On Missing People

This is not an original thought, I'm sure, but when I was running just a little while ago,  I realized the poignancy of being in human in this respect: we are able to miss things before they're gone--the love of your life before they say good night to leave you, a child before he is fully grown, and a parent before he dies. 

We were created to dread separation, crave unity and kinship, and long to share life.

I am missing some people. Some are already gone, and some are in the process of going. I miss them all. Sometimes, it all looks hopeless.

"But if we already have what we hope for, there is no need to keep on hoping. 25 However, we hope for something we have not yet seen, and we patiently wait for it. 26 In certain ways we are weak, but the Spirit is here to help us. For example, when we don’t know what to pray for, the Spirit prays for us in ways that cannot be put into words.27 All of our thoughts are known to God. He can understand what is in the mind of the Spirit, as the Spirit prays for God’s people. 28 We know that God is always at work for the good of everyone who loves him.[d]" ~ The Book of Romans

I am grieving, but not without hope. If I knew the ending of the story, there would be no call for faith or hope, and those are beautiful things you don't want to miss out on in this life. 

"Maybe it's not about the happy ending. Maybe it's about the story." I have hope for a happy ending. But I have faith for a great story. Holding on, holding on. 

The Poor Man's Exercise Room: Maybe It's Not About the Happy Ending; Maybe It's About the Story

It's the poor man's exercise room. It used to look like this, when the twins lived here. Now it looks like the second pic.  There is also an elliptical machine opposite the treadmill. And a large exercise ball rolling around, in the way, mostly.

This is the repurposed baby dresser. It now holds hand weights, running clothes and fans.

This is my view in the early morning from the treadmill. Kind of dreary. Not long after I took this pic, a runner went gliding by.

The bulletin board beside the treadmill is for motivational sayings and photos I'd like to put up. Right now, the phrase is, "Maybe it's not about the happy ending. Maybe it's about the story." I wrote that there after the twins were taken by their mom. I've been thinking the phrase doesn't apply well to running, but maybe it does. I'll never finish fast or with flash (the perfect happy ending). But it's more about the race itself, the journey, the obstacles and small victories (the story). And a happy ending doesn't have to be a "perfect" one.

So I'll never have a awesome space for working out. I'll never break a record, probably not even my personal best. I'll never have a stride and pace like the guy who ran past as I stepped on the treadmill. But I'm committed. I'm achieving. I'm overcoming. I'm moving. I'm challenging myself. I'm growing. I'm learning. And those are all important facets of a really good story. 

Mugged by Muggers

Oh, how innocent they look.

But this morning, I was fixing their first bottles of the day, when all of a sudden I felt 40 hands pulling on my sweat pant legs. Then I heard a chorus of wails, completely synchronized: "WAIIIIIIL, {breath} WAIIIIIL, {breath}". I'd been hit by the shortest, swiftest gang in town.

They pulled my waist band down over my hip. De-pantsed me, if you will. Mugged, by the scoundrels pictured in the mug shot above. Has anybody seen this gang of two? Oh yeah--there they are! Headed for the outlets, cords and every other dangerous thing in this town.