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.

 

Share this:

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.

retreating

just wanted to share a bit with you about my latest speaking engagement. this past weekend, i had the privilege of speaking at the salem baptist women’s retreat in knoxville, tennesse. i have to confess to getting major butterflies of the stomach variety when speaking in public. speaking in the community in which i grew up added the pressure of looking into the audience and seeing my high school secretary who knew me when smiling back at me. but these ladies were so kind. it was truly an honor to fellowship with them.

the theme verse for the retreat was psalm 107:2 “Let the redeemed of the Lord tell their story—those he redeemed from the hand of the foe.” the entire psalm is so beautiful as it talks about God’s deliverance of His people, His faithfulness and grace to the undeserving. i loved the fact that the retreat was structured around three things: worshiping God through music, sharing our testimonies and His word.

several women from the congregation spoke about God’s work in their lives and it was so interesting to see the common themes which ran throughout these powerful stories. here are a few of my thoughts on the weekend:

1) we are all Christians but unique individuals called by God to play a special role in His kingdom. it’s easy to start stereotyping and lumping people together but it was so refreshing to see such a wide variety of personalities and life experiences on display. from the young mother to the recently widowed, we all have a place at God’s table.

2) don’t get too wrapped up in the “order” of things. i was so impressed by these women’s willingness to let things run long and value our time together over schedules and structure. this is definitely a challenge to my way of doing things but seeing their hearts so yearning for the Spirit to move helped me to relax and enjoy the ride.

3) prayer works. i can’t tell you how often i felt these women praying for me as i prepared to speak. before each session, they were there as well, gathering around, encouraging me and helping to calm my jitters. their obvious reliance on the Holy Spirit reminded me that my fears are too often centered around my pride rather than God’s purpose.

i can’t say enough to thank these beautiful women who welcomed me into their fellowship. may God bless and keep you all.

Square Peg

for the last several months, i have been wanting to write a post on being a square peg in a round hole. i have been counting down the days still school was done for the year and i could confess what a long academic road it has been. it was my first year teaching four kids at once. first year with a new and much more demanding curriculum. it was overwhelming and there were honesty days when i didn’t think we were going to make it.

i wanted to confess to feeling out of my depth, over my head. i wanted to say that i felt like God brought me to this place where i needed to do something that i just couldn’t do. i kept thinking if i prayed harder or worked harder, He would wave His magic wand and suddenly i would be transformed into the serine, unflappable mom who always keeps her cool or the fun mom who says “the heck with the laundry! let’s play monopoly.” instead, i was the overwhelmed mom hiding in her room watching “antique roadshow” cause she just couldn’t take it anymore.

when i went to write this post about how God obviously mis-assigned me, i couldn’t quite do it. it sounded whiny and ungrateful. ungrateful for all the amazing times we had this year. ungrateful for the experiences i got to share with my kids this year. we laughed, we cried, we conquered pre-alegebra.

when i was preparing to have our first baby, jim used to tell me that trying to get away from the pain only made things worse. if you focused on, looked it right in the eye and called its bluff, it wasn’t as bad. it still hurt but you didn’t get lost in it; you didn’t let it win. i think that’s what i did this year. i kept trying to wiggle out from under the discomfort i was in, trying to reorganize my way out of it rather than accepting it as a natural part of the process.

i often hear people talk about how moms need to make time for themselves because if they are happy and fulfilled then it will trickle down to their kids. i am not so sure that happiness should really be our end goal. what if i am called to be happy in the pain rather than looking for ways to kill the pain altogether? what if God doesn’t give us the luxury of happiness but calls us to something higher? maybe all this time i was making the pain worse by not accepting it as what it really is, God’s hand molding me to His own purpose, the smoothing out of my sharp corners. after all, who is the pot to tell the Potter what shape best fits His purpose?

don’t take this as “therefore, we should be at home full-time, making ourselves (and our children) as miserable as we possibly can. i think God calls moms to all sorts of uncomfortable places, in and out of the home. in an imperfect world there are no perfect choices. only faith in a perfect Creator who we can trust to work on those rough spots out in our ultimate favor.