running

I am a runner.  I love being able to say that.  I love it because for so long I had such great admiration for runners, but looked on enviously from afar.  You know those runners - charging effortlessly down the road, looking relaxed and energised, like what they are doing is as simple & natural as breathing?  And the endurance runners – those crazy ultramarathon runners who do epic runs across intensely hot deserts, or over treacherous mountains for days on end & upon reaching the finish line already have their sights on the next big adventure?  Something about that appeals to me.  I have to admit, at present I’m not even close.  I’ve been running for almost a year & only just completed my first 10 k a few weeks back.  And truth be told, as much as I’m desperate to get back out there,  I’ve barely managed more than a brisk walk since.  Gammy knees.  Enough said.  But I AM a runner.  And I will get back out there soon.

In regards to our journey of faith, Hebrews 12 vs 1 talks about running with perseverance ‘the race marked out for us’.     

  

A few years ago, I really felt like I had reached a point in my faith where I wasn’t running toward anything, I wasn’t even walking.  I was at a standstill.  Nothing was happening.  I wasn’t growing or developing.  When I spent some time reflecting on it, I knew that if I wanted to grow in my relationship with God,  I needed to trust Him more. Let Him in a little bit closer.  And that freaked me out.  I wasn’t running towards God.  If anything I was running from Him.  Around that time, I wrote this.

 

I am running from you.

I used to stand & fight.
Ready & watching because of the rage
But underneath the fury was fear
And now there is just quiet
People think the swift run towards a goal
But a new pace is found
when there are things you’re running from
And I know if I wait a while
in this silence, you’ll speak
I know you’ll ask me to know you;
might ask me to trust
For now I’m going to run
singing loudly, fingers in ears.
For now I’m going to run with the quiet & my fear.

 

Whenever my husband is in conversation with someone, & it emerges that they are a runner he always asks (cheekily), ‘So, what are you running from?’ 

 

What was I running from?

Intimacy.  That word  . . .  I used to find it so awkward & uncomfortable - actually it repulsed me.  Intimacy.   When I think about what that word means in the ideal sense – it is a closeness with a person that is genuine and shared.  A mutual trust and surrender.  It cannot be forcefully given or taken.  That’s my understanding of it, anyway.  It should be this beautiful thing.  But in my mind it wasn’t.  Once, I couldn’t hear that word without negative connotations springing to mind.   The whole idea of surrendering myself to someone else did not sit comfortably with me.  I had my reasons.  But that didn’t help my predicament. 

 

I really wanted to grow, to be more mature in my faith – to know God on a deeper level.  But I knew that if I wanted to do that, then I also needed to learn to trust Him more.  & that was my problem.  For years I battled – wanting our relationship to grow, not wanting to totally let go or surrender.  At one point I may have recklessly stated, ‘Just do what it takes,’ & then instantly regretted that fleeting moment of insanity.  I sat stubbornly in that place for a long time. 

 

Sometimes when my small, wild baby is having a tantrum, she kicks and writhes, and holds herself stiff, then throws herself back.  She is in crazy fighting, attack mode.  She will not allow me near.  Finally, exhausted, she relents & in that moment of surrender, she allows herself to be swept up in my arms & drawn close as I comfort her.  I wanted that too.  I knew it must be good.  But I just couldn’t let down my defences.

 

We all respond to painful experiences differently.  Keeping myself ‘safe’ was my priority.  And keeping myself safe meant keeping everyone at a comfortable distance, including God.  That actually works, in a dysfunctional kind of way,  IF you can maintain control & if you’re happy with superficial, shallow relationships.  The ‘problem’ is that we are made for intimacy with God.  Right back at the start of the Story, the Bible talks about how God walked in the garden where Adam & Eve lived.  That’s not a God who is distant & removed. When He made us, He made us for relationship with Him, & He wanted us to want to know Him too. 

 

I longed for a closer relationship with God, & in my head I knew He wanted more of me, to KNOW me.  But in my heart, I didn’t really believe that.  I felt like I was just a number to Him.   At the risk of sounding irreverent;  that He just wanted another adoring fan. & I didn’t trust Him.  I longed for Him, but it was too overwhelming. . . I was ok though.  I had my kids & my husband.  They brought meaning to my life that I’d never known before.  As long as I didn’t think about it too much, I was ok. 

I remember attending a wedding.  The couple made their vows.  They spoke of ‘completing one another’.  Last year, a friend shared about how she could not function without her husband, her life would be over if anything ever happened to him.  I see people who put their whole lives into their kids.  We need to find some meaning.  We long to be loved and known intimately.  We are looking in the wrong place.  People will always let us down.  They can never always be our everything.  Sooner or later we find that out.  And then what? 

 

Last year I was faced with losing someone close to me, someone I ‘needed’.  It brought me to a crisis point.  What was life without this person?  It forced me to re-evaluate my intimacy with God.  Forced me to confront that uncomfortable concept.   Could He be everything to me?  All I needed?  Could I allow myself to be ‘known’ by Him?  What was the alternative? It forced me to evaluate why I was holding back, what I was fearful of.  I had to do some digging to get beneath those layers of what I was supposed to believe as a good Christian, to find out what I truly believed as Meg.  

 

Like most people, important human relationships had shaped how I saw God & myself in relation to Him.  I was His child in the sense that I was one of many children, I was just a number, insignificant, ‘unspecial’ and unseen.  It took a special lady’s gentle guidance & a terrifying toddler step of faith to accept that ‘You . . . have loved them even as You love Me’ (John 17 vs 23b).  The idea that God loves me as He loves His Son.  A Son who was His beloved, with Whom He was ‘well pleased’.  Valued, unique, special, and SEEN.  And known.  Outrageous!  Preposterous!!  True.

Many years ago, a wonderful & wise man told me that I needed to experience a ‘paradigm shift’.  At the time, I couldn’t even remotely grasp what he meant (it would have been helpful to know what those words meant!)  When I took that terrifying toddler step, I experienced that ‘paradigm shift’ & it blew me away.  It has brought a freedom that I could never have hoped to have experienced.  It is an ongoing process.  I gabble away to God every day, yet sometimes when I think of Who I am talking to, it is almost unbearable, I am overcome with awe & fear.  I withdraw, unable to continue. 

It’s a process, this letting go & surrendering.  I’m running the race.  Sometimes not very quickly.  Sometimes I’m just kinda jogging on the spot.  But I AM a runner and I’m running to Him. 

 

a break up letter

Dear Facebook, 

I'm breaking up with you. . . Well kind of. It's not that I don't like you. Actually, I really do.  Well, I did . . . In the beginning.  ACTUALLY, if I'm being completely honest in the beginning it was just plain awkward.  There, I said it.  But it was. I mean,  I only hooked up with you in the first place because some friends told me about you, how great you were, sooo much cooler than MySpace & they were from the States & so they HAD to be right, didn't they?

And I have to say, at first it was kinda weird & slightly uncomfortable because apparently not many people here in NZ knew about you, well none of my friends anyway.  It took a while for people to get used to you, I guess.  But a couple of months in & BAM, suddenly I had friend requests coming in thick & fast.  I accepted close friends,  I reconnected with old friends . . . & connected with friends I barely knew, & some I may or may not say 'hi' to when passing in the street, & some who I definitely did not know & most definitely would not say 'hi' to when passing in the street.  It was great.  All these friends.  Aah, they were good times. 

I loved to visit with you & find a new message on my wall from a friend or family member.  I felt so loved. The opportunity to upload photos & let friends & family see what was happening in my life was just wonderful.  I was a little unsure of the whole 'status update' thing at first.  What could I say, to the whole wide world that was so important anyway?  But it didn't take too long to get the hang of it & judging by the updates from friends, we were all catching on pretty quickly.  It was great scrolling through friends' photos - seeing how they'd changed over the years, the adventures they'd been on, the partners they'd chosen, the children they'd produced.  I don't know why, but it took me a while to get the hang of 'liking' updates or photos. But I must admit, it was wonderful to experience the convenience of simply clicking a button to show my appreciation or approval, rather than having to think up a meaningful comment to communicate the same.  'Selfies' were a revelation & I have to admit, one I grew weary with rather quickly.  I'm not trying to criticise, it's just . . . Well, enough said on that topic. 

Look, don't get me wrong, it was mostly wonderful.  Really. I truly loved being connected to others in the way you allowed, during a time in my life when I was physically disconnected because of distance & the general business of life as a young mama.  It's just that somewhere along the line it all changed.  I'm sorry to say, things kinda soured for me.  I didn't realise at the time but I can pretty much tell you the exact day it all went downhill for me - the day my third baby was born & I took my husband's old phone in my hot little hand for my very own & suddenly I had access to you ALL. THE. TIME.  At a stage in my life where I was alone for more reasons than I care to explain, it was a comfort to know you were there just a click away & I could lose myself in you. 

When I was with you, sometimes it was like no one else was around.  It was just me & you (& the other 1 billion + users).  & at the time i needed that comfort.  Sure,  sometimes I was meant to be using my time in other ways,  & yeah, there were times when we were together that I could have been connecting with those around me & I chose you. It's just that you were so. darn. convenient. And easy. & you took me to another place.  I could switch off when I was with you. I didn't have to think.  & that was SO great. 

And then it wasn't.  I wish I was one of those people who could take or leave you.  I'm sorry, I know that sounds harsh.  But you know what I mean, right?  The ones who hang with you for a bit or check in here & there.  But me, with my OCD tendencies & you, & your alluring nature, well, it was all or nothing.  Ok, it was all.  This is the hard part Facebook,  because  I really do like you.  You're great.  No really, it's not you, it's me.  And I'm sorry, but I just can't do this anymore.  It's not goodbye, I promise.  Just . . . from now on, let's leave it at a working relationship, shall we?  Please don't think of me as using you . . . More, just utilizing your strengths.  Ok?

Kind regards,

Me.

an unwanted visitor

Recently I had an unwanted visitor show up. You may know her, Depression's neurotic cousin?  One minute I was merrily going about my business, the next - there she was in all her full glory, & bringing with her an instantly recognisable tight ball of worry in my stomach & a sense of dread & impending doom. 

Oh, how I hate her.  Loud & obnoxious, she has no social graces.  Where Depression settles in quietly, like an old familiar friend, even comforting at first (deceptively so), she is desperate to make her presence known like an overbearing, opinionated relative, all 'Look at me!  Look at me!!'  And while Depression sits lethargic & unfeeling,  she is a constant state of restlessness and agitation - all OCD and ADHD & some Tourette's thrown in for good measure.  & I'm not talking about the mildly inconvenient fluttering of the eyelids or the slightly distracting twitch of the nose.  No, I'm talking about full-blown 'copropraxia' and 'coprolalia' which render their victim helpless against obscene gestures & a torrent of offensive language. And the incessant chatter!! 'Are you really going to eat that?  Salmonella poisoning!! You'll wish you were dead!', 'you're taking the kids for a swim in the SEA? They don't even know how to swim, they could end up drowning!!'  The unsubtle stage whispers, 'that rash - hello?  Meningitis?' & 'everything's going a little TOO well if you ask me.'

Like the irritating relative, she is notoriously hard to get rid of.  Worse,  you actually find yourself being caught up in the wild perplexity, the sense of foreboding, the apprehension, anguish & distress.  And there's NOTHING YOU CAN DO!!!!! . . .

Actually there is something you can do.  Well some THINGS I have learned to do.  Now I'm no expert,  well, I kind of am,  having spent a significant amount of time with her in the past, but I've learned a few ways to distance myself from that impetuous, headstrong witch. 
Distraction.  When she's screaming in your ear about all the perils of swimming in the ocean, or keeps nagging about how the meat in that chicken pie tasted more like fish & 'the food poisoning is going to hit any moment now', you need to find something to distract you & her.  The last time she showed up, I was on holiday.  It was amazing how going for a walk in unfamiliar surroundings or forcing myself to play in the ocean (the ocean!!) with my kids brought a wonderful sense of calm & stillness inside.
Talk to someone.  If you are really successful at pretending you have all your proverbial 'shit together' then this may be an incredibly hard step to take.  I wouldn't know, I've never even been able to pretend that I have my act together so talking to a trusted friend isn't as hard as I once thought it might be.  Take a risk,  they might surprise you with empathy & the offer of prayer.
And finally, talk back.  My mum taught me this one when I was 14.  Counter the thinly veiled lies with the plain, solid truth.  Any time you feel the familiar twinges & niggles, use your sternest teacher voice & repeat after me,

2 Timothy 1:7 - 'For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.'

1 John 4 v 18a - 'There is no fear in love.  But perfect love drives out fear . . . '

Isaiah 26:3 - 'You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in you.'

Philippians 4:6-7 - 'Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.'

There is power in those words that will silence THE loudest, THE most obnoxious. I promise.