Thoughts of a Tired Brain

It's almost the end of a long, long week and I'm sitting here relishing the thought that I don't have to set my alarm tonight. I never really sleep in much... not past 7:30 anyway... but if I wake up to an alarm I always feel like I want another half hour of sleep, no matter what time it is. Since I'm not setting my alarm clock tonight and have the luxury of sleeping till 10:00 if I so desire, I'll probably wake up at 6:00 wide awake and ready to conquer the world.

Life recently has been full of ups and downs, extremes of sadness and happiness, new physical and mental challenges, and emotional confusion. Yet I'm more peaceful now than I've ever been in the past year and a half. Through the turmoil I find, at the end of the day, that it is well with my soul. I thank God for this, because circumstances have certainly not created it... He has.

As many of you know, I quit my job at the gym and now nanny full time for a family in great need. Their situation could not be more heartbreaking. They mention often how much they appreciate me being there and the sacrifices I made, but I have to say that I think I am the one who is privileged by being able to be part of their family for a little while. I am the one indebted to them for showing me in action a faith and trust and patient hope that I've rarely had the opportunity to observe in the past.

It seems strange to me sometimes how the mundane, routine, day to day bits of life continue on no matter what catastrophic, life changing, or extraordinary events happened in between. I remember noticing this after I won the national championship for hammered dulcimer 2 years ago. I got home and I think I was less excited than anyone else in my family. It was almost depressing, in a way. I recognized that while I had a trophy sitting in my closet, nothing in life really changed. I still had to sleep at night, I still had to brush my teeth in the morning and eat meals and laugh at myself when I tripped on the stairs and talk to people using the language I've always used. I suppose in some irrational way I expected my world to stop or something... that it would all suddenly be DIFFERENT somehow. But no... "Life keeps movin' on, through the sunshine and the storm" and not a whole lot changes, even when seemingly "dramatic" events take place.

I see this now with the family I'm nannying for. The mother has such an amazing attitude through it all. No matter what terrible (or wonderful ) news has arrived, she still functions each day as if everything were normal, to the extent that she can. Though she can hardly walk around the parameter of their yard or put on her own shoes, she doesn't expect the world to stop for her. She dives into each day, each moment, seeking strength for that moment only. Yes, she is looking for a cure and hoping for complete healing and fighting hard to get well... but life goes on while those things are still uncertain. Her hope and strength come from confidence that the God she trusts in is good, that He has the power to heal her, and therefore, if he chooses not to, He will make all things good regardless. She faces each day not with the overarching thought that "I have cancer" but rather "The Lord gives and the Lord takes away; blessed be the name of the Lord."

May I learn to love Him that completely... so that He may be most glorified.

Normalacy

Is life ever really "normal?" What defines normal, anyway?

By any definition, I think my life for the next few months will be the opposite. I'm learning to be thankful that God does not generally give us four children at once, and that they generally come to us as infants and not 4, 5 and 6 year olds.

Pray for Nichole Greene. Her blog

Tidbits

Sagging Pants Ban Deemed Unconstitutional

Sometimes I miss being a reporter.

****

I promised I would not blog again until I could write about something cheerful and lighthearted. Life is full of amazing people and wonderful little moments and unspeakable blessing... and yet my blog entries are so weepy and whiny. My episodes of introspection always seem to come during the gloomy times.

I planned months ahead to get this weekend off. I work Saturdays and it's hard to find a sub, but I was determined to get in one more backpacking trip before the mountains get to chilly, so I grabbed the one weekend available in September and planned what looked like an amazing trek to Maria Lakes and Mount Lyell. Then I got sick.

Sooo... I was tempted to feel a little weepy and whiny. Instead, I laughed at myself.

I laughed because I was so disappointed that I was going to be forced to sleep in a comfortable bed all weekend, instead of on the hard ground. I was going to spend my evenings curled up on the couch with a cup of tea enjoying a movie instead of freezing to death trying to clean my contacts outside with a Nalgene full of icy water, and shredding my fingers attempting to open bear canisters so I could get to dinner. I was going to enjoy relaxing hot meals instead of half-cooked instant noodles and trail mix.

I'm not so bad off I suppose!

****

I missed church today, due to a stubborn hacking cough that refused to be soothed with throat drops. Ours is a casual and unpretentious church, but a seal barking in the middle of service would be distracting, and hence, so would I be.

Instead, I read my Bible and got a little farther along in the book "In Two Minds" by Os Guinness. It's interesting and relevant to me right now. It's a long book, but if I ever finish it, look for a review. :)

I Lift My Eyes to the Hills, part 3

Mom went yardsaling last weekend and came home with a treadmill. I think something is wrong with the belt, because it makes the most terrifyingly obnoxious noise when you turn it on – somewhat akin to a roller coaster ascending a hill. We have a backpacking trip coming up next weekend so I use it anyway. And I can’t really complain because it was free!

While jogging along amid the clamor this morning, I tried to imagine myself surrounded by the breathtaking views and intoxicating air of the Sierras instead of the musty, dusty darkness of our garage. Birds chirping instead of treadmills clacking and all that.

There are many obvious parallels between a mountaineering trip and the Christian life. There is the narrow path, sometimes hard to see and difficult to follow, but so vital. Straying from that path could easily mean death.

There is the goal. The prize. It waits up there for you, beckoning you on, motivating you to keep toiling through the difficult parts of the journey.

There is the path itself that sometimes seems to take you directly away from where you want to be.

There is the view of the summit, which sometimes seems so close and so easy to reach… and then you round a corner only to find that layer upon layer of hills and valleys between you and your goal.

There are the stretches of trail along the way that seem almost insurmountable – simply too difficult, too tiring. But there, in the middle of the wilderness, you really have no choice. You begin to find out that you have strength and stamina beyond your expectations, and when pushed to the limit, you can achieve things you never imagined.

And then there is the summit itself - ALWAYS worth every drop of sweat, every blister and aching muscle – no matter how difficult the journey to get there. Not only is the beauty overwhelming and breathtaking and goosebump-inspiring, but all the hours of toiling are suddenly the farthest thing from your mind.

There is one other comparison that came to me that very first day when I caught the mountaineering bug. It was reinforced in the most powerful way on my first trip two years later, and it still exhilarates me on every summit. I’ve tried to write about it before, but it never comes out right; it sounds almost irreverent – but irreverence is truly the opposite of what I intend.

Mountains teach me about fearing God. My attitude toward God is, on a much grander scale, the same as my attitude toward mountains.

I used to be confused when the Bible talked about fear. Aren’t we supposed to love God? Even as our father? Isn’t He our comforter, our refuge, our stronghold? Where does fear fit into that? You don’t run to that which you fear, do you?

Yet there is a kind of fear that draws you in. The kind that leaves you on the edge of your seat, breathless. It is closer to awe and amazement than to the kind of fear that pushes you away. You want to get near it but you don’t feel worthy or able. Once you do get near it – once you taste a little bit of it – you are addicted. You can’t get enough of it.

It is mysterious. You never get to the end of it. You could spend your whole life exploring it and trying to wrap your mind around it... and you would never succeed, but the attempt would be more than worth the effort.

Trials

Sometimes the hottest part of the fire comes when we have to accept that we don't always know how to grow.

People ask me "What did you learn from that trial?" I don't know how to answer. I don't know what I was supposed to learn.

I wish I did. I tried to find out. I begged God to show me. For a year I waited on Him to reveal what He was doing back in that dark tunnel I walked through. It would have made the suffering so much more tolerable, to be able to point at something specific that I learned because of it.

But God doesn't always grant us that insight.

So we just look up and press on.

I wish I could write like this...

The lyrics to one of my current favorite songs:

I will show you love like you’ve never loved before
I will go the distance and back for more if you just say the word

You will come alive again and call the trying times your friend
The pain that you have suffered through will never get the best of you
You will hope in something real that won’t depend on how you feel
When you call my name then I will answer, answer

I am on your side though the wind and waves beat against your faith
You were on my mind when the world was made
Trust in me my child, Trust in me my child

Walk out on the water where you have no control
So scared to death of failure you sacrifice your soul, please let that go

You have climbed an uphill road, You have worn a heavy load
You have cried through endless nights and nearly given up the fight
Watched your dreams like falling stars the heartaches made you who you are
Now looking back you see that I have always been there

Where you gonna hide? Where you gonna hide from Me?
Where you gonna go? Where you gonna go that I can’t see?

I have heard you cry and it breaks my heart for I love you so
I would never lie, this is not the end there is still a hope

"I Will Show You Love"
Kendall Payne

Tumbling

Life tumbles by.

Like a stone hurtling down a hill, haphazard, in jerks and bumps, slowing momentarily only to hit a steeper bit and leap with a jolt into the air, catapulting on faster than ever. Like a tumbleweed rolling across the yard, tumbling aimlessly, snagging on a bush and pausing for a time, then catching a breath of wind and scuttling in a trembling scurry over the hill.

There are moments to savor slowly, like this evening on the front porch as I watched orange sherbet clouds streak across a powdery summer sky. But even in those moments of life in slow-motion I felt a breeze against my face and it was not the warm sagey-smelling breeze of mid-summer, but the clear coolness that told me autumn is not far off. And I knew that life is still tumbling on.

I want to stop for a moment, get my bearings, determine just where it is I'm headed, instead of barreling on this disorienting, exhausting, exhilarating way. But life has no breaks, and even if it did, God only grants us light to see one step at a time; the future would remain shrouded in mystery.

So I might as well enjoy the tumble if I can.

I Lift My Eyes to the Hills Part 2

That last entry wasn't supposed to be a cliff-hanger, I just got interrupted and posted it half-done. I hate to disappoint, but really nothing dramatic happened. Daniel's Finnish candies worked better than lozenges on my sore throat, and all six of us made it to the top of Mount Langley.

Standing there on the summit with the wind nipping my cheeks and my labored breathing and pounding heart slowing to their usual paces, I thanked God for His creation, and especially for the powerful lessons I have learned through His creation about Himself. He obviously knows that I understand things best when they are explained to me through illustrations and metaphors and comparisons, because He has used mountains and my experiences backpacking over and over as pictures of different facets of my relationship with Him.

I have had an almost reverent fear of mountains ever since one particular day when I was traveling with my family through the Canadian Rockies. It was a gray, cloudy, misty day, and the road we were driving was flanked on the right side by a small valley, and then an enormous, towering range of peaks that showed bits and pieces of themselves for fleeting moments through the clouds. We had spent the past several days in the vicinity, driving through mountains, around mountains, and over mountains. The beauty of the place was truly too much to take in. From the minute detail of tiny wildflowers tucked next to a rock, to the sweeping views of entire mountain ranges, layer upon layer, none of it could have been more perfectly designed to take away the breath and make me want to sit and drink it all in for the rest of my life, even if a thousand artists worked together for centuries.

That day I was sitting in the back seat of the car and I remember coming to a sop because of roadwork going on up ahead. It had been a long drive. I leaned my chin on my hand and glanced out the window. Above us, the clouds churned in dark masses. For an instant they parted, allowing me to catch a glimpse of a silvery gray, rocky summit. I distinctly remember the thoughts that bolted through my head in rapid succession.

First, I had an intense impulse to get up into that mountain and find out what mysteries and surprises and adventures it held. I wanted to climb its slopes, and see the view from the top. I wanted to discover everything there was to discover about it, and perhaps never come down again.

Then, I was overwhelmed with the thought of "where would I even start??" I had never climbed or backpacked before, but I had already noticed the deceptiveness of mountains - that what looks like a nice little triangle peak from 15 miles away may look quite different from one mile away, and certainly looks entirely different once you get right up next to it. In fact, you never do seem to be "right up next to it" because it just sort of melts into the surrounding landscape once you start getting close. It didn't seem to me as though one could simply hop out of the car and stroll on up into the mountain... but if not, how did one go about it? I wanted someone to show me.

My third thought was one of fear. Who knew what calamity might occur if I ever were to attempt conquering a mountain like that? Wild animals... rock slides... falls from towering heights... inclement weather... etc etc. I concluded that the view from the car window was quite thrilling enough - why look for more?

Because there was beauty up there... beauty that I couldn't even conceive of.

And from that moment I was addicted. I knew I wanted to go mountaineering.

I Lift My Eyes to the Hills Part 1

A series attempting to explain my obsession with backpacking/mountaineering/all things Sierra-ish

Last weekend I took a Saturday off for the first time since I started working at the gym seven months ago. Working Saturdays has been a drag since week one. I've missed climbing trips, family events, overnight stays with the C's, even camping... You name it, I've missed it. But this time I knew I had to make it happen. The occasion: a dear friend's 21st birthday, and a trip to the Sierras to celebrate.

I've been almost addicted to backpacking, and especially mountaineering, since my first trip three summers ago. This tightwad spent almost $200 on a single piece of equipment after that first excursion, for a royal blue Osprey Ariel 60 backpack. It's my little home on my back, and I love it like a pet. Big enough to carry enough gear for a weekend mountaineering trip or an extended trip in fair weather, it is also small enough to force me to pack light.

Our destination this time was the Cottonwood Lakes area on the south end of the eastern Sierras. I was so busy at work the weeks leading up to the trip, I hardly paid any attention to the details of where we were going or when; all I cared about was that I would soon be breathing alpine air. In our planning emails sent amongst our group of six the idea of summitting Mt. Langley got tossed around briefly. Few experiences have thrilled me more than pushing my body past what I thought it capable of doing and getting to the top of one of those magestic peaks to look down on views too beautiful to take in and feel myself almost literally on top of the world... so I was not opposed, although I didn't know if I was in shape to do my first 14-er, and it was our birthday girl's first-ever backpacking trip.

I got off work Thursday afternoon, looking forward to being away from work for four consecutive days. I was exhausted, and my stop at the gym only beat me down farther instead of giving me extra energy like it usually did.

The rest of the team showed up at our house that evening to pack our gear. Packing my backpack is always the thing that really gets me excited about a trip. The anticipation was starting to build... so I decided to ignore the scratchiness in my throat that was not going away.

Music

A few months ago, shortly after my dad put a CD player in my car (ah bliss… thanks Dad!), I burned five “favorites” CDs from the many hundreds of songs in my iTunes library. Most of the music is imported from family CDs I grew up listening to. It’s all great music… but I’m getting tired of it.

So I’m on a quest to find more.

I recently realized how limited my musical exposure actually is. I listen almost exclusively to the aforementioned family stuff (which includes a lot of instrumental Celtic and bluegrass, a little bit of contemporary Christian, some classical, and some oldies), and modern country (I got very familiar with this genre while working for a lady who played KHAY 24/7 for her rabbits. I took care of her rabbits, hence the familiarity).

One reason for this lack of musical well-roundedness is that I’m a tightwad. I can’t bring myself to spend $15 on a CD that I might not like. Another reason: I’m kinda picky. Few albums contain more than a handful of songs I really enjoy.

I’ve been trying hard lately to broaden my musical horizons. iTunes has helped. I can pick and choose the individual songs I want so that I don’t blow $$ on something I’ll never listen to. And the 30-second clips can give me a fairly good idea if it’s something I’m interested in. The problem is it’s so overwhelming. Too many choices! Where do I start?!

This is where you, dear reader, can help me. If you are so inclined, please comment with a few of your all-time, no-doubt-about-it, love-this-stuff-like-none-other favorite artists and/or albums and/or songs. Don’t tailor it to what you think I might like. The music I enjoy sometimes even surprises me.

You just might help determine what comprises the next “Shawni’s Favorites” CD. And if that’s not an incentive, what is?? (haha)

Timmy was mesmerized with the goldfish in the bowl on our counter. My 3-year-old birthday buddy stood there on his tip toes watching them intensely.

"Let me take your picture with the fish, Timmy," his mom said.

He turned toward the camara.

"Smile!"

Timmy started to smile... turned suddenly toward the fishbowl... peered inside for a moment.

"Turn around, I didn't take it yet."

He turned back around with a very serious look on his face and pointed his thumb at the fishbowl.

"He won't smile, Mom."

The Fun and Fit Files, part 2

After a nerve-wracking interview with the owner of the company, I got the job. I was thrown into the thick of things before I had time to ask what a back hip circle is. During my first week in the office the facility director was dealing with the sticky situation of an instructor who went on vacation and never came back. It was but a small taste of what lay ahead.

I learned two all-important lessons during that first week.

#1. An office staffed exclusively with females = drama.
#2. A shockingly large number of parents are, if not actually psycho, terrifyingly close to it.

The two intersected and became especially problematic when said females had to deal with said crazy people.

I don't claim to defy any stereotypes of emotional women. But I do have a sense of humor. When Mrs. Difficult Mom complained that she didn't know her tuition was due, after we had painstakingly called every single parent to remind them... TWICE... I pasted on my smile, apologized, took her late payment, and then had a good what-can-you-do-about-it laugh when she was gone.

Let's just say my coworkers took a less lighthearted view of such situations. Perhaps cynicism comes with time?

The Fun and Fit Files, Part 1

Five months ago I pulled into the parking lot on the corner of Soledad and Valley Center Drive for the first time. I was a good 15 minutes early for my job interview, so I parked in front of the door with the sign on top that read “Fun and Fit Gymnastics Center” and turned on KHAY Country. It was a sappy love song playing so I shoved in a Chris Thile CD. No words to remind me of anything, just noise to keep me from thinking.

A tear unexpectedly trickled out of my eye and dripped down my cheek into my mouth. Oh great, I’m crying. Just what I need right before an interview. I squeezed both lids tightly shut against the rainstorm gathering behind them and rued the fact that my nose turns red the instant I start fighting tears.

I took one deep, shaky breath in and out and the ache gripping my throat loosened its hold. Another breath, steadier this time, and I cautiously opened one eye, then the other. I peeked in the rear view mirror. Nothing betrayed me but a dampness at each corner of my eyes, and that I whisked away with the back of my hand. I turned up the music and leaned my head back against the seat.

There I sat, neck deep in my own worries and sorrows. Hardly thinking about what lay ahead, just going through the motions. Existing but not living. Surviving one moment at a time.

Inside the building in front of me bustled a little world of its own. A handful of people who made it run, and a few hundred kids who kept it alive by coming in each week and spending an hour stretching, jumping, swinging, flipping, tumbling through the gym.

When I walked in that day it was empty inside except for a girl in the front office. I would come to learn that afternoons are the slowest time at the gym, and in an hour or two the place would be bursting at the seams.

“I’m here to see Christine,” I said.

“Okay… what’s your name?” the girl looked 20 or so and seemed slightly irritated about something.

“Shawni.”

“Shawni?”

“I’m here for an interview.”

The girl disappeared into the back office. A tall, middle aged woman with glasses reappeared in her place.

“Hi Shawni, I’m Christine.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Come on back and we’ll have a chat.”

On my way into her office she introduced me to the girl behind the counter.

“This is Amanda.”

Amanda smiled and I decided she wasn’t irritated, just shy.

The interview went fine. Christine liked me and didn’t seem to notice that anything was wrong. As I walked out I realized that for the first time in a long time I was in a place where no one knew me at all. No one knew anything about me, my background, my beliefs, my personality. I felt a strange relief. They didn’t know that I used to smile all the time, so they wouldn’t think something was the matter when I didn’t smile. They didn’t know that a week ago I had thought I would be getting married next summer, so they wouldn’t wonder when I didn’t mention his name in conversation. I could pretend none of that ever happened while I was within the four walls of the gym.

And the people there… just faces for now, but I knew that behind those faces lay stories. I drove home hoping to hear back from Christine soon so I could find them out.

Spring

Crocuses are my new favorite flower!

Regrets about the past
Haunting, unrelenting
Fear of what’s ahead
Sinister, foreboding
I seek a place of comfort
Quiet, calm and restful
Nowhere is free from hurt
Associations painful

Hopes all disappointed
Shattered, cold and empty
Goals left unattained
Never quite forgotten
My God, You promised victory
Strength to overcome
Yet still I stumble daily
Sin my feet ensnares

Struggling to my feet again
Exhausted, near despairing
In weakness I find, at last
A guiding hand

My faith has found a resting place
Tranquil, undisturbed
My soul can rest in peace
Quiet as the dawn
Now at the feet of God
Kneeling, bowing down
Letting Him control me
Obedient submission

In this bondage I am free
Complete, no fears abide
I now bow to it willingly
Eager to be bound

Today

The sky was blue
A blue I'd never seen before
And smudged with creamy clouds

The air was sweet
I smelled spring coming
And saw it in the budding trees

The sunlight was rich
Richer than the purest gold
Gently pushing away the last wisps of winter

The breeze was playful
Like a teasing puppy
Chasing me across the yard and up the hill

The mountains were regal
Silhouetted against the sky
And bathed in purple light

The sunset was breathtaking
All shades of fiery orange
Slowly cooling into a velvet dusk

My heart was light
Hopeful. Peaceful. Whole.
And I drank this in, and thanked the Lord.

God is Good

The more we believe that God hurts only to heal, the less we can believe that there is any use in begging for tenderness A cruel man might be bribed - might grow tired of his vile sport - might have a temporary fit of mercy, as alcoholics have fits of sobriety. But suppose that what you are up against is a surgeon whose intentions are wholly good. The kinder and more conscientious he is, the more inexorably he will go on cutting. If he yielded to your entreaties, if he stopped before the operation was complete, all the pain up to that point would have been useless…

What do people mean when they say ‘I am not afraid of God because He is good?’ Have they never been to a dentist?

~ A Grief Observed
CS Lewis

Observations

There's nothing like bad cough to make you appreciate
sleeping through the night.

There's nothing like camping in 20-something degree weather to make you appreciate a warm, soft bed (indoors!!).

There's nothing like a year of drought to make you appreciate
a rainstorm.

There's nothing like a few days of rain
to make you appreciate
the sun and blue sky.

There's nothing like being sick for a few weeks to make you appreciate feeling healthy.

There's nothing like teaching hammered dulcimer
to make you appreciate
a regular weekly paycheck!

There's nothing like fast food to make you appreciate a home cooked meal.

There's nothing like walking through the valley
to make you appreciate
the moments on the mountain top.