four-minute friday: the mountain

Go. I'd decided I was gonna run the mountain this week. But I didn't do it. I don't really have a good excuse except... I don't really want to. I'm making myself do it. Well, apparently I'm not making myself do it. But I intended to.

Kind of ironic that it takes self-discipline to have self-discipline. Wait. Wha?! Exactly.

So I'm going public with my mountainous intentions. That creates some accountability and motivation for me. Really what it creates is pressure, which will get me to run that hill because I should. Because y'all know about it now. (I gotta admit, this Yankee has found y'all to be pretty handy at times.)

So here goes. This coming week, I'm gonna do it. I'll shave my legs so I can wear shorts, put on my running shoes, grab my iPod with a playlist made just for the occasion, and I will get my procrastinating self to the top of that darn mountain!

Just as a disclaimer: By "run the mountain", what I really mean is "run as much of it as I can with my out-of-shapeness and angry-lung-inducing asthma, but really I'd just be happy to make it to the top at all". So it'll probably be more walk than run, but even that's a stretch for this indoor girl.

Did I mention I'm living in Hotlanta?! Yeah. I'll let you know how it goes.

What mountain are you tackling next week?

Done.

four-minute friday: stink and the sharks

Go. I've had a blast watching Shark Week. (Anyone else hooked??)  My favorite is watching the great whites leap out of the water as they attack. Have you seen it? Incredible! I've also loved all the footage of South Africa. Did you know the SA coast is the third deadliest in the world because of all the shark attacks? Mmhmmm. It's true.

My ten-year-old buddy Stink has watched a bunch of episodes with me. And let me tell you, it is SO fun watching with him. He is intrigued and freaked out at the same time, and alternates between wide-eyed wonder and running out of the room.

And he says the funniest stuff.

Convo 1 Me: Are you scared? Stink: Yeah. But I'll take it like a man.

Convo 2 Me: Do you want to come sit with me? Stink: (slowly pulling his head out from under the pillow) No, I'll be alright. He glanced up at the TV, saw blood, and dove off his chair to the floor right by my feet. Me: Do you want to sit with me now? Stink: Not yet. Gettin' close to it, though.

Yeah. Between Stink and the sharks, it's been an entertaining week. And my heart just swelled when mid-show he looked over and said, "I love watching TV with you."

Yessss! It only took some appendage-severing to win him over!

Done.

It's not nearly as fun watching by myself.

four-minute friday: am i just lazy?

Go. My energy and motivation have been record-breakingly low for days now. I blurted out a "What's wrong with me???" to a friend, and she asked if it was a rhetorical question. To her, it makes complete sense that I'd be feeling this way. After months (years?) of stress and ongoing fatigue and facing the hardest situations of my life, she thinks my body's just finally getting to let down a bit.

I get what she's saying. I just hate feeling... unglued. I don't know if that's the best descriptor, but that's all my fuzzy brain can come up with right now.

I feel like I could sleep for a month. I can't seem to think coherently. I have zero motivation to do the things on my growing to-do list, even though they're urgent. I forget everything. I lack even the creativity or fully-processed thoughts to really blog these days. And it frustrates me that I've got nothing worth saying.

But this post I could do. I figure it's only four minutes, and I'm fine with it being all rambley. For just this one post anyway.

I guess what I'm wondering is---How do I know if I should take my body/mind's cues to disconnect for a while or if I simply need to be more disciplined?

Done.

four-minute friday: gettin' my groove on

Go. I love me some music.

I can't carry a tune and I don't play any instruments, but dang---I love me some music. It just resonates with me. Sometimes it's the lyrics (I'm a words girl), or the acoustic guitar, or the perfect harmonies. Sometimes I can't even put my finger on what "it" is. I just know a song has it.

And I love it.

Every song has a "crank it up" spot---the part I love the most, that's best heard at top volume. Drive with me once and you'll know exactly what I mean.

I have absolutely no rhythm, but music just moves me. I find it impossible to stay still. Sometimes a girl's just gotta get her groove on.

I wish I could actually dance.

But the fact that I can't doesn't stop me from dancing in the car. Or in my bedroom. Or, my personal favorite, in the kitchen.

Because seriously---there ain't nothin' like kitchen dancing.

Done.

four-minute friday: goodbyes

Go. Jon McLaughlin said it best: I hate the sound that goodbyes make.

I've talked before about the revolving door of my life. I've said a lot of goodbyes in the past eleven-plus years as a missionary. It never gets easier.

I think my heart is more sensitive right now and she feels more deeply the sting in every farewell. The miles of distance seem multiplied. The sorrow that comes in the night feels heavier. Sigh.

I've been living in Ohio with my Kitty's parents for eight months. Terry and Weezer took me in as one of their own daughters and made me feel very loved and cared for at a time I really needed it. Goodbyes were tearful when I left for Atlanta this week, and driving away from my W'ville home felt completely bittersweet in so many ways.

My heart is echoing today with my least favorite sound.

The one that goodbyes make.

Done.

four-minute friday: happenings

Go. I've been back in Africa for ten days. And while my days have been filled with all sorts of hard, there's also been a lot of really wonderful randomness.

Like staying up late and sleeping in long with my SweetFriend.

We've watched dozens of episodes of Ally McBeal, which means we have a whole list of new words that are now popping up in our vocabulary. Like snappish, bygones, disparaged, throes. They're fun. You should try them sometime.

I'd left behind a stash of American treats that are now pretty much all expired. I don't know why I even bother checking the date when I'm going to just shrug and eat it anyway. Here's to stale Wheat Thins, questionable salsa con queso, and surprisingly still-good cookies that expired a year and a half ago.

God's good to me and only our first few days here were freezing. I learned how to rock my fireplace, which isn't as easy as simply pushing a button to light the "fake" gas fire. I'm talking wood, newsprint, and matches --- Survivor-style. But today was sunny enough that I actually got away with just a short-sleeve shirt for a while. The fact that I'm wearing a fleece over it right now doesn't take away from the joy of being de-layered earlier.

Sheesh, these four minutes went by too quickly.

All that to say, even though being here is really hard... There is beauty in my ashes.

Done.

four-minute friday: love and loyalty

Go. She was walking down the hill while I was walking up it. The moment she realized it was me, she burst into tears. We hugged for a long time.

Later, at my kitchen table, we talked. I wanted to know what's new in her world and how her heart is. We both spoke; we both cried. She asked questions, she listened, she said beautiful things that my heart needed to hear. My friend overwhelmed me with her love and loyalty.

My mind keeps going back to those moments, replaying them over and over. I can't find words to convey how hard these days have been, and how much I needed those minutes of feeling completely grounded. Of feeling as though I have purpose.

My prayers have been laced with a mixture of emotions and extreme requests. Good thing He knows my heart.

I'm so thankful that you're talking to Him about me.

Mmmm... That, too, is love and loyalty.

Done.

four-minute friday: demon treadmills

Go. I'm afraid of treadmills.

No, really. I am.

I've been hanging out with Gym for several months now. I've run on the track, used the cross trainer, lifted weights, even taken Zumba classes. But I haven't even touched one of the treadmills. I barely even glance in their general direction. They're scary.

Stop sneering. It's a completely rational fear.

Because I know what can happen on a treadmill.

I've laughed at seen enough videos to know that in a fight against a treadmill, I would surely lose. Every time.

Don't know what I'm talking about? Then you should watch these clips and laugh learn your lesson. They're all short videos, but if you're in a real hurry at least watch this one. These five seconds could spare you serious bodily harm down the road.

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Treadmills are of the devil.

Just like moths.

Done.

four-minute friday: business meeting

Go. A-hem. Can I have your attention please? It's time for some Gritty business.

This meeting is officially called to order. All those present, say "Aye!"

1. The talk to me page is finally up and running. That's where you can go if you want to send me an email. But even better, you can also record and send me a video message! How fun is that?! So if you're feeling creative or just want to say hey, go 'head and send me some video mail.
2. There's also a new page called the lounge. It's a video chat room---so all of you with webcams can meet up and talk to each other. I need you guys to check it out and let me know how it works. Maybe we need to organize an inaugural Grit chat!?!
3. We're getting close to 20,000 comments. We celebrated the 10,000th with a giveaway---Brandy won herself some brownies---and I'm thinking we need to do something like that again. The big question is: what should the prize be?! Thoughts? Anyone? Bueller?

Meeting adjourned.

Done.

four-minute friday: wonderbread

Go. I need to be honest. After being in Seattle for a couple weeks, I'm finding it a little more challenging to be back in Wonderbread, Ohio. (No offense to any of my midwesterly readers!) There are lots of reasons it's hard to be here right now: I miss the city. I crave diversity. It's lonely.

Having friends nearby all day every day for two weeks straight was just what I needed. And now I'm back to being far from those my heart holds close. Hmph.

I'm driving to Cleveland today, though, and I'm already smiling just thinking of how fill-upping it will be. And not just because there's potential for some slightly-more-urbanesque experiences than I get in my corner of the state. But because I'll have a weekend with my heart's friend. Which means there's bound to be lots of laughter, long talks, stretches of comfortable silence, late nights, and (of course) some Flight of the Conchords.

And I get to crank up the jams on my road trip there and back. Awwwwww yeah...

Done.

Go ahead and four-minute about your weekend plans. Or, well, anything really.

crawling back onto the altar

"To live a life of prayer, of sacrifice, of surrender to God."

Twelve years ago I penned those words as my life mission statement. I wanted to be intentional about making my life count for something greater than me. I wanted to be deliberate about leveraging my life for His glory. And everything I could see myself doing boiled down to that simple statement.

I said simple, not easy. 'Cause it's been anything but easy.

Those words have been ringing in my ears this past week. Prayer, sacrifice, surrender to God. Do I still mean it?

I want to say I'm willing, even when I don't know what He's asking me to do. I want to follow Him even when I don't know which way He wants me to go. I want to serve Him even when it means giving up my own notions of how I can best do that. I want to honor and glorify Him with every breath, every word, every step.

The only problem with being a living sacrifice is my tendency to crawl off the altar. When I can't see what's next, when the flames of uncertainty seem too much for me to bear, sometimes I climb off. I choose to follow fear instead of faith. I long for the certainties of Egypt over the uncertainties of freedom.

But I'm done. Today I'm climbing back on the altar.

The Lord Himself goes before me and will be with me. Among all the unknowns and uncertainty, He is already there. He knows. He is certain. So if I remain in Him, I can have confidence and peace even when facing more uncertainties than ever before in my life.

As I've ruminated on it and wrestled through it, I know this much is true: I still want each moment of my life to be one of prayer, of sacrifice, of surrender to God.

Use me however You want, God. However You want.

four-minute friday: bread butts

Go. I can't stand banana butts. Or hot dog butts. And I really don't like bread butts.

But I used to feel like I needed to be a bread butt martyr. I'd eat them, even though I hate them. Simply so someone else didn't need to. I'm realizing that I do that with a lot of things. I'll choose what I don't like if I feel that decision will be better for others in some way.

But I had an epiphany about the butts: Some sacrifices just don't need to be made.

Bread butts simply do not need to be eaten. By anyone. So I stopped taking one for the team and started giving the butts to the birds.

Everybody wins.

Done.

Your turn! Leave a four-minute comment about bread butts...

four-minute friday: whatchawaitingfor?

Go. In the past six months...

• I haven't had a single sore throat. (I used to have one almost every day.)

• I haven't had a cold. (Despite sitting in a germ-infested airplane for 17 hours, traveling from hot summer to freezing winter.)

• I've been able to swallow pills much easier. (Although I still do my throw-my-head-back-and-swoosh maneuver, just to be safe.)

And that, my friends, is nothing short of a miracle as far as I'm concerned. So the question remains: Why did I wait so long to get my tonsils removed? Ugh.

What's something you know you should do something about? Why are you waiting?

Done.

four-minute friday: he held both

Go. I can't shake this thought, even though it's really hard for me to dwell on right now:

Jesus hung on that cross to take more than my own sins. He also hung there to carry the sins of others that hurt me deeply. And in that same instant, He hung there to carry the pain and sorrow I feel because of those sins against me.

In the very same moment, He held both. Wept for both. Bore the eternal burden of both.

So that both of us could be free.

Done.

four-minute friday: soundtrack

Go. Music moves me. That sounds corny. And I'm trying to think of a less cheeseball way to say what I mean, but with the clock ticking, I feel pressure to just keep rambling writing.

Music really is therapeutic to me. God speaks through lyrics and melody lines. He whispers through egg shakers and nudges me with notable percussion. I feel Him in a singer's voice that takes me by surprise.

My iPod is one of my most prized possessions; it carries a song for every occasion. I'm often behind the times with what others are listening to, but I'm okay with that. I have plenty of music from my favorite "genre": melancholy.

I didn't bring a car adapter with me to the States, so I've had to improvise. My $10 portable speakers now accompany me as I drive so that I can hear my tunage. I keep it cranked at almost-full volume and it's nowhere near as loud as I'd like it to be, but that's okay.

Because I love simply being able to hear the soundtrack of my life.

Done.

four-minute friday: do me a favor

Go. I've been contemplating my four-minute post for a few hours now and, with no clear topic in mind, I finally decided to just start typing.

Last night was my last intern class of the year. It was overwhelmingly incredible, to say the least. But I already blogged about that over on the Field Blog.

This afternoon I'm taking the interns for their last visit to Hope House. I know it's going to be emotional; they've poured themselves into these kids for an entire year...

We leave Monday morning at the ungodly hour of 4:00 to drive to Cape Town for a week of debriefing. I'm looking forward to one last hurrah with them. And I can't wait to see me some jackass penguins. (I'm serious! They exist! And they live in Africa!)

I talk often about the revolving door of my life in ministry --- how I tire of the constant turnaround of people. I must confess: I've grown to dread this time of year. All the goodbyes and the need to reopen my heart to start over? Man oh man, it's hard for me.

So will you do me a favor? Every time you drink a hot frothy beverage in one of those gloriously divine red to-go cups, remember me and say a quick prayer for my heart.

Done.

four-minute friday: pablo

Go. Last week at Hope House (the orphanage we work at each Friday) the interns told the story of Paul's conversion. Matt narrated and Shannon played a very dramatic Paul. (You've gotta overcompensate when you're the wrong gender for the part...)

After explaining how God got Paul's attention and asked him to "work for Him", Matt asked the kids how they thought Paul responded.

One girl raised her hand. "He said, 'Yes'."

"That's right," Matt replied. "And what do you think God said next?"

There was a long pause. A little boy stood up to answer. "He said, 'Thank you.'"

Classic.

Done.

three-minute thursday: hiatus

Go. It's 5:21 on Thursday morning. In less than 40 minutes we'll be on our way to the Indian Ocean with two cars full of interns. Today's agenda includes screaming down a water slide and giggling around a lazy river. (Did you know I absolutely love water parks?)

Tomorrow and Saturday I'll be soaking up as much as I can at a leadership conference; I have a lot to learn!

Sunday I'll be boarding a plane with my husband. Quite a few of them actually (planes, not husbands) as we fly from Durban to Johannesburg to Frankfurt to Rome to Palermo, Sicily.

I won't be checking email for two-and-a-half weeks. I won't be blogging either. The only new post you'll see while I'm gone is one that's scheduled for a specific day. You'll understand when you see it.

Play nice!

Ciao!

Done.

four minute friday: hope

Go. I'm off to Hope House in an hour. That's the local orphanage I take our interns to each Friday afternoon. This is one of the things I missed most while I was in America.

I love watching the kids' eyes light up as they learn something new. I love seeing them shoot their hands in the air, volunteering to help with the object lesson. I love the zeal with which they recite their memory verses.

But mostly I love sitting quietly with one or two of them, lavishing them with love and feeling my heart be strengthened.

I've been hearing stories of how much the kids have grown, and all the new things they're capable of doing now. I'm looking forward to seeing a healthy Nkosi, a walking, talking, happy Katleho, an interactive Mbali. I'm looking forward to seeing our interns in action, doing what they do best.

I'm tired today and feel like I don't have much to offer. But my arms aren't too tired to hug and to hold; that much I can do. I can be a quiet refuge for a child who needs just that.

This is the perfect ending to my week.

Done.

four-minute friday: convalescing

Go. I wore a bra for the first time in a week.

Let me back up a bit. This morning, I made myself get out of bed and not only shower, but also shave.  (I swear, my body grows an ungodly amount of hair in seven days!) I put on makeup and my glasses (although my eyes were seeing just fine all week without 'em), and did my hair. By "did my hair", of course all I really mean is I pulled my bangs back in a clip and tousled the rest with my hands.

I put on real clothing (I've been rocking the PJ Queen look), slipped my feet into flip flops, grabbed my purse, and exited my bedroom. And then the house. (GASP!)

I had a follow-up appointment with the surgeon, and figured I'd do some errands while I was "out that way".

Doctor's office. Check. UPS. Check. CVS to get more drugs. Check. (Yesssssss!) Pizzeria. Check. Target. Check, check, check. Sporting goods store. Check. Outlet mall. Check. Chinese restaurant for take-out. Check.

I arrived back at home in serious pain, just about unable to speak, and utterly exhausted. My butt is finally planted back on my bed, where I plan to remain for the rest of the night. Just as soon as I take my bra off and get back into pajamas.

Done.