Sister Sweat

I feel like I've been talking a lot about running lately. Maybe it's the time of year; the time of year when running is in the air....I can smell it. Running is a blessing, even a talent, but mostly a gift. A gift I depend on. So it's not with ease that I give up my morning run....my communion....for a jog.

I wait in the dark, van still running, tying my running shoes and singing to forget I'm scared. Soon anther car pulls into the parking lot, chasing away fear and by the time I'm out and locking my door, we're all here. This isn't the only time I see these ladies, my sisters; we sing together at church and they teach my kids. Sometimes we gather in mixed company with loud spouses and too much food.

Not this morning.

Kids and husbands left in weekend slumber, we sneak out for exercise....so we say. All different, sisters always are, but we meet together with pony tails and breath mints once a week to sweat. I'm the one who questions, with the hole worn sweats, and who drives in from the sticks.

Blood warms as we talk of whatever..... and everything. Worries and funnies that are dressed up, pinned back, for church tumble out easily, flapping in the breeze as we work our way down the river. Strange, that as we move side by side down a dark path, it's so natural to run exposed. Celebrations of years of school finally done and marathons run. Lost babes and stolen innocence, growing kids and amazing balance...or not so much. Sisterhood offerings, embraced and strengthened.

Not all is spoken, we share a similar, familiar path, and this binds too. In college, my running sisters, twice daily training warriors, were so close our cycles lined up; hormones emanating through our sweat. Yet this weekly gathering, this sister communion, is tighter; based on more than just a desire for speed, we share a desire to emanate His love....training warriors.

The sky is a little lighter as we stretch and cool. Plans are made for next week and we part, visions clearer. This sister gathering, all it should be, is a favorite gift. How do you gather with your sisters?

Euphoria

Training, diet and mental desire all align.....and I run.

*Euphoria.

What happens to the body that has been conditioned with healthy nourishment, that habitually strains and stretches, that desires to be more? Is the idea so strange; to find peace in the race? Not in slowing, but in pushing, thrilling with the growing strength of each step. What once was painful becomes a natural state of being, and I find rest.

But they that await upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.~Isaiah 40:31

When fatigue shows it's fearful face, tired distractions clutter my day and my misguided desires land empty at my feet, it's not a break that I need.

The need is for exercise of winded faith, words grow tired without actively following truth. The need is for scarfing nourishment from His word, storing up what is needed to improve performance and recovery. The need is for falling in step with His will, speed is of little importance if you are on the wrong path, and His race is the only one we can win.

"....let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us."~Hebrews 12:1

I think God is a runner.

*"...runner's high is thought to be ... a product of the natural, rhythmic motion of running and the mental calm caused by the meditation-like focus of long distance runners." (livestrong.com)

Lens One, or Lens Two?

"Lens one......or lens two? Now here again, is it clearer through lens one, or lens two."

I remember the first time I got glasses. I had been dreading it for weeks, knowing it was inevitable and fearing mind exaggerated social ramifications. But on the way home, with my new frames perched on my face, I couldn't stop staring at a world made new.

Have you ever had one of those moments; though painful at first....and sometimes for a long time, it changes how you see everything. Blades of grass appear where before there was only green, wires appear connecting fence and telephone pole, and signs appear legible beyond their shape.

"The whole world is different." That's what he told me last night; his focus still blurry....painful. "It's like I live in a completely different world now." Lens one is dim and obscure, I pray for clarity through lens two.

Gratitude in all things...this isn't the first time I've heard it's call, not the first time it has clarified my view. But it was different last time....not as much at stake; life will be renewed, but a lost soul...things blur and I don't understand. Gratitude in trials is faith that you can grow, putting off the natural man to be more like Him; He who created this natural man.....I still don't understand.

Neither lens is clear.

What's in a name?

"Esther? Isn't that the name of a cow?"

I overheard them talking, but I wish I hadn't. My name has it's moments. Being named after a courageous queen can be a nice boost sometimes. Unfortunately, it is also a popular name for "old ladies" and apparently even cows.

I celebrate my current last name, a gift from my husband, because it ties me and my children to another wonderful family that amazes me more every day.

Even though I've been married for 13 years, I still cling to my maiden name. It's both a tie and a reminder of a heritage that I that I work to earn. I love the old Judd's song "My Guardian Angles", especially the last verse:

Sometimes when I'm tired
I feel Elijah take my arm
He says, Keep a-goin', hard work
Never did a body harm.
And when I'm really troubled
And I don't know what to do
Fannie whispers, Just do your best, We're awful proud of you!

(Tear...sniff, sniff) It gets me every time. Names are a spoken reminder of that eternal bond that keeps us close despite years and mountains that separate.

What's in your name?

Wordfull Wednesday@Chocolateonmycranium

Slow Cooker Survival

Last week when I was feeling a little under the weather, I dusted off my slow cooker and put it to use. I don't use my slow cooker very often simply because I don't usually plan ahead that far, and to be honest, I haven't always had a lot of success; things come out too runny, or under/over cooked, too bland or too hot. Luckily for me and my family, these recipes (that I got from a recent issue of Simple & Delicious) worked.

Tex-Mex BBQ

3 1/2 lbs beef roast
1 jar (18 0z) hickory smoke-flavored BBQ sauce (or make your own)
1/2 cup finely chopped onion
1 envelope chili seasoning
1 T Worcestershire sauce
1 tsp. minced garlic
1 tsp. lemon juice
14 hamburger buns (make your own....YUM!)

Cut the roast in half and place in slow cooker. Combine remaining ingredients and pour over beef. Cook on high for 5-6 hours. Remove beef and shred then return to slow cooker. Serve on the buns.

This made enough for dinner one night and Sunday lunch. I'm sure it would go farther if you actually feel well enough to serve it with a side dish or some vegetables.

Fiesta Chicken Burritos

1 1/2 lbs boneless skinless chicken breasts
1 can (15 oz) corn, drained
1 can (15 oz) black beans (I cook a batch of these up these from scratch and keep them in the fridge to use through the week)
1 can (10 oz) diced tomatoes and green chilies
3 T ground cumin
1 tsp salt
1 tsp paprika
1/2 tsp pepper
Dash of cayenne pepper and crushed red pepper flakes
1 pkg. (8 0z) cream cheese
8 flour tortillas

Place the chicken in the slow cooker. Mix remaining ingredients except cheese and tortillas and pour over chicken. Cook on low for 4-5 hours (better use high if your chicken was frozen). Remove the chicken and shred, then return to slow cooker adding the cream cheese. Cook for about 15 minutes more or until everything is warmed through.

We ate this on four tortillas the first night, over mashed potatoes a few nights later and then I cooked up the leftovers last night with corn tortillas in casserole of sorts.

Ditch the Leash

I tighten the leash back, pulling her closer to me...and she pulls harder; her small frame leaning sideways as her feet slip on the gravel. She starts to cough as her collar pulls tight around her throat, obvious discomfort and yet she continues to pull.

I slacken my hold, giving her the whole length of leash and softly call, snapping my fingers at my side. Instantly she relaxes, looks up and comes to walk by my side, eager to please and content to be on our daily walk.

My short leash is self-imposed, and I, so fixed on pulling against it forget with whom I walk. The gravel slips from under my feet, as I hit my knees I hear His gentle call. Peace relaxes my strangled heart as I eagerly fall into step with my Master.

New Window

I pulled back the lace curtain,
not to let the light in,
but to let my vision pass

Without obstruction through
the new glass,

wrapped in unfinished pane.

Clean blankets laundered and

aired where neighbors can see

fragrant the room.

It seems so long ago,

the broken glass

and the escape in the wind.

What happened in between

forgotten....almost;

unfinished pain.

Laundered but still hanging,

softly lifted by the wind.

Are the neighbors still watching?

Wondering if we'll ever

bring it in, before the fresh air

fragrance turns stale.

Surprised by the Light unknowingly

let in, I go loosen the pins

and gather arms full.

The Scarecrow's Dance

I've been wanting to start my own little book list for a while now. Reading is one of the parenting skills I do really well...hehe, and a big part of our family time. I love reading to my kids. From the very beginning it is something I have done consistently; sometimes reading hours at a time. My oldest (when she wasn't so old) would sit forever on my lap, munching cheerios and listening to whatever was in reach of our chair. Hup was never content to sit for too long, but would always come back for more. I can't tell you how many books I've read to him as he climbed furniture, did somersaults, and played with toys. For Sunshine, it's all about the fairytale, and she's not picky, she will crawl up on anybodies lap to get her story. For Laser Boy, it's just the beginning as he moves from the stage of just happy to be snuggling to really demanding his favorite stories.

All this said, some books are just painful; as in, how in the world did this even get published? However, if one of my kids wants to read it, and it is appropriate, I can make my way through just about anything. Then there are the books like this one, that have it all. Well written, beautiful pictures, nice message, and enjoyable for all.


The Scarecrow's Dance written by Jane Yolen and illustrated by Bagram Ibatoulline is definitely worth checking out. I picked it up at our local library because of the pictures, and it had such a sweet little message I'm thinking about buying one for my own shelf.

I read it first to my oldest two and they loved it. It led to a discussion about how much I'm going to miss reading to them when they grow up and move away. I told them I'd just sit at home by myself reading picture books. Rose squeezed my arm and told me to be quiet because I was making her cry.

That moment was worth every painful book I've ever had to read.

Six Words

Sum up your life in six words.

I think I would do this different everyday...today it would be: Shivering, aching, sick as a dog, but in my weakness I'm breaking the rules...perhaps this is more like my life:

Continuous ball dropper and that's OK.

Wordfull Wednesday @ ChocolateonmyCranium.