a race

i ran in my first ever 5K race this morning! i am not what you'd call a runner, and i do realize that running 3 miles for some people is just a warmup, but to me, a woman whose workout consists of chasing after her kids and exercising to a dvd in her living room several times a week, this is a big deal.

i'm not gonna lie--i'm a little proud of myself. first of all, i ran almost the entire way. i stopped to walk for about 20 seconds right before i hit the mile 3 mark and then mustered up my last reserves of strength to continue on to the finish. second, my "training" consisted of jogging around my neighborhood a bit this past wednesday, before i was even planning on participating in the 5K. (signing up was a spur of the moment idea that emerged from a conversation with juli thursday morning.)

a hearty thanks goes to juli, who encouraged me to enter and who kept me on pace almost the entire way. and another great thanks to jenny who selflessly agreed to babysit the kids at the last minute (due to the original babysitter's unfortunate accident that landed her in the emergency room and winn's being out of town).

i finished in just under 32 minutes. the best thing was seeing wyatt and seth toward the end, waiting and watching for me to run past them to the finish line.

all in all, not a bad way to spend a saturday morning.

moving

my family and i are going to be moving away this summer. this is a big part of what's going on in my life right now, and i was thinking it's a bit strange that i haven't said much about it here on this lil' blog of mine. so, i thought i'd share what i wrote recently in some information we sent out to some friends and family.

here goes:

It all started--for me--about two and a half years ago when we visited Charlottesville, Virginia, for the first time. I fell in love with the city, with its history, its Old South charm, its college town energy, its artistic, funky vibe, its plethora of used book stores and coffee shops (books and coffee—it almost doesn’t get any better than that for me).

There was one thing, though, that I didn’t love: the highbrow intellectualism not just in the university culture, but in the city as a whole. It intimidated me. I am most definitely an F (feeler) on the Myers-Briggs, not a T (thinker), so I felt a bit at a loss. (Now, mind you, I’m not stupid; I just think more with my heart and intuition than with my brain.) Still, I left Charlottesville with quite a favorable opinion.

Fast forward to this past summer. I was in Denver visiting two dear friends, and they were talking to me about how wonderful it would be if Winn and I could move back to Denver. I agreed with them—it would be wonderful. Denver was and is a sacred place to both Winn and me because of our experience there. Rebirth, healing, awakening, restoration, redemption, the call of the Wild, Life—all of these things we encountered in the two and half years we called Denver home.

Now, you may be asking, “why were you thinking of moving from Clemson?” Ah, excellent question. Winn and I have known for a while now that Clemson was not going to be a long-term home for us, for various reasons. The sense that we would leave felt confirmed by God, but we didn’t know how or when or where. We’ve just been waiting. And dreaming. (Winn dreaming mostly of Colorado.)

Back to last summer in Denver. As my friends talked about a possible move back to Denver for us, I thought, “Yes, it would be amazing to live close to two of my most favorite people in the world, to move back to this sacred ground, but. . .” There was some hesitation on my part. Deb noticed this and later said to me, “You know, Miska, your no about Denver is just as important as Winn’s yes.” What an unusual and wise thing to say! That got me thinking.

On the plane ride home, knowing that it would take a definite yes from me to leave this place I’ve grown to deeply love, I pondered Deb’s words and began to reflect with God about where in this world would my yes be? My heart first went to the southeast. Something about this part of the country feels like home to me, so I told God that. And then I said, “And if I’m going to narrow it down a little more, I really love Virginia. I don’t know why; I just do.” Pause. Then, “And as long as I’m voicing desire here, I might as well just go ahead and say that I really love the city of Charlottesville. I’m just putting that out there, God. Do with it what You will.”

That was in July. In September, Winn got a phone call from Chris, a friend who is a pastor/church planter/consultant in Virginia. Chris asked Winn if he knew anyone interested in planting a church in Charlottesville, VA. His answer: “Ummm, are you kidding?”

A number of conversations followed, then a visit to Charlottesville, and another visit. More conversations. All the while, Winn and I felt carried along by God in this crazy process. Church planting hadn’t been something we’d been thinking about, but as the opportunity unfolded, it felt strangely compelling. And as we got deeper in, it began to feel even more like God was pulling (or pushing—I’m not sure) us along, pointing to this particular place in Virginia and this risky proposition, and asking, “Will you obey Me? Will you serve this city in My name and for the sake of My kingdom?”

Well, that’s not much of a choice, is it? Our hearts burned within us; that’s the only way I know to describe it. This city, the church plant, the timing—all felt like a convergence of our gifts and our desires. We didn't dare say anything but yes, despite the ever-present questions and the fears.

What is especially beautiful to me is what God has been doing in me over the last couple of years: an increasing acceptance of who God dreamed me into existence to be, an obedience to His call to step into my true self, a reclaiming of things in me that had been lost and damaged. I have felt and do feel God’s call for me to minister to those whose minds and hearts are divided, to those who have been deeply wounded, to those who feel their brokenness and want to find life and healing. I can do this in Charlottesville, in ways that I could not have done it two and a half years ago. I’m not intimidated anymore by the intellectualism of the city. I can see it for what it is now—something good that can become just another elaborate way of hiding. Fig leaves, if you will.

Frederick Buechner says that our calling or vocation in this life is where “our deep joy and the world’s deep hunger meet.” Charlottesville, we believe, is that place for us now, that place where our particular energy and passion—our gifts—meet a deep need in a context and a culture that we love.


*if you'd be interested in receiving the mailing we sent out, just let me know.

alleluia. Christ is risen.

He is risen, indeed. alleluia.

easter egg hunting. . .

may your easter be filled with the joy and hope of the resurrection.

mayday, mayday

last saturday i got my hair cut. i went in knowing that i wanted my hair to be quite a bit shorter, and i took 2 pictures of myself from years ago when we lived in denver, pictures of when i loved my short hair and before i started all this "trying to grow it out" nonsense.

as i've said, i'm in the process of accepting myself more, accepting who God created me to be, and that even translates to my hair. i'm accepting the fact that i'm a short hair kind of girl (my hair is just happier that way). plus, i feel like i'm entering into a whole new season, a combination of some inner healing and our upcoming move to virginia. so i wanted a bold statement, a transformation of my "look" to symbolize the inner transformation i feel taking place.

and bold is what i got. unfortunately, i wasn't planning on being quite that bold. my trusty hair stylist interpreted my pictures in a different way than i was expecting and cut my hair very, very short. when i realized how much she cut off, i started the downward spiral into panic. i called winn on the way home to prepare him that i was totally spinning out of control, all the while doing my deep breathing exercises in a futile attempt to calm the growing anxiety. i frantically tried to figure out a way to hide out for a week or two so that my hair could grow at least a tiny bit before i had to show myself in public. to no avail. the next day was sunday, and i was scheduled to participate in the church service, which meant i had to get up in front of EVERYONE. oh dear God, what was i to do?

what could i do? nothing, really. you know the saying "there's no use crying over spilt milk"? well, the same thing applies here. i felt helpless and trapped and so very exposed.

what is it about us women and our hair? what exactly does it symbolize for us? i've been puzzled about this because i've realized yet again (in the midst of what i can only describe as trauma) the deep and powerful meaning it holds for us as women, or at least for me and every single woman i've ever talked to.

it represents, i think, our beauty and how we feel about ourselves. john eldredge once wrote that every woman is in some way either searching for or running from her beauty. i think i do both. i'm constantly searching for physical beauty--trying to find just the right hairstyle, keeping up with my workout plan, looking for the latest skin cream or that perfect pair of jeans, etc., while simultaneously denying my inner beauty. much of the time, i don't really believe any inner beauty exists, which is why i spend so much time trying to fool the world with some semblance of the outward.

if i can charm or distract you with some kind of beauty on the outside, then maybe, just maybe you won't look any deeper to find that it is all an illusion. i'll keep rejection at bay.

this is the heart of why The Haircut Gone Awry was so traumatic. my intense reaction was connected to those deep, hidden feelings that at my core i am ugly and undesirable.

i spent far too much emotional energy and time completely freaking out on saturday. i was in crisis--as usual an identity crisis (this is my specialty). what eventually helped, after praying repeatedly that God would make my hair grow overnight ("i know you can do this sort of thing, God!") and realizing that this is not how God usually works in my life, was looking up to Jesus and listening to him, instead of to my own diseased inner dialogue.

i can't say that i really heard anything; i didn't get that "healing word" that made it all better. but being in His presence was healing, in a very quiet way. i had the sense that He was smiling at me, slightly amused at all my needless turmoil. and i was reminded of when He has spoken to me those healing words, when He has told me who i am, and that my identity has nothing at all to do with how long or short my hair is.

so, i woke up sunday morning, looked in the mirror and shrugged. i am becoming a bit more reconciled to the new look, and find that at some angles and in a certain light, my hair is actually kind of cute.

home sweet home

there's a for sale sign in my front yard.

i don't quite know how i feel about that. i suppose bittersweet is the word. i know it's time for change since it seems evident that God is moving us along (to charlottesville, va, for those of you who don't know), and i'm truly excited about that. but i also know that i've sunk my roots pretty deep into this red clay, into our one-of-a-kind church community, and into this plot of ground on east camelia lane.

i've lived a lot of life here in this house o' mine. this is where i became a mother and where we brought our baby boys after they were born. this is where winn and i clawed our way back to each other after the tumultuous disruption of having children, when we were as distant from each other as we've ever been. this is where wyatt and seth learned to crawl, walk, talk, talk back, dance, where they've grown into the crazy, exuberant, alive little people they are today.

and oh, the conversations i've had here over the past six years! rich, beautiful conversations with people brave enough and honest enough to share their mess, their brokenness, their joy, their tears and raucous laughter. these are the conversations i love most in the world, and the people who have offered themselves in this way have given me a gift beyond measure.

it's here in this house that i've felt the full gamut of life: the sorrow of loss; bright flashes of joy; that keen, doubled-over feeling of loneliness; sweet companionship; the dark blue of depression; mind-numbing fear; tenacious love; the fragile spark of hope; the rich sense of life happening all around and within me. such a unique mix of love and grief.

it is here, with these walls as witness, where i've become more of who i really am. what a long and arduous process that is! brings to mind the story of eustace, the boy who turns into a dragon in c.s. lewis' book the voyage of the dawn treader. he scrapes and scratches off layer after layer of dragon skin in an effort to find himself again, until finally aslan shows up and takes his big claws and rips that obstinate outer shell away. what is left is delicate, pink flesh that aslan then baptizes in a pool of cool, refreshing water.

the things about this house that i've cursed at over the years are becoming dear to me now, as my time here draws to a close. these walls have encompassed me in my journey. this house has been a haven.

it is never a small thing to leave the place you've called home.

new friend/windy city

i spent the weekend in chicago visiting my new friend ginger.  she and i met this past october when she and her family were visiting south carolina; we talked for all of five minutes after church that sunday and hit it off.  we've only emailed since then and talked on the phone once or twice, but have really enjoyed getting to know each other.  we figured it was time to actually have some conversations in person.

it was a bit like a blind date, really, and i was a little nervous going into the weekend.  (what if it's weird?  what if we totally do not get along?)  but when i walked up to her at the baggage claim, it was surprisingly normal.  just like, "oh, there you are, friend."  

we had a great time together.  we spent the first night in downtown chicago--went to a wonderful restaurant, putzed around a shopping center called water tower place, sat in starbucks and talked while we sipped our coffee.  the next morning we had breakfast at the hotel, and then walked around outside for a while.  it was cold but lovely, with snowflakes swirling around above us in the wind.  what was also beautiful was the four-story gap and the three-story crate and barrel. naturally, i had to investigate those little gems.

then we went to ginger's house in naperville.  while her adorable son bauer napped, ginger and her husband tj and i sat around and talked and read.  it was the perfect lazy sunday afternoon.  later, we all went to downtown naperville, which is right down the street from their cute little house.  we got a pizza from their favorite pizza place, and our dessert was cookie dough from this place called cookie dough creations.  they have eight different kinds of cookie dough, if you can believe it.  it was all delicious.

the next morning, ginger made us all one of her famous smoothies, and then she took me to the airport.  it was great to be away, and it was great to come home again.  i felt refreshed and ready to jump back into my life.  i also feel like i've solidified a friendship.  i'm definitely adding her to my collection.