may call, like the biblical virgins keeping their lamps full of oil in order to be ready when the groom arrives.

If someone shows up, then my work as a priest is to love them. First, though, my work is to be ready.

Jesus Asleep on my Boat

I have been reading "The Story of a Soul: The Autobiography of St. Therese of Lisieux." Chapter 8 begins with a passage about the day she professed her final vows to become a Carmelite nun, an event for which she longed for years.

She wrote: "Now I must tell you about my retreat for Profession. Far from eperiencing any consolation, complete aridity - desolation, almost - was my lot. Jesus was asleep in my little boat as usual. How rarely souls let Him sleep peacefully within them. Their agitation and all their requests have so tired out the Good Master that He is only too glad to enjoy the rest I offer Him."

This passage turns the "dark night of the soul" on its head for me! Sometimes I feel like God is absent. Now I can just think, "Jesus is just asleep in my little boat. Get some rest, Jesus, and I'll wake You when I really need You!"

(Nonetheless, I am glad that the Ignatian Retreat I took just before professing my vows as a priest was FULL of consolation!!)

Run Your Own Race

My friend Ray told me a story of driving with a wise friend riding along. When other drivers would do discourteous things, Ray would rant. His friend simply said, "Drive your own car, Ray."

Last Saturday, I did not meet my marathon-prep training goals. However, I did learn some important lessons! That is part of training, too: that sometimes the session is about what you learn, whether you met the goal or not.

I had been engaged in an easy run, sort of a trot, with some other runners who have been training a bit longer than I have. We were conversing as we went. Eventually, I ran out of steam and walked to recover.

My coach came alongside and suggested I finish the distance by doing brief "intervals," where there is a short, light run, followed by an equally distant walk in order to allow recovery time.

I did as he recommended, and I remembered what my stepgrandson Chet said to me: "Count your breaths, not your steps." So I began to focus on my breath and by doing so began to breathe more deeply. This rush of oygen fueled me back up, and my intervals became a little longer each time. I didn't want to push it, but I was curious to see how my improved breathing would affect my conditioning.

Today, I enjoyed a more successful training session. I met coach's goals for me, and my breathing was greatly improved and more efficient.

When Saturday rolls around, I will know that chatting with my fellow runners is probably not optimal for me, at least at this point. That is OK. They may be able to run and chat, but doing so causes me to breathe shallow breaths. I have learned I have to run my own race.

I am making some changes in my life to honor the ministry call I have heard. There are some things I need to drop, and I have resisted doing that because I don't want to let anyone else down or be a disappointment.

Fulfilling other people's expectations is a good way to stay busy, and what I have been doing is noble enough, but it is not related to my call, and the people I am called to serve go unserved as a result.

There will be some disappointed people when I withdraw from doing that which is not mine to do. Sorry! I truly am! I wish I could do it all! But, I have to run my own race.

The Holy Spirit comes alongside me to encourage and direct me, coaching my soul on its path the same way my running coach coaches my steps on the trail.

I do not run alone. None of us do. And yet, each of us is called to run our own race.

Thank You, God

Thank You, God,
not only for the moments I noticed,
but for the times You blessed me anyway.

Thank You, God,
not only for the things accomplished today,
but for the moments You loved through me.

Thank You, God,
for every miracle overlooked,
but not unappreciated.

Amen.

Unless You Become as a Little Child

We went Christmas carolling tonight in a neighborhood that really does it up with the decorations. People come from all around to see these two streets.

Two young children were jumping up and down with happiness after one of the songs. They were probably 3 or 4 years old.

I mentioned to the little girl that I liked her shoes, which lit up when she jumped. The little boy stomped his to show me his lit up too, but they were worn out and required a lot of force to trigger the lights.

"My shoes don't work," he said, dejectedly.

"Your shoes don't have to work, because the light inside you shines brightly already!" I said.

"Yeah, OK," he said and moved on.

He was so matter-of-fact about it, it didn't seem like a dismissal, just a "tell me something I don't know" reply.

You, gentle reader. don't need flashy shoes either. Your light shines!

Jesus said, "A city set on a hill cannot be hidden," and reminded us not to hide our light under a bushel.

Let your light shine!