An extra 60 pounds lagging behind

My puppy, Zoe, is now 9 months old.  I figure if I want her to become a good running buddy, it’s now or never in terms of training her to learn how to run by my side.  For three days in a row, Zoe accompanied me on my runs.  

I set out with my new running gear, put Zoe on the leash that ties conveniently around my waist, and set out for what I thought to be a crazy run.  I imagined Zoe pulling me down the road, tripping me, and running at least 5 miles per hour faster than I wanted to run.  However, this was not the case.  For the first mile and a half, she ran right by my side.  In fact, I kept looking down to make sure the leash was still intact because I couldn’t even feel her there.  But this is not where the run ends.  After those first few minutes of running glory, things took a turn for the worse.  Zoe was done running.  I called for her to “heel,” I took the leash in my hands and pulled her close to me, I cheered her on, I whistled, I even resorted to asking her to please run.  But all my efforts were in vain.  Each run resulted in this unfortunate act of me dragging Zoe for at least the last half of the run. 

I got some strange looks as I ran leaned forward, pulling this seemingly “energetic” puppy down the road.  I am sure these onlookers had the same assumptions I did: the dog should be pulling the runner.   

As I pulled Zoe through the neighborhoods, 2 Corinthians 6:14 came to mind, “Do not be yoked together with unbelievers.  For what do righteousness and wickedness have in common?  Or what fellowship can light have with darkness?”  Originally, I thought this verse was referring to the relationships believers have with unbelievers that pull them down paths they don’t want to go down.  (Very similar to the image I had of how my run with Zoe would go- her pulling me stressfully down the street as I ran exhausted behind her.)  This may be a part of the verse, but it does not encompass the entire meaning of the verse.  Being yoked with unbelievers may not pull us down paths we want to avoid, but it can pull us back from where we are headed.  (Like what actually happened on my run with Zoe.)

It’s easy to brush off relationships with unbelievers as “harmless.”  But beware that even though you may not follow them down the path of life choices they have made, they can easily pull you back and make your walk with Christ burdened. 

Today I ran without Zoe.  I guess you could say I was burden free.  I was amazed how much easier running was without having an extra 60 pounds lagging behind me, inhibiting my capabilities to run. 

Are you in a relationship that inhibits you? 

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles.  And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.” (Hebrews 12:1)

Carefully examine your relationships.  Who are those people most closely attached to you?  Who have you chosen to put on a leash around your waist?  Are they pulling you back?  Are they making the race set out for you difficult?  We are told to cast off what entangles and hinders us.  If your “inner circle,” or those people who you confide in are what hinders you, I challenge you to think about how the race might be if you ran with suitable partners.   

Reading Colossians drinking a grande nonfat caramel mocha.

I run on treadmills.  They are great for knowing exact distances, pacing, and for the comfort of consistent elements.  I never worry about the weather when I am headed to run a few miles on the treadmill.  I never have to guesstimate mileage.  I simply put on running shoes, walk up to the gym, and run mindlessly for half an hour. 

There is nothing wrong with a treadmill run.  And it’s perfect for those busy days where anything longer than 30 minutes is impossible to fit into the schedule of “to-dos.” 

Recently I have been running outside.  We go to a nearby park with running trails that circle tennis courts, a football field, baseball fields, a playground, and a couple sketchy looking bathrooms.  There are big, beautiful trees, squirrels everywhere, people to watch, and trails that are padded with the most wonderful bark-like material that make my knees smile.  I have never enjoyed running so much. 

Time and miles seem to fly by; I sweat much less than I do while running in the balcony of a too-small, too-hot, sweaty, college gym; I get fresh air; I feel like I actually ran SOMEWHERE; and I get to have uplifting conversations with my good running buddies.  I actually get to put to use all the miles I’ve put in up in that smelly gym with less than pleasant scenery. 

There is a certain “realness” that comes with running outdoors.  There is something about these runs that is on a totally different level than any treadmill run I’ve ever been on. 

I still run on treadmills and they are great for practicing pacing, form, interval, and inclines to a preciseness possibly unattainable while running around a park.  But there is still no comparison to the tree-filled freshness of an outside run.

I read my Bible and find enjoyment, encouragement, and conviction.  I love when God brings me to the passage I needed most on a challenging day.  I love when a pastor gives a message that speaks directly to my heart.  But if I choose to read my Bible in the morning, or listen to a sermon and just store it away in my mental cabinet of “good things to remember,” I never get the “realness” of living the life we are called to as sons and daughters of Christ.

We are called to live lives driven by our faith.  It needs to be a real and constant force that compels our actions, thoughts, and motivations.  In essence, our lives should be like a trail run.  Soak in the goodness of all God has created and put in your life, put into use all that you have learned about God, and be real.  Our Christian walk is supposed to bring us joy (however, we all know we run into times of trial); joy is found in living out the life we are created to live.  Don’t let your walk with Christ be stifled to the 20 minutes it takes you to read through Colossians as you drink your grande nonfat caramel mocha in the morning. 

"Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock." Matthew 7:24

Like treadmill running, those times in the Word are great.  They help train us up as Christians in this world, and bring us closer to God.  But now it’s time to take all that training out into the real world.  Live out your faith.  Let Christ be present in your daily living.  There is no way running in the park would’ve been possible (much less enjoyable) for me if I was out of shape; Christian living would not be possible without creating a firm foundation in my relationship with Christ.

Treadmill runs and park runs go hand in hand for me.  One has helped bring me to the point where I can pace myself, run consistent mileage, and be confident that yes-I can run.  The other has helped me find true enjoyment and fulfillment in my training.  Find fulfillment in your faith- live it out. 

Check under the soil.

I recently had a conversation with my manager (Donna) from when I worked at a garden nursery.  Seeing as though we are both garden lovers, we got on the topic of plants.  There was something she said that stuck with me:

“When you plant a seed, you will see an initial sprout.  Then there is a period of time when you cannot see anything happening.  But what you are not seeing is that the seed is growing roots to support the plant it is growing.  This is a crucial part of the plant’s growth, but is often thought of as a time without growth simply because we cannot see it.”

I go to Corban University, a Christian college where it is expected to see personal growth, development, and a deepening relationship with God.  I become greatly discouraged when I am not growing, when I feel far from God, or when I don’t feel the presence of God in my life.  I was thinking about how I have felt this way throughout my education here at Corban, and this conversation I had with Donna came to mind. 

Who says I am not growing?  Just because I don’t feel like I am growing or because I can’t see growth, does that mean I am not growing?  I think these assumptions are wrong.  This time I have here at Corban is providing me with time for roots to grow.  At no other time of my life will I have professors who can teach me those things I have always wished I knew about my faith.  At no other time will I live in a dorm with 115 other woman of God.  At no other time will I be encouraged on a daily basis to make my faith my own.  At no other time will I have the opportunity to attend chapel three times a week, where I can learn more about God with my fellow student body.  At no other time will I be surrounded by an entire community that loves and lives for God.

I am growing.

"Let your roots grow down into him and draw up nourishment from him, so you will grow in faith, strong and vigorous in the truth you were taught."  (Colossians 2:7)

I may not feel any different.  But just like the seed that is growing roots to support the plant to come, my faith needs roots to support a life to be lived for the glory of God. 

Do not grow discouraged when you don’t see growth in your life.  Maybe you are growing roots.  Without roots, we will be unable to support our faith when things get difficult.

Growth is not always obvious.  Don’t discredit this time in your life as a time void of growth.  Check under the soil.  

There's no crying in football!

There are some things in life that are ridiculous.  The price of cereal, the verification necessary to get a library card, the calories in triple chocolate fudge cake, and maybe even people who cry watching football. 

Today marks the third home husky football game that I have had to miss in the past 12 years.  As I sat in my dorm room, watching the game stream through my computer, listening to the fans cheer, getting text messages from my parents who were at the game, I began to cry.  I’m not sure if I have ever felt so ridiculous in my life.  Who cries over football?!  Apparently I do. 

All of a sudden I remembered being 5 years old, on my dad’s shoulders, walking through a stadium filled with excitement and purple.  I remembered how it feels when the crowd goes crazy when the Huskies hold the opponents on 4th and short.  I remembered walking through campus with my dad, talking pregame strategy.  I remembered waking up early on Sunday mornings to read all the articles about the previous days’ victory.  I remembered six-hour car rides from our house in Corvallis to the games in Seattle. 

I remembered spending time with my dad.  I remembered bonding with my dad. 

The reason I cried was because I knew what I was missing.  I was missing that time with my dad that I have grown to love.  I hated knowing my dad was there in our seats and I was hours away. 

Like the time I spend with my dad in Husky Stadium, my time with God helps me bond with my other Father.   God waits for us everyday.  He longs for us to meet him.  But I have never cried over the times I have neglected to spend time with God.  I never thought about what I was missing.  I never thought of my Father waiting for me. 

Today I realized that I took each one of those football games for granted.  How blessed am I to have the opportunity to go to each of those games?  How blessed am I that those games and the car rides to them have equated to hours upon hours of time spent with my dad? 

I take time with God for granted.  He is always there to meet with me, but I seem to find every excuse not to meet with him.  I’ll drive four hours from Salem to see a football game, but I can’t seem to find the time in a day to meet with my Father.  The thought of my selfishness makes me cry.   

He is waiting. 

“Evening, morning, and noon I cry out in distress, and he hears my voice” (Psalm 55:17).

When the power chair doesn't move, move on.

I don’t think I can count the number of times kids have walked into the grocery store, caught a glimpse of the power chairs waiting directly inside the doors, grinned from ear to ear, and then jumped on for a joy ride. Unfortunately, the power chairs provide little entertainment because in order to operate, there needs to be certain amount of weight present on the chair. Most kids don’t fulfill this weight requirement. The reason for this? Apparently the power chair manufactures did not think children could properly operate said power chairs. I have to believe their assumptions are correct. For the sake of our displays of breakable bottles of organic apple juice, it would be better if juveniles were not taking joy rides on motorized machinery around our less than spacious store premises.

Sometimes I see a power chair, get excited, and hop on for a joy ride. In other words, I see a possibility or have an idea that I want to pursue. But God has different plans, He’s put a minimum weight on the “power chair” that I don’t quite meet. He knows I cannot properly operate certain power chairs and prevents me from taking joy rides that would have a negative impact on my or others’ lives.

Just as the excited kids leave the unmoved power chair disappointed, I walk away from an unfulfilled possibility with aggravation, cynicism, or even anger. We are so nearsighted that we fail to see why the power chair doesn’t move. In reality, we will never know what would have happened if the power chair moved. Maybe the apple cider display would have come crashing down, maybe some little old lady would have been run over, maybe the pyramid of apples would have rolled themselves all over the produce department. But do we really need to know the “what if?” Sometimes it’s just good enough to know that God knows best.

The child in us doesn’t care in that moment about the potential disasters that could follow our joy ride. When failed opportunities pass by, we rarely consider the idea that maybe it was in our best interest.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” (Jeremiah 29:11).

There is nothing in our lives that is not part of the Lord’s will. He knows what is best for us and which power chairs we cannot handle.

Rather than throwing a fit, skulking around, and missing out on other potential opportunities, it’s best to move on with the knowledge that God knows best. Not all the power chairs we encounter will bring us joy, but the fact that God cares enough to look out for our best interest is enough to keep me going.

When the power chair doesn’t move, move on.

Find your running shoes and keep running

I would not call myself a “camper.”  I am more of the “sleep-in-my-own-bed” and “take-a-shower-everyday” type person.  However, I am currently training to be a Resident Assistant at my University, which included a camping trip for the past couple of days.  Part of this camping experience included participating in competitive games (which is also not generally part of my “type”).  One such game was entitled “pot-o-points”.  In this game, our teams had to find one of the Resident Directors who had the “pot o points,” take a coin fro the pot, and bring it back to their team’s box.  This sounds simple until you add in the fact that it was in the dark, in a wooded campsite no one was familiar with, and had other Resident Directors scattered around the grounds waiting to “capture” you. 

Before we headed out on our “pot-o-points” mission, we were all asked to grab an item out of a pile.  There were bags of food, crazy hats, reflective gear, tarps, oversized glassed, twine, scuba gear, and other random items.  After we had each grabbed an item, we were then told what benefit that item would bring. 

The tarps acted as invisible capes when a person or object was completely covered by it, the glasses allowed the player to see into the “pot-o-points” to pick out the best coins, flashlights could only be used by those wearing the hats.  I happened to pick up the reflective gear, which granted me immunity to the “capturers” so long as I was running. 

Our special items allowed each member of the team to bring a special advantage to the whole.  When used properly, the items were beneficial.  When used incorrectly or not at all, they were worthless.  I made the choice that I would run the entire duration of the game so I could get the greatest possible advantage out of my special item. 

When God gives us spiritual gifts, he intends for us to use them.  When we fail to recognize what our gifts are and how they can be used to support the body of Christ, we hurt the body of Christ. 

Imagine if I didn’t run.  I would be captured, have my coins taken away, and be a useless member of my team.  Or what if the person with the glasses chose not to use their “gift” of being able to look into the pot and just chose a coin without caring?  By not using their special skills, they would hurt the entire team. 

If I was sent out to run around a track or on a treadmill for two hours, I probably couldn’t do it.  I would get tired, think about how I’d rather not be running for that long, and stop.  But in the midst of the game, I knew I had to keep running.  There was one point in the game where my red converse shoes just weren’t cutting it for the duration of this run.  But that didn’t stop me- I ran to my tent, laced up my running shoes, and got right back in the game. 

What if we went through life with that same mentality?  That using our gifts wasn’t an option, but a necessary part of life?  How much better would the body of Christ function if we all used our gifts to better the body as a whole?  Sometimes using you gifts will get tiring, push you out of your comfort zone, or be more work that you expected.  These are the times when you have to go find your running shoes and keep running. 

We are given our gifts for a reason.  God has given us all different gifts and strengths so we can help others in their weaknesses. 

“Just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ we who are many form one body, and each member belongs to all the others. We have different gifts, according to the grace given us” (Romans 12:4-6). 

Unlike the pile of random “gifts” we chose from in this game, God has specifically given you a gift suited to fit you.  By using our gifts we help build up the body of Christ and we glorify God in fulfilling the role he has given us. 

After all was said and done, I was sweaty, tired, and had blisters on my feet from running in my red converse all-stars.  But I had no regrets.   Yes, I got lost several times and didn’t find the “pot-o-points” until nearly the end of the game, but I did all I could to help my team.  I used my gift to the best of my ability and never stopped running.  God doesn’t expect that all of us will do extravagant things with our gifts.  I probably won’t solve world hunger, or provide beds for every child in Africa.  But so long as I keep running and use my gift to the best of my ability I will glorify God and leave this world with no regrets.  

The hypocrisy of your car decor

I am not a fan of tailgaters. I’m not talking about the gung-ho football goers who make the parking lot smell of barbecue and fattening goodness, no I like those kind of tailgaters. The kind I am talking about are those people who feel they must drive so close to the back of your car that you spend the rest of the time they are behind you, looking in your rearview mirror. It’s almost like we think watching them in our mirrors will miraculously make them stop following so closely or somehow keep us from being rear-ended.

Unfortunately, I had a tailgater following me as I was making the drive to Salem to move back to school. I was in a particularly peaceful state of mind: listening to newly purchased music from itunes, had the breeze blowing in my hair, and was ecstatic to be headed back down south. However, this peaceful state of mind came to a screeching halt as my attention turned to concern for the rear end of my vehicle which contained my meticulously packed belongings.

This crazy lady followed me all the way to the freeway. Once we were on the freeway, I stayed in the right lane hoping she would zoom by me in the fast lane, relieving me of unneeded anxiety. She did exactly as I thought: cut over into the left lane, sped by me, and then jumped right back in front of me. What I saw on the back of her car made me laugh. She had a bumper sticker that read “WAGE PEACE.” Oh, really?

What good is it if we say things, claim to believe things, or even permanently attach bumper stickers to the backs of our cars if we don’t live them out? It is easy to say words. In fact, we often use too many words and don’t mean what we say.

We accept Christ into our hearts by proclaiming He is Lord, that we are sinners, and that we need His salvation. This is a huge claim we make. We say He is Lord, but do we mean it? Or do we mean it like that lady with the “WAGE PEACE” bumper sticker meant her claim to peace? Do we say one thing and live out another?

“Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess” (Hebrews 10:23). So what does it mean to “hold unswerving?” I think the answer is found in Luke 14:27, “And anyone who does not carry his cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.” Our claim to know Him as our Savior needs to be a daily choice to carry our cross. It is not a one-time application of a tacky bumper sticker. I’m not saying your can’t proclaim your faith on the rear of your motor vehicle, but I would advise you live out that proclamation or face being laughed at by fellow drivers who see the hypocrisy of your car décor.

But beyond our Christian bumper stickers and various other paraphernalia, we are automatically labeled as “Christian,” “Jesus freak,” “youth-group-groupie,” “Bible girl,” or however else the society around us perceives us. Regardless of their word choice, they are aware of our beliefs and we have the choice of living them out, or letting them be only words. You can’t wage peace by driving like a maniac, and you can’t claim Jesus as Lord by living a life of sin.

On your knees, with Crayola scissors in your hands.

We all love to “work the system.” We love when we find a loophole or some alternate route to go about getting what we want. Even at the ripe age of four, I learned to work the system. It all began with the strong desire to cut my doll’s hair.

I asked my mother if I could cut my doll’s hair, to which she answered “no.”

Disappointed, I went back and pondered a new tactic. I asked if I could cut my sister’s hair. Again, she answered “no.”

By this time I had learned two things: I was not allowed to cut my doll’s or my sister’s hair, and when I asked, the answer was “no.” This meant I needed to find something to cut that was not belonging to my doll or my sister and I should avoid asking to avoid receiving yet another “no.”

My loophole: the Persian rug. I took my green, plastic, Crayola scissors and proceeded to give the tassels on the Persian rug a trim. Surprisingly, the plastic, kid-safe scissors did a serious hack job on the rug. Not surprisingly, Mom knew exactly who the culprit of this crime was. In fact, I can vividly remember the night she came into my room, woke me up, and inquired about the new appearance of our Persian rug. I denied all charges.

God tells me “no.” There are some things in this life that I want that are not in God’s will for me. So I try another route, and He says “no” again. Then I find some sort of Persian rug loophole. I find a way of doing what I want, avoid directly asking God about it, and end up with a nighttime confrontation.

“Therefore, my beloved, as you have always obeyed, so now, not only as in my presence but much more in my absence, work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure” (Philippians 2:12-13).

The truth is, even when we think God is not watching (like I thought my mom would never know I had cut the tassels), He is there and He knows. In order to “work out my salvation,” I have to live a life that aligns with God’s commandments and is in obedience to Him.

My mom was always proud when we acted in obedience to her; it showed her that we loved her enough to trust what she said was right and wrong. In the same way, we show God our love for Him when we obey him, “If you love me, you will obey what I command” (John 14:15).

So when temptation gets the best of you and you find yourself on your knees, with Crayola scissors in your hands, ready to trim the Persian rug… think twice. God already knows what you are doing. You cannot hide and will be forced to face the consequences.

We still have that Persian rug (the tassels are now taped underneath). It sits at the bottom of the stairs. I walk on it dozens of times every day. It is a constant reminder of my disobedience some 16 years ago. I am not proud of it (however it does make for a good laugh in the Hammack house), but it helped me learn I cannot hide from my mother. Is there something you disobeyed God on? Has it left a scar or a constant reminder for you? Rather than continually making mistakes, put your Persian rug at the bottom of your stairs to remind you each and every day. We all make mistakes, but we are expected to learn from them. Maybe that’s why my parents never got rid of that rug.

Order up a sea bass

My sister just returned from a trip to Greece. (And no, I’m not jealous AT ALL.) As she was filling us in on the details of her adventures in the land of clear blue water and snow-white walls, she told a story about a special dinner they had at a more expensive venue. [Let me give a little background information here: my mom, my sister, and myself do not eat seafood.] However, Sherry was determined to eat at least one meal consisting of seafood while she was in Greece, famous for fresh fish. It was during this expensive dinner when Sherry decided it was the time to dive in and order fish. Using her best reasoning, she went for the day’s special of broiled sea bass because of course, the special of the day should be the freshest, least fishy tasting thing on the menu.

Upon the meal arriving at their table, Sherry found herself looking eye to eye with a sea bass. They did not bother to fillet it, take off the skin, or even cut off the head and tail. It was simply a fully intact sea bass with a few lemons covering the belly. As Sherry is telling me this story, I immediately assume she did not eat the fish. No lady in the Hammack household eats fish if at all possible, much less if it still has an eyeball. Sherry decided she was going to eat fish while she was in Greece, had ordered fish at this special restaurant, and was not about to fall short of her determination.

She peeled back the skin, covered the eye with a lemon, and ate the fish. Her description of the fishy entrée? “It was SO GOOD!”

I don’t think I could have done what Sherry did. First of all, I probably wouldn’t have wanted to order fish at any point during a trip to Greece, I wouldn’t have ordered it at the most expensive restaurant (because I know I would throw it all away), and if a waiter brought a full-on fish to my table I would have it removed immediately. Sherry would never have tasted the delicious sea bass if she wasn’t brave enough to try.

I love to ask God for a challenge; I want Him to use me for His will. I order up a sea bass, if you will. Deciding I will order a fishy entrée is difficult to start with, actually ordering it is even harder, and eating the disturbing and unappetizing fish that arrives on my table is nearly impossible.

Deciding to let God use me is difficult, prayerfully asking Him to use me is even harder, and taking on the challenge when He brings it to my doorstep is a pivotal moment. I have the choice to take it on, or pass it by.

Even though the challenge may appear more than your can handle, passing it by may leave you missing out on something “SO GOOD.”

“Therefore do not throw away your confidence, which has a great reward. For you have need of endurance, so that you may do the will of God and receive what is promised” (Hebrews 10:35-36).

Sherry went to Greece with confidence that they would indeed have good fish, believed it enough to order the sea bass, and endured to eat it. And she received what was promised: the fish was good and fresh.

I have to approach life like Sherry approached sea bass.

“But we are not of those who shrink back and are destroyed, but of those who believe and are saved” (Hebrews 10:39). No turning back.

4544 means baby bok choy

I look at things differently than the average person. Or I guess I should say I look at produce items differently than the average person. I don’t see spaghetti squash, I see 4776. I don’t see asparagus, I see 4080. I don’t see nectarines, I see 4378. I don’t see white onions, I see 4663. My life has been turned into a game of numbers. I cannot go a meal without running the numbers through my head (tonight I had 4076, 3151, 3121 and 4163… to you, that means I ate a salad). I cannot watch tv without saying all the numbers as they illuminate my screen. Basically, when I see produce, I think about the codes. Or if I happen to see a number that signifies a code (house numbers, phone numbers, etc), I think about the vegetable it means in my produce-laden world. It is something I cannot help, it just happens.

The reason I think in produce codes is because it is how I spend my days. 8 hours a day, 5 days a week. If I am not putting produce out onto the shelves all day, I am ringing it through the check stand. After spending a good 40 hours each week with these codes, they become a part of me. For the three months of the year I spend in the grocery store, the codes and I are one. Upon arriving back at school and leaving my glamorous grocery life behind, the codes slowly begin to fade away. I probably won’t remember that 4544 means baby bok choy come next February. It is doubtful that I will know 4629 means leeks in the panic of finals week.

The bottom line: when I am no longer spending everyday with these codes and have distractions on every side, I quickly forget.

When I am faithful about spending time with God and taking time to get to know Him, He becomes part of who I am (just like the codes are a part of who I am for the months of May, June, and July). But just like the codes that begin to vanish the moment I leave the grocery store, the relationship I have with Christ can just as easily fall away if I neglect spending time with Him. I cannot remember produce codes if I only work an hour each week. Likewise, I cannot build a relationship with Christ if I meet with him irregularly.

The great thing is, when I return to my grocery glory after spending 9 months away, the codes find their way back to the forefront of my mind within the first few days. After being afraid I would never recall the hundreds of PLU codes I spent last summer memorizing, I was shocked to find I remembered 4520 meant long stemmed artichoke on my first day back. When we fall away from Christ, we can rest assured that He will take us back. We don’t have to “start over” because He has been there with us all along. The codes never left my memory; Christ never leaves our hearts. He is always there waiting for us to pursue the relationship. Spend time with Him and he will be part of you.

Where's the pork?!

I spent this past Sunday making a ridiculous number of pulled pork sandwiches, each of which was accompanied by a side of coleslaw and Kansas City smoked beans. Just another day of being the “everywoman” at the grocery store. Our store decided to capitalize on a barbeque contest being held in our parking lot by selling pulled pork to the hungry barbeque goers.

Let’s just say things were chaotic at times. There were times we ran out of pork, lemonade, and beans. There were times when we felt we could have used an extra set of hands. There were times when felt like we didn’t have the answers we needed (like the answer to, “where’s the pork?!”).

After the last pulled pork sandwich had been served (which actually required us re-obtaining items from the truck we had already packed up), it was time for clean up. We broke down all the tables and chairs, packed up the U-Haul, made several trips back and forth from the store to the barbeque location, and picked up a seemingly endless amount of trash. There were times when it seemed like the tables were too heavy. There were times when the chairs seemed too numerous. There were times when the trash seemed too gross. There were times when the bins of post-BBQ ash seemed too heavy.

But what I remember most is the laughter. I think my favorite moment of the afternoon was when we were completely out of pork, beans, lemonade, “mojo” sauce, quarters, dimes and pennies. Aside from the fact that customers weren’t exactly peachy about our lack of food items, this was a bonding moment for me and my fellow pulled pork professionals. In these ten minutes of “down time,” we began to laugh. What else was there to do? We couldn’t change the circumstances, we couldn’t magically make pork appear in our chaffing dish, and we couldn’t make the customers refrain from groaning as they stood hungry in line.

We laughed and felt comfort in knowing we were not in this alone. Had I been standing there in front of this massive line by myself, there probably would not have been laughter. More likely, there would have been tears.

The same is true for life, we will run into chaos. Things are not always smooth sailing in the journey of life. I think we can all agree to this from experience. But we should never forget that we are given brothers and sisters in Christ to walk through life with. In fact, we are even called to share in each other’s burdens, “Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ” (Galatians 6:2).

We all find commonality in the things of life. We often are not equipped to fix each other’s problems, but we are equipped to walk through them together and laugh along the way. Whether it’s a difficult academic year, the loss of a family member, sickness, or even a crazy day at the barbeque, it’s always better together.

Pursuing fake fish on the bottom of the kiddy pool

Zoe has a new favorite activity: digging the water out of her bowl... she no longer gets water inside or is monitored when she does. Thinking she might be trying to communicate that she would like to learn how to swim, we purchased a kiddy pool for her. It’s the typical kiddy pool you’re imaging in your head: blue, plastic, about 4 feet in diameter, 18 inches high, and has colorful fish adorning the sides and bottom.

After a few doubtful walks around the pool, Zoe climbed in to test the waters. Does she love it? I’m not sure. She’s only concerned with one thing while “swimming” in her pool: getting those colorful fish. She goes round and round, digging, pawing, biting, and splashing. All in hopes of capturing those elusive sea creatures.

To Zoe, these fish are not merely colored plastic on the bottom of a kiddy pool, they are real. She does not understand the fish are not alive or that they are not toys for her to play with. She will never be able to grab them in her mouth but they remain the center of her attention.

Sometimes I am like Zoe in the kiddy pool, I chase after what I cannot have. I dig and scratch and bite and claw until I am choking on water. Something about my humanness fails to realize I cannot have these things. We all have fake fish in our lives. They are the dreams and goals and hopes we have that are not in God’s plan. They are the things of this world that seem so good, like fish on the bottom of the kiddy pool, but lack actual substance.

God has given us a “kiddy pool” (if you will) and he hopes that we will enjoy it, swim in it, take in the coolness of the water. But we end up pursuing fish painted on the bottom and completely miss out on His plans. We planned for Zoe to relax and enjoy the water. Instead she ends up hot, bothered, and choking on water.

“’For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the LORD, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’” (Jeremiah 29:11).

Plans that are better than circling the kiddy pool in pursuit of fake fish.

Don't fear the wet rack.

Part of my job as the produce lady includes replenishing the wet rack. You know: lettuce, broccoli, cabbage, carrots, cauliflower, and the like. To do this, I often wheel out the entire u-boat filled with wet rack items. This also means I am often in people’s way as they are trying to navigate the produce department. To compensate for the obstruction I am causing, I try to be aware of the people around me and let them know I can move if they need me to.

As I was replenishing the wet rack today, I noticed a young boy (I would guess to be 8 years old). The boy began at one end of the wet rack, looked high over his head to read the signs, studied the vegetables, and walked down to the other end of the rack while continuing his search. Then he walked over to the organics section. Then he walked back to the other side of the wet rack again. I think he went back and forth a total of three times, taking a good 5 or 6 minutes. I knew what was going on here. He had that “I’m on a mission” look on his face. I knew mom had sent him on a mission to find a particular produce item and he was determined to accomplish the mission.

Having felt this same panic before (my mother was always big on sending us out on important missions), I walked over to him and asked, “Can I help you find something?”

He was obviously happy someone came to help, “Yes!”

“So, what are you looking for?”

Although he was happy for the help, he was unable to identify what he was looking for. “Umm, well… it starts with… an ‘R’… then an ‘O’… then an ‘M’…”

“Oh! I bet you’re looking for romaine, right?”

I could see by the look of relief in his eyes that I had guessed right.

“That’s it! Where can I find it?”

I walked him over to the romaine (which he had passed a good three times already), handed him a head, and sent him on his way. Mission accomplished.

The boy was overwhelmed. Mom had sent him on a mission to find a kind of lettuce he couldn’t pronounce, he could only remember three of the letters, the wet rack was massive, the tags identifying the vegetables were too high, and he was afraid to ask for help.

We’re on a mission too. “Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit” (Matthew 28:19).

This task is overwhelming. We have been sent on the most important mission, we don’t always remember everything He has taught us, the world is massive, it has been marinated in sin, and we often feel we are going it alone.

Like the boy, we’re afraid to ask for help. Or maybe we just forget to ask for help. We must not overlook the verse following Matthew 28:19, “And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.”

This is not a mission we are called to take on alone. Not only do we have our brothers and sisters in Christ with us, but we also have the very one who sent us on the mission with us at all times.

Like the boy, once the mission is accomplished we will be rewarded. I am sure he had a mother at the end of his mission saying, “Well done!” At the end of our mission, our Father will say to us, “Well done, my good and faithful servant” (Matthew 25:21). Don’t fear the wet rack.

Not willing to settle for a dysfunctional drainage system

When we moved into our new house five years ago, it was brand new. I remember the first time I saw our new house. I fell in love. I shrieked in joy when we pulled up, ran a few laps around my new domain, and then laid in the living room for a good ten minutes to soak it all in. I was in the honeymoon stage with my new abode.

You know how you fall out of the honeymoon stage? When you begin noticing the faults of your spouse more than the reasons you fell in love with them? My house soon made its faults clear. Ever since we moved in, it seems like things have been falling apart. The toilet paper holders fall off about twice a month, the knob in my shower fell off, the stopper in my sink got stuck in the “up” position, the closet door wouldn’t open, and the strings to open my curtains fall off almost nightly. Not to mention we have had windows broken by both golf balls and ducks. Either we are extremely rough on our home, or it was not built with the finest wisdom. I’d like the think it was the latter.

I don’t mean to say we live in a bad house, because we don’t. It’s beautiful, it has lovely stonework outside, a big front door, floor to ceiling windows, a kitchen that has everything I could wish for, vaulted ceilings in my room, and it can handle one heck of a Christmas tree thanks to the tall ceilings in the living room. I love my house. My point is that someone missed some of the finer details of the house. Someone overlooked the little things.

Maybe it would have been better to choose a toilet paper holder that stays in place. Just a minor detail. Putting a heat detector right above our convection oven probably wasn’t the smartest idea. Just a minor detail. I would have liked to have a drain in my shower that doesn’t clog at the sight of one hair. Just a minor detail. Being able to open my blinds with ease would be preferable. Just a minor detail.

My life is good. I have a great family, I am blessed with the opportunity to go to an amazing university, I have wonderful friends at school, I have never been in want. I have an overwhelmingly blessed and abundant life. The creator of my life did a thorough job. The difference between God and the builders of my house is found in the minor details.

My creator cares about each and every little thing about my life. There is no minor, subtle, or petty detail of my life that evades God’s thought. Yes, he has given me all the big, noticeable, good things in my life, but He has created and designed my life to the deepest and most intimate level. He cares that my feelings were hurt by a nasty customer, he cares that I am nervous about an upcoming test, he cares that I am lonely. God is not willing to settle for a crappy toilet paper holder or a dysfunctional drainage system when it comes to our lives. It is good to know he pays attention to the minor details.

The curse of the work apron

I wear a uniform to work everyday: black slacks, black shoes, a special “Market” t-shirt (complete with advertisements on the back), and an apron. It seems the moment I put on this uniform it becomes socially acceptable for people to complain to me, yell at me, and make me feel unnecessarily bad about myself. Today was one of those days where I felt like the majority of customers believed I was the one making their shopping experience subpar. Of course it was my fault that the sign said the peaches were from Mexico when they were really from California. Of course it was my fault that you couldn’t read that the sign said “lemonade” not “pineapples,” making the price of the pineapple more than you thought. Of course it was my fault that the Walla Walla onions didn’t get shipped on time leaving The Market Walla Walla-less.

There is something about me wearing that apron that sends the message, “yell at me, make me feel guilty, treat me like I am not human, I don’t actually have feelings.” As much as this type of treatment hurts, I expect that customers are going to be angry when we don’t have the onions that were on sale. I anticipate customers complaining to me about the prices. I know that no matter what, I will have to take some blows even though I had nothing to do with the problem.

After one particular lady killed any sense of self-worth I felt today, I skulked to the back room, hung my head, and found things to do that would allow me to avoid customers for a few minutes. As I was feeling particularly sorry for myself, I began to realize there is someone who I falsely accuse, who I am disrespectful towards because he wears a “uniform,” if you will. It’s God. God has many roles, or “aprons.” He is Creator, He is Father, He is Healer, He is Redeemer, He is Savior. I know God is my savior and that regardless of what I do, there is no sin He cannot forgive. Does he expect me to sin? Unfortunately, yes. Does he like when I sin, does he accept it without feeling hurt by my sin? No.

Just because I know I am saved does not give me reason to go on living in sin. Just like I (try to) accept the hurtful words of customers and continue giving the “above and beyond” customer service expected of me, God never ceases to be a forgiving and loving God when we continually wrong him.

I have to believe customers don’t really think everything is my fault. They must know that I, a seasonal and minimum wage worker, makes absolutely zero decisions having to do with the store. Similarly, I know God is not to blame for my sins; I recognize my sins are my own downfalls. But the blame is put on him anyway. “God made him who had no sin be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God” (2 Corinthians 5:21). He already died for each and every sin I have and will commit. Regardless of the fact that he has already died for my sins, each sin hurts him. He does not like to see us fall victim to the temptations of this world.

If I am so affected by the abrasive words of customer I don’t even know, how much more is God affected by the slap-in-the-face sinful behavior of those he died to save? I don’t want to be the rude customer to God. I want to be like the customers who make my day; like the lady who was a little too thankful that I went to get her a flyer, like the man who told me I was the “nicest person ever,” like the lady who comes in with a smile and a laugh each and every day and calls me by name. I appreciate these customers, I look forward to them coming in the store, I want them to come through my line. I hope God smiles when he thinks about me, that when I come into his presence he knows I will be thankful, that I will realize just how great his sacrifice is, and that he loves to hear me call him by name. We can choose to be grumpy and ignorant or joyful and appreciative.

A hasty application of sunscreen

Summertime: popsicles, bike rides, boat trips, bonfires, lemonade stands, and… sun rash? For me, the long sunshiny days of summer mean sun rash. For the past 10+ years, I have developed an allergy to the sun which causes me break out in a sun rash after being exposed to the warming rays of summer. These little red dots adorning my arms and legs let me know I have been in the sun without wearing the oh-so-important sunscreen my fair skinned, red headed, freckled faced body needs.

I have recently been trying to run outside rather than on a treadmill inside to get my body used to running in the unpredictable elements of the outdoors. This also means I have been in the sun more than usual. Before going for one of these runs taking place under the sun, it is crucial I put on sunscreen if I don’t want to come home looking like I was just painted by seurat the dot. However, the first thing I do when I wake up is not put on sunscreen. I usually eat breakfast, have a cup of coffee, lounge with my mom, read the newspaper, make a lousy attempt at the New York Times Daily Crossword, and play tug of war with Zoe. All of a sudden I look at the clock, realize I have an hour and a half before I need to be off to work, run upstairs to throw on running clothes, and fly out the door. Sometimes I am lucky enough to remember a slathering of sunscreen between putting on the running clothes and flying out the door, but sadly, it is not often.

Even on the days I do remember a quick dose of sunscreen, I know it is not doing me much good. It has not had time to sink in. It is quickly taken away by the sweat running down my face, the sun beating on my arms, or the (frequent) Washington rain splashing on my legs. The sunscreen essentially served little or no purpose.

In order for us as Christians to hold our ground and avoid the beatings of the world around us, we have to let the words of the Bible sink in. We can’t assume that a quick skimming of the book of John will be enough for us to walk out the door and bring someone to Christ, we can’t expect that a lackadaisical glance at Colossians will keep us on the straight and narrow, we can’t believe that an occasional flipping through Revelation will make us into theological geniuses. We have to make an effort of diving into the Word, digging deeper, and giving it time to sink in. If we are in a hurry to read the Bible without approaching it with purpose and being intentional about gaining understanding, the first ray of sun, drop of rain, or stream of sweat will wipe it all away.

The world we live in is like the sun on my sensitive skin. If I step out into the sun unprepared or with a hasty application of sunscreen, I am in big trouble. If I step out into the world without having a firm foundation in the Word, I am in big trouble. Sunscreen takes time to sink in and to serve its purpose. Our study of the Word takes time. David writes, “I will meditate on they precepts, and I have respect unto thy ways. I will delight myself in they statues: I will not forget thy word” (Psalm 119:15-16). I do not want to forget the Word. I want to “delight in the law of the Lord, mediating on it day and night” (1:2).

Once we have meditated on the Word and let it sink it, we will be ready for any unpredictable elements coming our way. My time in the Word, my search to know God more, and my attempt to follow Christ will not be a hasty application of sunscreen. It will be an intentional lathering of sunscreen properly applied before sun exposure, keeping me safe and prepared.

Coke in my mascara

For those of you who don’t know, if your mascara gets clumpy, you can simply add some Coke into the tube and it will be back in mint condition. However, the word “simply” seems to evade the idea of actually getting the coke from the can into the small mascara tube. How exactly does one get the Coke in there? It seems to call for a sticky situation. Mascara tubes were just not made for pouring Coke into them.

In order to make the process more efficient, one would need a “mediator,” if you will, between the Coke can and the mascara tube: a funnel, or maybe an eyedropper. With the use of such a tool, the Coke is easily moved from the can into the tube. A process seemingly impossible is made possible.

Now imagine yourself as the mascara tube. Your life gets “gunky” and seems to have become less than perfect, less than what you are meant to be. We need something to smoothen us out again and remove the impurities. We are in need of something to bring us back to perfection. Or in other words, we need some Coke. Our Coke is God. But how do we go about getting this omniscient, omnipresent, sovereign, all-powerful God in us? Our sinful nature separates us from God and makes the task of getting Him in us impossible without some kind of assistance. We need a mediator between God and us.

So what is our funnel? What is our eyedropper? This is where Jesus comes in, our perfect mediator. He makes this seemingly impossible task of getting God in us, possible. Jesus tore the curtain separating us from God; he took away the restraints of the Coke can and the narrow mascara tube. He is the means of creating a personal relationship with God.

I don’t mean to reduce God to a sugary, less than satisfying beverage, or Jesus to an eternally misplaced kitchen gadget. But it is amazing to think that through Jesus, we are given new life. We are restored to mascara like the day it is opened, when it makes our eyelashes look like advertisements. Attempting to know and have a relationship with God without Jesus as our mediator proves an impossible feat. We need Jesus who suffered like us, lived among us, and prays for us, to bring us to God and God to us.