My Loss: Someone Else's Gain

Yesterday was my birthday, and on my birthday, I am reflective.  I crave time to rest and remember, to gain perspective and seek direction for the year ahead.

In an effort to make some space for pondering on my birthday, I began my day with a run.  Lacing up my shoes, I included some money for a stop at our local farmer's market on the way home.  Cool morning breezes and abundant sunshine met me as I got on my way.  Feeling grateful for the beauty of the day, I wondered if it was too self-focused for me to believe that God was celebrating me and giving me a gift in the weather.  My steady pace and hopeful thoughts were interrupted when I stopped to confirm that my market money was still in my shoe and found it missing.  I stood there, careful to check both shoes and the sidewalk at my feet before jumping to hasty conclusions.  But I was right the first time; the money was nowhere to be found.  This had been my practice -- including money for market in my tight shoelaces -- on many runs, and I never managed to lose money before.  As I turned to retrace my steps, a vain attempt to find the cash on city sidewalks already dotted with pedestrians, the feelings of shame welled up inside.  How could I be so stupid as to run with money in my shoe.  Why didn't I tie my laces tighter?  These kinds of thoughts went on for a little while.  Maybe the thinking was a bit extreme, given that it was only $16 that I had lost.  But I guess loss does that to you.  Loss brings on all of these intense emotions -- disbelief that something is permanently gone, shame that you failed to make a decision that would have kept this from happening, sadness when you realize that no matter how hard you try you can't recover what is gone, and fear that something like this will happen again.  The next time I run with money, I'll be determined to hold onto it.  It will be in a tight pocket, or better yet, in my hands, where nothing can take it away from me.  The fear of loss causes us to think some crazy thoughts.

As I continued my reflective birthday run, which turned into a reconnaissance mission for my money, I remembered a time when my sister lost her market money.  I felt so badly for her at the time and offered to help her look for the money, but she shrugged, and in her thoughtful and gracious way replied, "maybe there was someone who needed the money that I lost this morning."  When I considered this possibility, it lifted the weight of my negative thoughts.  Maybe someone else needed my money.  My loss will be someone else's gain.

Thoughts of lost money turned to thoughts of lost life as I attended a funeral for a friend's son later that morning.  Only 20-years-old, he died as a result of a motorcycle accident last week.  Stories shared about him provided evidence of a full life -- one of adventure, relationship, ingenuity, and care for others.  One that had no room for fear.  Donating vital organs to multiple recipients, he was full of life even in death.  Bittersweet this is.  His loss, his family's deep and painful loss, becomes someone else's gain.  Others gain life because he lost his.  

Despite the weight and severity of a physical death, a loss that makes missing money seem so trivial, I couldn't help but wonder if real loss occurs in a life that is too protected.  When you get on a motorcycle, you know the risks that are involved.  You've seen the accident reports in the newspaper.  You've heard stories from friends.  Perhaps you even know someone who died on a bike.  But you still get on and enjoy the ride, despite the risks, because you are fully alive when you're out there negotiating a tight turn or feeling the wind against your face and hair.  If you never get on the bike at all, you're never fully alive.  In this case, you don't have much to lose.  But is this really a worthy consolation?

So a question emerges during my day of reflection, a day marked by birthday festivities, missing money, and a funeral.  What kind of life are you living?  Is it one where you cling to the securities of material possessions or accomplishments, hover over your children to ensure their physical safety, and attempt to control how others feel about you?  What kind of life is this?  I want to get out on the road, attempt a difficult turn, and feel the wind through my hair.



** This story made me think of the Jesus's caution, recalled in the gospels.  Jesus said, “If any of you wants to be my follower, you must turn from your selfish ways, take up your cross, and follow me. ³⁵ If you try to hang on to your life, you will lose it. But if you give up your life for my sake and for the sake of the Good News, you will save it. ³⁶ And what do you benefit if you gain the whole world but lose your own soul? ³⁷ Is anything worth more than your soul?"  -Mark 8:34-37

Should I keep going, or should I stop?

It's a familiar scene:  I'm out for a run, enjoying the scenery or the conversation, and holding a good pace.  Minutes later, I start to get fatigued.  My muscles feel tired, and I'm starting to drag a bit.  I try to stay with it, to think about how I will push through this discomfort, but fears and weariness start to set in.  Soon, I am afraid that I might burn out or injure myself.  I'm not enjoying this anymore, and I wonder why I keep running anyway.

In the midst of most training runs, regardless of what my training plan says, I find myself debating whether I should push the pace or back off.  Easy runs can become interval workouts and interval workouts can become easy runs depending on the dialogue that ensues in my head.  (Just a side note: are there really "easy" runs?  I rarely feel that a run is easy!)  The questions that I ask myself in this situation are the same as the questions that I ask myself when making decisions in so many other areas of my life when things start to feel difficult or uncomfortable:

How do I know if my fatigue or negative feelings about my _________ mean that it's time to stop?  Or quit?  Or leave?

Should I keep going, or should I stop?

When this happens with running, there are many factors that determine my next move.  A caring spouse, running partner, or race spectator may encourage me to keep with it.  I practice positive self-talk.  I set goals to get to the next phone pole, next quarter mile, next hilltop.  I try quickening the pace to see how my body responds.  On the other hand, a nagging injury, bathroom emergency, or just plain weariness may force me to stop.  It's always difficult for me to choose to stop, even on those occasions when every fiber of my being is telling me that it's the right thing to do.  I'm not a quitter, or at least I don't think I am.  I don't like to admit defeat.

When this happens in other areas of my life, it often seems that there's much more at stake.  How will my decision impact my family, friends, coworkers, or others?  How will it impact my future?  What will others think about my decision?  What will God think?

So today, as I ponder the decisions in front of me, I look back over my life, searching for a pattern, for some wisdom to give me direction as to what to do next.  What I think I truly need is some time with God along with the courage to be honest with myself about who I am, how I feel, and what I want.

Brokenness - first draft

I'm back!  I put off posting for a while because I feel the pressure of having an awesome, polished story worthy of the 6-month wait.  The truth is that I've been super busy, and in all of my busyness, I've neglected some of the things that seem unnecessary.  The reality is that some of these things, like writing, are so very life-giving.  They are necessary.

Anyway, I need to get back in to the practice of writing, so here goes.

As I type this, a tall, kind, black man named Marvin is shattering the glass in one of my front windows.  He arrived a bit ago, ready to repair the window, which has a gaping hole in it from a rock that came through it yesterday.  The rock-throwing incident occurred when I was sitting in the living room, fixed to my computer with a solid, 3-hour block of time to get something accomplished.  The rock ruined my morning.  After it happened, I felt scared and vulnerable.  Who would do something like this?  And why?  Will it happen again?

This incident is just one in a line of others where I've felt that our home has been disrespected by others.  Some would consider our neighborhood unsafe.  So all of these negative feelings about our living situation again started swirling in my head.  Some days, I just want out.  I want an escape to a place that feels safe.  I asked God why He doesn't keep us safe and why I don't feel safe in my own home.  I began to think of some things to be thankful for in the situation: my children weren't home when this happened, no one was hurt, I have awesome and encouraging neighbors.  Maybe something good could come from this annoyance.

When Marvin arrived and began to pry the storm window out, I started apologizing for things: my curtains are dirty, I don't know how to get my windows apart, my windows need to be cleaned too...  


He replied with a high five and the words, "you don't need to apologize.  Jesus loves you."

These words spoke to my heart, and I began to cry.  I've been doing a lot of apologizing lately for not knowing enough or giving enough at my job, for not spending enough time with my family.  Every day, I strive for perfection, but the reality is that this striving leaves me broken and depleted.  I never feel enough.  I'm always apologizing.

As he worked on the window, Marvin, who I learned is a chaplain at the local prison, continued to speak.  Wisdom poured from his mouth.  He preached about how God imparts value to us and about the ministry opportunities that we have in our own neighborhoods.

"God doesn't wait until you are ready to show up."  Isn't that the truth.  My life feels really messy right now, kind of like that broken window.  I wasn't expecting to see God in the middle of my need.  I wasn't expecting God to show up in my house this morning and show me his love and care.  But he did through Marvin, who is Jesus in the flesh to me today -- speaking words of truth, asking me not to worry, reassuring me that things will be alright, fixing my problems.

Can We Talk About This?

I just returned from listening to writer/biologist/cancer survivor/activist Sandra Steingraber give a talk at Franklin and Marshall College.  While devoting most of her time to the topic of hydraulic fracturing, or fracking, in Pennsylvania and New York's Marcellus Shale formation, she questioned why the current state of environmental health doesn't seem to be as much part of our public conversation as things like the state of the economy.  She described how she has been able to easily use online and TV news sources to teach herself about the world's current economic issues, something outside of her technical expertise, but that there doesn't seem to be that same opportunity for public discussion when it comes to our environment.

I agree with Ms. Steingraber, and I wonder how things that are so essential to our life and well-being, such as the air we breathe and the water we drink, are not interesting to us.  Even during the talk today, in a room filled with students, faculty, and community members who were not forced to be there, I noticed that glazed-over look in the eyes of several attendees.

Outside of school environmental clubs and protests staged by tree-hugging adults, why don't we talk about this?  Is it because we can't talk about some environmental processes and their potential health implications with certainty?  Is it because we're opinionated or afraid concerning the financial ramifications?  Is it that the problems seem too vast for us to make any kind of difference?  Is it that it's scary to talk about some of the possible connections between life-style and environmental impact and the resulting human health effects?  Is it that we're afraid to appear too "crunchy"?  Many of these are reasons I tend to keep my mouth shut.

But I'm tired of being quiet.  I'm wondering - can we talk about this?  I don't want to spend time talking to myself; I want to have a conversation.  Can we become, as Ms. Steingraber suggested during her lecture today, several Davids fighting a big Goliath?

Running Through the Pain

One of the things that I love most about running is that it's tough.  I love the challenge - the feel of my heart pumping, lungs taking air in and pushing it out, muscles burning, mind fighting for positive thoughts.  Running is hard.  Perhaps body build, level of God-given ability, and past experience makes running more difficult for some than others, but we're all out there pushing ourselves when we run.

This morning, I had the opportunity to watch the Hands on House Half Marathon.  I'd been planning to be there since my sister told me about her intent to sign up several months ago.  This was not her first half-marathon, but it was her first since receiving a painful health diagnosis this summer.  My sister has always impressed me with her quiet strength - her ability to push through with humility.  I knew this would be a different race for her.  Training was hampered by mornings where she would have difficulty walking or getting her shoes on.  But she kept at it, without complaint or bitterness.  Her achievement today demonstrates her perseverance; she pushed ahead, despite the pain, and finished strong.  Watching her afterwards, it was evident that she didn't have the kind of race that she had hoped for, her disappointment apparent in her face.  But in my eyes, each day that she is out there, putting one foot in front of the other, is a huge accomplishment.  In my eyes, she's a superhero - attempting things that seem impossible for mere humans, hanging tough, inspiring others.


I know this was one of many stories today.  Friends running first half marathons, others running for a cause, the Amish running complete with head coverings or suspenders - they each gave themselves to the process of training and faced something deep within themselves while competing out there today.  When I watch, I wonder about their stories, and I feel their courage and strength.

God has an Idea

A couple of weeks ago, I was lucky enough to attend an uplifting and encouraging event hosted by Girls on the Run of Lancaster.  The featured speaker was Molly Barker, founder of GOTR.  It was a fun time of reflection, as many of us relayed stories of how our involvement as coaches in the program has been life-changing, and particularly how the girl participants have been inspirational to us.

Molly ended with the story that I've included below.  I've thought about it several times over the last few weeks.  While I can't quite pinpoint why this story is so meaningful to me, I think that her telling of the story gave me a lot of hope.  Her words resonated with something inside of me, reminding me of the sacred truth that God has carefully and intentionally created each of us with a specific purpose.  And reminding me of the intimacy that we share with our Creator.


Source: Molly Barker's Blog - Wandering Through Nothingness -  Day 12 -  February 19, 2011

Several years ago, I was walking with a young girl in our program.  It was the last day of our Girls on the Run experience together. Her name is Madeline.  She must have been about 9 years old at the time of our conversation.

“How is it Madeline, that you and I ended up together?” I asked.  ”What’s that all about?”

Madeline paused for only a second or two and then responded with the confidence of a person much older (and wiser) than her years would suggest.

“Well, you see it’s like this,” she said.  ”God has an idea…but he has a problem!  He needs to get the idea down to earth.  So what he does…is wrap a body around the idea so it can be sent here to be born.  Now the ideas inside are all really great and all really big and sometimes they are so big, it might take lots of bodies to come together to get the really big idea out.

And that is, of course, how you get your gifts and talents.  They are God’s tools to help you get the idea from inside of your body out…before your body dies.”

This is, without question, the most profound explanation, I’ve heard for the connection between our human and spiritual selves.  I believe Madeline nailed it!

More Creative Solutions for Drinking Water Woes

The following are a couple of recent New York Times articles featuring innovative solutions for drinking water problems:

LifeStraw Saves Those Without Access to Clean Drinking Water  and


Folding Saris to Filter Cholera-Contaminated Water

What other simple and affordable solutions are out there?  Which ones are culturally acceptable and will work long-term?