A year ago Michael and I completed the Dopey
Challenge at Disney. We trained 28 weeks so we could cover 48.6 miles over the
course of 4 days. Initially, we signed up because this was a big goal of mine,
and achieving it on my 45th birthday seemed like a good idea. Half way through
our training, during long training runs, God gave us a dream to raise $16,000
for Olivia's Basket, to fund the building of two homes for families in need in
Mexico. When the training days were hard, cold, and rainy, and the distances
and time on the road increased, thinking of those families, the givers and the
recipients, kept us going, motivating us to keep moving consistently in the
forward direction.
I had read once about an ultra runner who had
set a crazy big goal, and once she achieved the goal, she never ran again. Not
because she couldn’t, but simply because she wasn’t able to see any goal higher
than the one she had achieved. In her mind she had reached the pinnacle of all
goals, and there was nothing left to reach for in her running world. Somewhere
along the days of the past year, that has happened to me. I think I realized it
one morning while trying to make myself train for the Star Wars run. I kept
wondering why I was out there. Because really, as much as I love shiny Disney
medals, they aren’t really worth all the effort and time needed to cross the
finish line. And when I didn’t really train for the run, I realized they are
worth even less.
While in the Dopey Challenge I found purpose
and people to run for beside myself, I also lost myself along the way. Over the
past year, that loosing of self escalated when I entered a season of
intentional self-care in the area of mental/emotional health. Looking into the
past has been hard. “Reliving the past” through various counseling techniques
has been painful and more than unsettling. Over the past few months I have felt
stuck, like I’m falling through a liminal space of darkness. Loneliness
threatens to consume. My brain threatens to explode with all the analyzing and
thinking and questioning and wondering that happen. All. The. Time. My heart
has been laid wide open and has been encouraged to truly feel, to examine and
allow hurts of past experiences be fully felt. What I’ve learned is the body
keeps score. Traumas endured are tucked away into the memory of my cells, the
very fibers of being. The extent of this tucking away is staggering. Science
has shown it to be true. So these past hurts, while in the past, are actually
always, always very present. They have shaped my survival skills and coping
mechanisms, my habits and thoughts. They even shape the way my body systems
function. Crazy, right?! Of course this has mostly happened on a subconscious
level. Still, they dictate everything from the way I interact with others, how
I manage stress, and what I think about myself, others, and God. They are the
voices that echo in my ears telling me I’m not good enough, that if I work just
a bit harder and do things just a bit better, someone, God, anyone, will notice
and love me. Because its a messed up, convoluted ball of yuck shoved into deep
pockets of brain and heart tissues, understanding the origin of those pains
takes time and courage. Exploring those dark pockets of hurt has been divinely
driven. Really, there is no other way I would have walked that path if it
weren’t for God’s leading. I’ve discovered this is the true work of dying to my
old self and allowing God to bring to fruition the new creation that is me, to
give me a new heart and allow me to breathe holy. It’s a tomb of hard space
where this resurrection happens.
So here’s the deal, between the lack of people
and purpose to run for, and doing the hard work of digging deep and seeking
Divine healing and wholeness, I’ve forgotten. I have forgotten why I run, who I
am, and who I am called to be. I’ve forgotten the beauty of sweat rolling down
my neck, a heart that beats fast, breath that slows even, and a mind that
clears when I’m on the road. I’ve forgotten how the veil between heaven and
earth pulls back to allow me to see heavenly things, true and good. I’ve
forgotten the sound of my feet on the pavement and Jesus’ sweet voice
whispering in my ear. I’ve forgotten how prayer turns into true conversation
with the Spirit, words from me and words from Wonder, woven together to reveal
beauty, truth, and direction. I’ve forgotten how good it is to be alone, to
have space to both lay things down and pick things up from the asphalt surface.
I’ve forgotten the gift of noticing the small song of a distant bird, a penny
lost, and the smile of an oncoming runner. I’ve forgotten that I function at a
healthier level when I faithfully strap on the shoes and make my way out the
door to either the local streets or the treadmill. I’ve forgotten…
But here’s the rest of the deal, in that
forgetting, I’ve learned, actually I’ve experienced, I’m way more than I
thought I was, that I’m called to go places I never imagined, and I’ve been
given a voice to speak the hard, good, and lovely, to those placed in my path.
I’ve experienced unconditional love where I thought there was none. I’ve
experienced God’s Presence in the dark and in the light. I’ve experienced the
profound companionship of his silence. I’ve experienced God hurts when I hurt
and rejoices when I rejoice. I’ve experienced God's never-ending patience,
tenderness, and grace. I’ve experienced hope when I felt hopeless, help when I
most needed it, and provision every step of the way. For that, and countless
more, I’m grateful.
So today, I remember. I remember words God
gave me 18 months ago, on 3 different occasions over the course of 2 weeks (When
that happens, I take notice). I remember, “Its always darkest before the dawn.”
The light is coming; it’s just under the horizon. So I will run and wait
for it to emerge, simply because I can.
