Grief

Sometimes the news comes quick. Sometimes the news comes slow. No matter how or when it comes, grief travels in the wake of the news. Grief is heavy, weighty, a burden, especially when it involves someone deeply loved. Grief is not meant to be carried alone. It’s too heavy and may last a while—and that’s ok. That’s what family and friends are for, to share the load. Jesus stood outside the tomb of his friend and wept but He did not weep alone. It was a deep, human moment. “ Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted ” (Matt 5:4). If anyone knows how we feel in grief, it’s Him. But His grief did not linger long, as at the mention of his name, Lazarus came forth. We are not meant to dwell in grief, but should leave room enough for it. Let it run its course. Like the song says, “ Every Storm Runs Out Of Rain .” Another song says, “ The storm We will dance as it breaks The storm It will give as it takes And all of our pain is washed away Don't cry or be afraid Some things...

Wear Out or Rust Out

“We must all either wear out or rust out, every one of us. My choice is to wear out.” —Theodore Roosevelt

This last weekend was perhaps one of the most restful weekends had in a very long time. Saturday began slowly and progressed at the speed of two very long naps and culminated in a 3 mile run just as the sun was setting. At first I felt guilty for not being up and doing, but then that’s all I seem to do. It was a day of rest. The next day was not much different. Nothing was pressing, nothing urgent--so why not rest, recharge? But one cannot stay in “recharge” mode.

Theodore Roosevelt did not have a promising beginning. He was a weak, sick, asthmatic until he made a decision to do something different, be someone different. His father installed a home gym where he built up his body strength. Not long after he took to a variety of outdoor sports and excursions, even creating a museum of natural history in his own home. He grew to be a soldier, a fighter, a hunter, an explorer and an amazing President of the United States. When he was in his 50’s an attempt was made on his life but the bullet that should have killed him was stopped by a folded speech in his pocket. When confined to a wheelchair, he declared “All right, I can work that way too!”

At this writing, I am half-of-one hundred years old. Since 2014 I’ve logged 1094 miles covered on foot to date by just getting out of doors running, jogging, hiking or walking. Who knows how many miles have not been recorded in those four years--or in 50. I'm shooting to cover at least 3 miles a day for 30 days starting in July. But I'll also remain flexible--do what I am able, when I am able. But I won't sit down and watch "Wheel of Fortune" until I die.

Karl Meltzer at Coach.me
When asked about what it means to run the Appalachian Trail in record time, Karl Meltzer in his documentary, "Made To Be Broken," reflected that this accomplishment won't mean "a lot to most people, but to me, it would mean I had a great life." All that means is that he accomplished something he wanted to do. He adds, "the trail has taught me how to persevere, how to get over adversity. You just learn a lot about yourself." 

That's all I want to do. Everything's made to be broken and I want to keep learning about who I am. So I'll work when it's time and rest when it's time. I’m no Roosevelt, but I’d rather wear out than rust out. I’d rather break into pieces living life than fall apart sitting still. If something happens that slows me down, then great. “I can work that way too.” But I’ll not rust out. 

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