embarrassed to be 40…almost

today marks forty days til i turn forty years old. a while back, in an anticipation of this approaching milestone, i set some goals for myself. some spiritual and intellectual. i wanted to read the entire Bible in one year: almost check. i wanted to read fifty books in a year: at forty-nine with almost two months to go (okay, so several of those were young adult fiction but, hey. a books a book, people. back off).

some of my goals were physical and frankly a bit vain. i wanted to be at a certain weight (no way am i telling).  i wanted to be able to run a 10k (currently running a 5k plus at the approximate speed of a sloth but running nonetheless.) and i wanted to be able to do forty pushups (this one might involved so called “girl  pushups” and the need for a crane. the jury is still out.). i might have overestimated the abilities of a four decade old body a wee bit, so i have had to shift some expectations with regards to my physical goals. currently i am ignoring the scale and saying that if i can suck in really hard and stand the sight of my naked body in the mirror we are good.

the final goal i set was to celebrate my birthday in some meaningful way. i am not a center of attention kind of person. granted, i have a blog which is dedicated to sharing my thoughts and feelings but here i can hide behind my computer screen. the thought of well-meaning friends gathering to singing happy birthday has me metaphorically running for the door. i nearly pass out when our pastor reads my prayer requests out loud.

i still wanted to mark “the big day”, however, but how? then i saw some random posting on people celebrating their birthdays through acts of kindness. what a great way to celebrate life!

so i set out to make a plan, mapping out forty days of service. with a limited budget, i am not able to do some of the cool things i saw online. no buying the office starbucks or delivering balloons to everyone on my street. i decided to stick with what i do best, words. i decided to write letters to a bunch of people who represent where i have been, where i am and where i hope to be. people who have helped me get this far.

and here is where i started to get embarrassed. most days i can handle the wrinkles and the belly fat. i have embraced my increasingly finite amounts of energy and decreased tolerance for boy bands. but when i stopped to consider the seemingly endless number of people who have nurtured and supported me over the years, it was truly an embarrassment of riches. i got to 26 in a number of seconds and had to stop in order to make room for “bake cookies for the policemen who keep us safe” and “give suckers to kids grocery shopping with their moms.” i could have easily kept going, but i guess those people will have to wait til i turn fifty.

everywhere i look, people are telling me i should be ashamed of having reached middle age though i can’t imagine the alternative, death, does much for one’s skin tone. but when i think about reaching forty, i am overwhelmed and humbled by all those who have invested in the person i am and the person i am still becoming. forty days from now, i may still not weigh such and such (you didn’t really think i was going to tell you, did you?). i may far short of a 10k and forty pushups. but failing to meet these goals won’t be what i am embarrassed by. nor will it be the wrinkle or the belly fat. if i am embarrassed, it will be by the ridiculousness of my good fortune. it will be by the absurdity of all that has been given to me by way of support and encouragement. so while i plan to spend plenty of time over the next forty days pushing myself to reach some of the physical goals i have set, i hope to spend more time thanking just a few of those who have helped me run a much more important race.

kicking competitiveness to the curb

most people kick their fitness routines into high gear in the spring, getting their bodies ready to hit the beach and lounge poolside. me? i have spent the summer shuttling kids from one baseball game to another with bouts of furniture stripping and closet deep cleaning thrown in for a little variety.

so this week, i said “enough already.” i dragged my flabby behind out of bed at the crack of early mid-morning to run. yesterday, i begged (nagged, pestered, relentlessly beseeched) jim to go with me. i knew his presence would prevent me from turning my morning run into a coffee and doughnut run.

now if you don’t know, jim is a decade and smidgen older than me. one would think this would put me at an advantage in the physical activity department. one would be wrong when it comes to jim. he is redonkulously fit. i won’t even add “for his age” to that sentence. he is also competitive. extremely competitive. he either beats you or makes you feel like he wasn’t really competing in the first place. either he plays brilliant head games or i am the one who is absurdly competitive and have just been projecting all this time.

when we approached our first hill and i managed to pull ahead of him, it was a moment of pure triumph. at the second hill, jim was in the lead but i managed to get to the top first. i felt awesome…until the side cramp and guilt kicked in. what was i doing?!? i had harassed this man, whom i love dearly, into giving up the coziness of bed only to revel in defeating him. not that he really cared. he knows he can beat me in just about any other category you name, but it got me thinking nonetheless.

i was suddenly imaging my fifty-plus year old self huffing and puffing down the road of the life. i certainly wouldn’t want some nearly forty year old pip squeak making her feel bad. “she is trying her best, pip squeak. back off!”

all this to say, that’s what is so amazing about the real race we are all running. we can all win. we can cheer each other on without fear of defeat. in fact, your success is mine because we are all on the same team. by the same token, our failures are shared as well. that means i should be willing to slow down and help pick you up when you stumble. it means i should be ready to show the kind of grace i am hoping for when i fall short. teammates might give one another advice or point out weaknesses in each other’s performances, but this is done not out of competitiveness. it’s done out of love.

of course, this won’t really prevent me from attempting to smoking jim the next time we run together. guess i still have some growing up to do.

 

kicking puppies and the World Vision controversy

being critical of popular writer and speaker Jen Hatmaker feels a bit like kicking puppies. if you are unfamiliar with Hatmaker, she is a blogging, self-depreciating, too-much-info sharing pastor’s wife and author of Seven and Interrupted. she manages to be funny and heartfelt all the while sharing her clear desire to see the Gospel impact the world around her. she also has a great collection of oversized earrings that i confess to greatly envy.

since setting off on my journey to become a published writer, Jen Hatmaker has served as a model for what i would like to achieve; walking that razor-thin line of approachable yet substantive. she is authentic and real but without making excuses or compromising her convictions. do you sense the giant “but” approaching? here it comes…

but, having enjoyed and been inspired by her writing so much in the past made reading her recent blog post regarding World Vision and it’s since reversed decision to allow for the hiring of married gay employees that much more disappointing.

it isn’t Hatmaker’s position on gay marriage that disappoints me since her position is unclear. (she has clarified her position in her latest post if you care to know.) What I find so disturbing is her dangerous mischaracterization of the nature of biblical truth and our ability to discern that truth, all in the name of peacemaking.

Hatmaker says “…the Christian community is not going to reach consensus on gay marriage.” i actually disagree with this view since the church has historically been in agreement on this issue for thousands of years. but putting that aside, supposing that we will never agree, in her opinion, mean that we should throw in the towel and just agree to disagree?

what if the early church fathers had taken this approach regarding the biblical canon or heresies that plagued the early church? Should they have simply thrown up their hands and agreed to disagree? despite her claims that there was a significant lack of agreement among the early church regarding major aspects of the faith, we have hard won creeds and doctrines that have been passed down to us that say differently.

speaking of the early church fathers, this brings me to my second beef with Hatmaker’s assertions that “we” will never agree. when it comes to the church—and i mean the church beyond 21st century evangelical protestant America—and its view of same-sex marriage, there is actually a larger consensus than she is willing to admit. when one takes into account the whole of the church, through history and across continents, the overwhelming majority comes down on the side of traditional marriage. i find it ironic that too often those who claim to speak for the open-minded crowd neglect the opinions and perspectives of literally billions of believers.

Hatmaker asserts that “Thousands of churches and millions of Christ-followers faithfully read the Scriptures and with thoughtful and academic work come to different conclusions on homosexuality (and countless others). Godly, respectable leaders have exegeted the Bible and there is absolutely not unanimity on its interpretation. There never has been.” this is simply not true. it isn’t true of homosexuality and it isn’t true of any of the major tenets of the Christian faith. if it were, we wouldn’t be a single religion but rather a collection of sects.

has there been disagreement among certain traditions regarding issues such as baptism, predestination, and more culturally relevant issues such as slavery and the role of women? absolutely. but there is also a rich history of common ground that as Christians we all enjoy and should fight, yes fight, to defend.

i absolutely agree with Jen Hatmaker that the world needs to see the Church work through these issues with love and respect. i just don’t want to see us sacrifice what is true in the name of let’s-all-just-get-alongitus. for then, if we allow the truth to slip away while we are too busy making nice with one another, what will we have to offer a lost and dying world? what Good News will there be left to tell?

we must wrestle with the truth and with one another not in order to prove we’re right or win points for our side. we must preserve it in order to give it to those who so desperately need it. The truth is there to be discovered and in the end it will set us all free.

redefining modesty

there may still be snow on the ground here in indiana, but there is definitely something new in the air. every year about this time, here and on campuses across the country, young people are gripped by a unique and powerful feeling. no, it isn’t love. It’s spring break panic. girls and guys who have easily concealed a few winter pounds under layers of flannel shirts and bulky sweaters suddenly realize that in a few short weeks they will be donning swimsuits and heading for the beach. so like a herd of panicked animals, they all have stampeded to our university fitness center in a frenzied attempt to shed the extra insulation they have acquired over the last few bone-chilling months.

i find myself fairly immune to this common springtime disease. more truthfully, my case is a chronic one since i am in a constant state of panic about my extra pounds. but i am beyond the ritual of spring break flirtations and only put on swimsuits in public when required by law. i feel the impact of these additional bodies nonetheless and it isn’t the mere inconvenience of fewer available treadmills.

ironically, despite the university’s policy of modest dress for working out, the apparel of these young people often leaves little to the imagination. this seems to beg the question “if you are okay showing the world your love handles and added padding while jiggling about on the elliptical machine, why not save yourself the trouble and go eat another doughnut?”

all these scantily clad bodies create a huge challenge for me, one that i have struggled with for years but have recently come to see in a new light. i used to think of modesty as an issue between men and women, a careful balance of consideration for others (not being a stumbling block to others) and self-control (learning to control your own desires despite what others may or may not be wearing). i have long lectured my kids about the sacred nature of the body and the importance of honoring both our own bodies and those of others. but all this time, i didn’t realize how much i struggled with modesty myself.

there was a time when, unknowingly, i struggled with modesty in the traditional sense. i still cringe when i think of some of the things i wore back in my elastic skinned, belly-button pierced days, but those days are long gone. now i see, however, that modesty isn’t just an issue of sexual struggle. while that is a huge part of it, there is another aspect that has to do with judgmentalism rather than desire. my struggle now is with modesty in a humble sense.

as i have run and jiggled side-by-side with spandex wearing, sport-bra revealing, shirt-ripped-down-the sides so far why even bother, ab showing, young people, my head has been full of judgment and indignation. “don’t you know the rules? didn’t you read the clearly outlined guidelines posted at the door?” while their clothing may violate my sense of modesty, my thoughts are hardly modest either. the dictionary defines modesty as “the quality or state of being unassuming or moderate in the estimation of one’s abilities.” there has been nothing moderate or unassuming in my condemnation; no consideration of their lack of awareness or generational differences in definitions of modesty. i have been blind to the plank in my own eye while ogling the splinter in the eyes of others. how many lectures have i given my kids about looking away from explicit content in movies and tv when i have allowed myself to stare and condemn?

now look, this doesn’t mean that i am suddenly going to start mentally high-fiving those who could use a little more coverage. but two wrongs never make a right. it all goes back to that balance of self-denial (i will deny myself the right to wear leggings as pants) and self-control (i will control myself when others didn’t get the memo about leggings not being pants however self-evident that might seem to me).

i hope this is a new era in which i lift others up rather than tear them down. where i don’t objectify them as a mere body rather than love them as my sister or brother. it is that love that earns us the right to speak into one another’s lives as Christ, through His love and sacrifices, speaks so powerfully to us. maybe spring doesn’t just smell like panic and sweat after all; maybe there is a little love in the air.

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When the black clouds gather most, the light is the more brightly revealed to us. When the night lowers and the tempest is coming on, the Heavenly Captain is always closest to his crew. It is a blessed thing, that when we are most cast down, then it is that we are most lifted up by the consolations of the Spirit. One reason is, because trials make more room for consolation. Great hearts can only be made by great troubles. The spade of trouble digs the reservoir of comfort deeper, and makes more room for consolation. God comes into our heart–he finds it full–he begins to break our comforts and to make it empty; then there is more room for grace. The humbler a man lies, the more comfort he will always have, because he will be more fitted to receive it. Another reason why we are often most happy in our troubles, is this–then we have the closest dealings with God…There is no cry so good as that which comes from the bottom of the mountains; no prayer half so hearty as that which comes up from the depths of the soul, through deep trials and afflictions. Hence they bring us to God, and we are happier; for nearness to God is happiness. Come, troubled believer, fret not over your heavy troubles, for they are the heralds of weighty mercies.

jim and i have had some struggles of late. a totaled vehicle, a scary “episode” of amnesia and now a broken furnace during one of the coldest weeks of the year. but amongst all the broken things, myself included, i feel my Savior’s presence that much more keenly, so worthy of my trust. so willing to carry me along just when i need it most. this quote from charles spurgeon hit home this morning. in the coldness of my house, i feel His warmth that much more. better a cold house than a cold heart.

the wisdom of my lady

when looking for wisdom and insight into parenting, does one really need to look further than the dowager countess of grantham? granted she is character in the fictional world of “downton abbey”. i think, however, this might actually work in her favor. when normal people, you know people who know and love you and who actually exist, give you advice, one doesn’t tend to value it nearly as much as one ought. but dress a woman in period costume, give her a upper class british accent and plunk her down in the midst of manor house glamor and suddenly we are hanging on her every word.

on the topic of parenthood, violet crawley of “downton abbey” delivers some zingers. a personal favorite of late is this one: “one forgets about parenthood. the on and on-ness of it.” a rather obvious fact, that parenthood is an ongoing, years in the making process but in the midst of it, i can forget the forest for the trees. there is always so much in the immediate that demands my attention that i can forget to see the years of parenting i have before me.

in the diaper changing, breastfeeding, sleep-deprived haze of the past, the years ahead seemed remote, a glimmer in the distant future. a place where everyone could tie their own shoes and wipe their own behinds seemed as likely as flying cars and people living on the moon. but now here i am, living in the glimmering independence of self-shoe tying and behind wiping and i see how far this road really goes. life long commitments are like that.either you die soon after making them, hardly ideal, or they last a really long time.

long ago, i accepted that there was no arrival point in marriage, no place to which you “arrived” as a couple, no place where it there were no longer struggles or where compromise was no longer required. there was no happily ever after. there was happiness but it wasn’t a natural bi-product of being married. it required a lot of self-sacrifice and hard-work.

i  have finally realized the same is true of parenthood. i knew about the work and sacrifice part but i associated much of that with the physical demands of younger children. now that my kids are older, i see us moving into a new phase, one that requires a great deal of work but of a different nature. it’s relational work. figuring out what makes each one of them tick, how to make them feel love, how best to communicate constructive criticism without dashing little egos. taking time to teach them the things they need to know and throwing a little bonding time in the midst of life lessons. it’s helping little hands make dough instead of doing it myself or watching action adventure movies instead of romantic comedies. cheering from the sidelines and chauffeuring from here to there and back again.

i think i was waiting for the place where parenting started to get easy, where it was natural and effortless. but as her ladyship says it doesn’t get easier. it goes on and on. and that’s a good thing. we get the amazing privilege of investing in our children for decades. we get to watch them grow and to connect in ways that aren’t possible when they are young. it’s a bit scary as the stakes seem so much higher. their mistakes are no longer solved with a magic eraser and a timeout. but it’s thrilling at the same time. to quote my lady one last time “it’s so encouraging to see the future unfurl. as long as you remember it will bear no resemblance to the past.”

amy’s treadmill workout

recently i have become a mentor mom for MOPS. i will give the disclaimer that i feel woefully under-qualified to mentor anyone but have really enjoyed my time with these young moms. in getting to know my small group at the beginning of the year, i told them that one of my goals is to be in the best shape of my life when i turn forty. at this, all their ears seemed to perk up and they started asking what program i was following to achieve this lofty goal. i first explained that i had just spent the last year homeschooling our four kids. during that time, my workouts mostly involved running to the closet for a moment of calm reflection i.e. hiding from the children before there was yelling and lifting the gallon of ice cream out of the freezer as my end-of-the-day reward.  i wasn’t exactly running marathons before that so wanting to be in the best shape of my life wasn’t sitting the bar too terribly high. still i did share some of my workouts with them and thought you might be interested in knowing what a typical workout looks like for me.

minutes spent picking out what to wear: at least 30; the best part of exercising is the clothes so you might as well enjoy it. in fact, sometimes i just put on workout clothes and call it a day.

minutes spent trying to remember how to get the treadmill to actually start moving: 2, though i can stretch it to 3-4 if i pretend to tie my shoes or adjust my ear buds in the middle to hide the fact that i can’t remember how to turn on the machine.

minutes spent reminding myself not to mouth the words to the killer workout playlist i am listening to: 30; number of minutes i spend mouthing the words cause i forgot to listen to myself: 10.

minutes spent pretending i am racing the person next to me and winning: 30; number of minutes i am actually beating the person next to me: 0.

number of times i get distracted by the televisions or talking to a friend and almost fall of the treadmill: 7; number of times i have actually fallen off the treadmill: 2; 3 if you count making lots of screeching noises with my shoes and managing to catch myself at the last minute.

minutes spent trying to run in sync with the music i am listening to: 30; minutes actually spent running in sync with said music and feeling like a real life rock star: 30 seconds, totally worth the effort.

amount of sweat that pours out of every, and i mean every, surface of my body when running: approximately 12 gallons. amount of water i manage to drink while running in order to replace above mentioned fluids: 2 tablespoons, it’s just too much effort to reach for the water bottle.

number of times, on average, my kids call to ask if they can play minecraft or what is for dinner while i am trying not to fall off the treadmill: 4

total calories burned in an average workout: 300; number of calories burned from actual exercise: 78; number of calories burned by the stress of going to the gym: 222.