I’ll touch on the weight loss/running stuff. Still losing. Still hitting my calorie target most days, and ALL weeks. (Still loving the ‘Lose It” app–one day a little over, one a little under seems to keep my metabolism moving best, and I can tell I’m still hitting a weekly target, which seems to work well for me). Still feeling the effects from the 45-minute run over a week ago when I was supposed to go 30… It felt GREAT at the time. And sore after. Ok. Expected. But on the TWO (yes, only 2) runs since, it’s felt painful. Had a quick exam. I pi$$ed off my ITBand the tendon attachments both proximal and distal to the adductors on the inner thigh. This is screwing with my gait when I run, and then pi$$ing off the glutes and piriformis on the opposite side. I had to quit 25 minutes into my last 30 minute (excruciatingly slow) run because it hurt, even going easy. I have been advised to rest for at least a week. I’ve taken 2 days off and have no pain. Now I want to run tomorrow. I haven’t decided yet. If I do, it will be the flat trail, slowly. 😦 I’ve shed tears over this. Me, who couldn’t run a minute. I just don’t want to quit. I’m terrified that I’ll quit with a week off. I know I touched on some of this yesterday, but there’s all the details. We’ll see what tomorrow holds.
What’s really been on my mind these last few days is faith. It’s God, but maybe not church. I was raised to believe Christian philosophy. I have learned to respect and honor the beliefs of all-don’t we all believe what we were raised to believe? At base, I believe the basic tenets are the same. Love one another. Treat others as you wish to be treated. Go forth and do good. And then my hard times came. A night came when I honestly feared for my own safety, at my own hand. But I had my little monkey, sleeping in the next room. It wasn’t that I wanted to die, but life had become so dark and so sad that I saw no other way to make the pain end. I prayed. I’d found an old cross that I’d had on a keychain as a teenager that day by chance. I held it in my hand and I prayed like I’d never prayed in my life. From that day, just over a year ago, forward, my life was changed.
A new friend asked me a few days ago if I had a ‘home church.’ I answered that my home church is pretty much my garden. I’m sure he took it as the flip response of a non-believer. An excuse. In reality, that night that I prayed, that night I could have died, I felt–mentally, physically, emotionally, spiritually–the power of God to lift me out of that dark place. Radical changes occurred in my life in the months that followed. I moved back to my hometown, without a job to move to, because it was what I felt led to do. And I started that garden I speak of. To me, church is where you go to feel close to God. And to me, it’s not a room full of strangers. It’s me and God, and the prayers I send, and the peace I receive. He leads me to take that peace and that light, and to give it away. That’s what keeps me going in a job that isn’t what I always wanted, is that I can spread that light and that joy, some days to those who need it the very most. I’m good at what I do, but only because He gives me the light to shine.
Confidentiality laws keep me from saying much about the last few days and the people I think of as I type this blog. 2 people, both with large and supportive groups of family and friends. One with faith, one without. Both who greatly appreciated my care, both who are wonderful people I will continue to pray for. One whose family I bowed my head to pray with today. And one who I spoke to about the end of life, and the fact that God is there whenever andif ever he wants to talk to him. Because even if he’s given up on God, God hasn’t given up on him. He has my phone number. I’ll do anything I can to help, and will pray with him or bring him a pastor if that’s what he’s ready for. But my heart aches for him. My hard times seem so small in comparison, yet I have no idea what I’d do without my faith to carry me through them.
What does any of it mean for me? I may never see either of these people again. But I have been moved deeply by these past few days. For my friend who asked, I attended his church last Sunday. But I’ll still feel closer to God, right here in my backyard, planting the seeds, watching what He does with them. I’ll still feel more like I’m doing His work waking up in the morning and reflecting that light back to the people I come in contact with (some days that’s hard work). I still feel that when my responsibilities here are satisfied, I want to go to less fortunate areas of this world and spread a little of that light there. And somehow, because I don’t fit the prototype of a “good” Christian…I don’t go to church regularly. I drink a bit now and then. I still smoke…I see people who consider me to be non-Christian and/or non-religious. Maybe they’re right. But when my mind flips through the bible I know, it tells me I don’t have to be perfect. I don’t have to be all fixed. I just have to be here, and open, and ready to serve. And I am. I’m tired of judgement right now. I just want to pray for those who need prayer, I just want to open up the blinds and let the sunshine in, I want to explain the hard things and cry with the ones who need to cry, then hold their hands as they take their next step, whatever it may be.
I’m sure some of this is hard to follow. It’s not drink, it’s mostly just protecting private information. It’s been a hard few days, but in a good way. I’m doing the work I’m supposed to do right now.