missions

Mental Marathon

 

Here I go again. I don’t like repeating this training pattern but it seems to just find me. I begin each training season with vigor and enthusiasm and lately (like in the last five years) I get injured, life happens and I don’t complete my training schedule as well as I set out to do. 

That time has come yet again and believe me when I tell you that I have been downright discouraged. My next marathon will be my 7th and maybe my hardest. I mean I once trained for a half and ended up running a full but it was in my city with 1000 teammates running along side me and many more cheering from the sidelines. That can make anyone move. I ran two marathons in two months once and was injured for both. After the first I decided to take the two months completely off to ‘heal’ before running the second in Disney. This one again, was along side some great teammates and it wasn’t my slowest. I’m not writing this to brag or anything. It definitely is not the results I’ve wanted but who says what a marathon should look like anyway? I know that when I run I feel more vibrant. I know many people who run to bring clean water to Kenya and that can motivate the walker or runner, young and old. I have found that each marathon experience helps you alter, change or repeat what went great or was detrimental to your race.  Usually that means what I should do the week leading up to my race and what food will work best for my performance.  That isn’t in my game plan right now.  I just have to find a way to finish this thing.

Someone once told me they would take up running when they see a runner who smiles. Well that is what I do when I run. I do love the sport and it creates a high like no other. Runners greet one another along a trail and we encourage each other since we know we each run for a purpose. There’s a story behind every race. What brought you there? What motivates you? What keeps you going when everything hurts?  

My husband and I have planned to run a few international marathons and the Berlin marathon is next up. I’ve basically suffered an inflamed toe, that caused me to change my gait to resist the pain and as a result I got bursitis in the opposite knee. I rested, and got discouraged when even walking hurt. I’ve since got cortisone shots and anti inflammatories in my system that was just to get me through 14 days in Kenya and I’m happy to say I feel great! God is faithful!  I have three weeks to train at home and mentally prepare myself to just finish. I guess in hindsight, planning this trip to Kenya wasn’t the best idea due to the timing of the trip but as I’m flying home and looking at my pictures I’m feeling quite the contrary. In the last two weeks I have felt many emotions but one I have experienced before is purpose. I ran on rough, rocky, hilly and dusty roads in Kenya and although the miles were few the very act of getting up early and running alone has propelled my spirit to answer the ever popular question, why? And so I will tell you why. 

I run with the purpose to bring clean water to the Pokot region in Kenya. Why? They’re well being starts with water. I have met these beautiful people and will forever have their wonderful smiles and exuberant spirits in my heart. One day I was running a mile long road completely uphill. I stopped to walk from time to time (I will blame the crazy elevation). I was turning around to repeat my mile long trek uphill when I had to walk and noticed a lady walking in the opposite direction. As I passed her she calmly says to me, ‘pick it up’. I smiled and instantly began to run again. As I came down the hill I ran along side her and stopped. I told her I run in America to bring clean water to her fellow Kenyans. She smiled and thanked me. She told me her name was Anne. That interaction just validates why I need to complete this marathon. First of all, I told Anne I would but I also told many children I met at a few orphanages. Everywhere I turned I would see girls young and old carry water on their heads to their homes. Tears would well up in my eyes when I would pass dried up water beds and there were many. Or worse, the sight of watching children draw water for their families in dirty, contaminated waterbeds. 

Another great moment I experienced was when we pulled off to the side of the road to witness a brand new water well that was completed and celebrated just two weeks prior. We got out and spoke to the few women who were drawing water together. This well is closer to their village and providing healing to everyone who is able to use it. I pumped the water, which was not my first time, but it still gives me chills. Our leader then told me that this well went in because of the money raised from our annual 5k. My family ran this race this past June. I felt proud and humble at the same time. 

I recently heard that the limitations we feel while moving our bodies are in our heads and we can push past them.  Luckily, I also believe in the power of prayer and so when I am weak He is strong. Our running community should celebrate their ups and downs, their successes and injuries and as our race season approaches you better believe I will be repeating my new mantra  ‘pick it up!’

The World Is At My Doorstep

As far back as I can remember I have heard about missionaries.  Not sure what your perception is of such people but I have always had the utmost respect for them.  Whether it’s a couple as old as my parents who have been in Africa for most of their adult life or a young family who sacrifices two years to missions, I feel it’s all good.  Some of my most favorite books are about brave souls who give up the American comforts to serve those who are the least of these.  I remember a time in my life that I wanted to be a missionary.  my first taste of travelling to another country and serve people who spoke a different language was when I was 19 and I went to Mexico.  In fact, my husband asked me about 12 years ago, ‘Where do you see us in 10 years’ and I said with great conviction, ‘I see us on the mission field.’

Fast forward 12 years and we have not sold our belongings, packed up the family and moved to a remote area of Africa to ‘become missionaries’.  I do believe that you don’t, in fact, have to go to the deepest areas of Africa to serve others.  I have a mission field and it’s called Rochester, mi.

Last week, God gave me a beautiful picture of this mission field as I worked alongside some amazing women from Zoe’s public school.  They were from India, Mexico, Italy, Brazil, Japan, South Korea to name just a few.  We held the school’s 2nd annual International Festival and I was excited.  I decided we would celebrate Zoe’s heritage and set up an Ethiopian booth.  I focused on children of Ethiopia and like in my old high school fashion I waited until the last week to prepare.  I did order a flag and many little flags and a beautiful authentic dress for Zoe to wear with plenty of time to arrive before the festival.  However, how I was going to transform a 10×10 tent to look like an Ethiopian house was a bit stressful.  The night before the festival I spotted a well used box of burlap in my basement and imagined that draped over the tent to make it look like a real hut and it turned out perfect.  My husband helped me set up and I was ready.  The daytime was split up into hour blocks for each grade to come through and ask questions and talk about your country.  The kids were fascinated to see other kids who had very little be very happy in these pictures.  It gave them a great perspective and I loved sharing with them.  This was not my favorite part of the day though.  I must say, when I walked around and learned about other countries and these wonderful people’s culture I felt like walls were down and barriers were broken.  Some couldn’t speak English very well but a smile and love goes a long way.  The children in Zoe’s class alone represent about 10 different countries.  This is incredible to me!  God has brought the world to my doorstep.  Zoe loves to share that she was born in another country.  Being born in Canada makes all our family aliens.   Canada isn’t far from here but it’s still different.  There is growth through an event like this.  Kids don’t have to feel different just because they don’t speak English and have different colored skin.  Sometimes when we hear that a school is culturally diverse we shy away from the unknown.  Zoe tells me that at lunch time her friends bring homemade pasta, samosas and eat with chopsticks in her cafeteria.  Awesome!

A proud moment for me was Zoe’s first day of school this past September.  She just left her old house and school of three years and made some neighborhood friends but walking into her school she carries a confidence that much prayer and open conversation has built up in my eight year old.  Some day God might call me to a different mission field.  I’m always asking and want to only live in His will.  I’m certain that He has shown me that my front porch light is on for a reason.  People need to see Jesus’ love right here in my city as I walk Zoe to school and see moms at the gym.  It’s pretty exciting to think that conversations around my kitchen island is just as important as serving someone around the world.  Look up and see who is around you.

The term, ‘life on mission’ gets me out of bed in the morning.  It makes sense of the mundane tasks and gets me out of the Michigan winter blues.  Looking at every relationship and encounter as important as we are to Jesus is also a great perspective.  Walk out your front door and encounter the world.