The Cleanse

First week recap - Amidst a great deal of complaining - the whole family succeeded (survived) the second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh days.  Meleea has produced a couple fantastic soups for dinner.  The one I helped with was a travesty.  I was the only one who ate it and I only did it to prove how committed I am.  I made a healthy but clearly not delicious or satisfying green shake with kale for breakfast.  Headaches reared up in the afternoon the first couple days and I can feel myself building for a mucus explosion.  I'm finally starting to feel like I'm in a groove.  The rest of the family is done but I'm doing liquid for breakfast and dinner with a solid meal for lunch.
I lost about five pounds and peed about once every 10 minutes (ok - not quite that much).
All of us could tell some improvement.

The rest of the family eased off after the first week.  I kept going.

I've lost about 10 pounds.  No headaches.  Great, deep sleep waking up without my tongue coated in goo.  Very increased energy level.  Reduced heart rate.

I went for a bike ride today.  Not sure if it's a result of weight lifting or the cleanse or both but I'm much faster for much longer.

I'm also more patient, more kind and less snappy.  Ask Meleea.

I keep thinking about the time Jesus said that whoever seeks to save his life will loose it, but he who gives it up willingly for his sake will find it.  Part of this effort for me is acknowledging and honoring the wonder of a fearfully made body.  It's capable of health, healing, strength, endurance, mood regulation, and a host of other almost supernatural accomplishments.  I believe in this creation and I'm interested to see how it performs when I treat it well instead of abusing it.

I finished the cleanse on Tuesday last week but I've continued with minor deviations (read - Philly Cheesesteak Sandwich on Friday night and taco dinner for Cinco De Mayo)  Still no dairy or wheat based stuff.

I think I'm going to just keep going.  It's not that hard and I feel great.  I'm hoping my allergies are significantly reduced.

I'll let you know.

Thank You Ryan Woods

Thursday Brotherhood

My friend Ryan Woods took a short cut today.  After spending his rich life generously, graciously and with much humor and honesty - He left.  Too soon for those that knew him even a little.  He raised the bar for the rest of us and kept the angels laughing and scratching their beards.  I will miss him and I am terribly sad for Jess and their kids but God is good and he will love them well.  

Ryan laid it all out.  He risked nearly everything.  I’d just say he risked it all but I don’t know him that well.  It sure seemed like it.  In doing so, he secured all that was important and left behind a whole passel of people who at the very least are curious and at most are following him while he follows Jesus.  

Being on Mission is Not Work

Being on mission is not like work.  There are a few words that evoke a particular internal response in me.  I’m wrestling with my response because I don’t like how it feels.  “Intentional” and “purposeful” are two of those words; right along with “mission”.  The idea of being on mission is attractive to me.  I like the sense of doing something – facing a challenge, overcoming it and getting the task accomplished.  I think that’s great when I’m building, cleaning, fixing or solving something tangible.  But it doesn’t work well in relationships.

More Dramatic

The sign at our new house being removed

The Miller family has left the compound.  We have been waiting three long, eventful and uh, “character building” years for this event.  It’s a long story with unexpected twists and fascinating characters.  It is not nearly over or nearly understood but the setting has changed dramatically.  Together we are thankful beyond explanation both to God for his provision and our friends and family for their support and very practical help.

Why I Read

I do not read only to learn.  I do not read to gather facts and information – to hold them and at earliest opportunity, regurgitate.  I do not read or study to capture the world in my mind and define it.  It would be a perverse limitation and I am infinitely limited for the task.

Burn Barrel

His rescuer dragged 

blackened remnants

of last ditch effort 

to the barrel

and stood

with a charred stick

gripped absently.

She pushed down

and down again

into the heat

staring blank

and dry eyed

waiting

for the fire

to rebuild.

What I'm doing

To friends, family, neighbors & people wondering why I spend so much time in coffee shops but still have calluses on my hands,

I recently accepted the role of Partnership Developer with Go Connect.  I am more excited about this opportunity than any other for many years.  It seems like much of my life has led me to and prepared me for this assignment. 

I am working with another local missionary, David Bilby, on a project called Neighbor LinkUp.  It is an interactive, Internet database that connects volunteers with the people and projects that need them.  Our mission is to fight against all forms of isolation, illness and poverty by connecting generations relationally to meet practical needs. 

Not So Little Details

I am so thankful every once in a while.

It should be more often, but when I am, I do not worry about that.

Because I am busy being thankful.

I am lost in the ideas before

And after the thankful comes.

Details are generous interrupters,

Reminders and awakers of my imagination.

I trip over their slow toes

As they dance in measured steps

In time with a loud heartbeat.

The smell of an old car that has served well and been appreciated.

Kisses softly on my wife’s throat while she waits.

Giggling children who are old too fast reminding.

The neighborhood hawk watching still on the wire for breakfast.

Last few beans bumping through the grinder by my hand.

That Brandon and Lulu at Golden Tusk know my 35a with six stars.

Heat finally under the dash and up my pant legs on a cold morning.

Freshly cleaned spectacles, warm and clear on my crooked nose.

That’s eight.

Good Things for a Bad Person?

It is a scary place, this spinning speck of dirt caught between the tide of heaven and hell.  When my imagination brings some meaning to the information my brain is collecting, I am so relieved to know I am saved from the terror.  It’s scary to know I am so close and it is so easy, so regular to end up drifting in ignorance, rebellion and abject stupidity into the abyss. 

I am at odds with my base desires when I soften to the strong, quiet affections of Jesus.  But, oh, it is a worthy effort to let go and rest in them.

Top 5 things that make you a legit "runner" (besides running)

Running Alone - better or worse?

1.  Tell Injury Stories: 

a.  Find logical places runners congregate.  This can be nearly anywhere except buffet restaurants. 

b.  Look for shoes and race shirts.  

c.  Meander over and stand around in your running gear looking nonchalant.  If running gear is unavailable, try to look like you have a low heart rate and a high VO2 max. 

d.  When congregating occurs, blend in with group and nod sympathetically when they start telling training injury stories.  Don’t worry; you won’t have to wait long for this. 

e.  Now this is a critical move that requires preparation.  It may be best to practice in front of a mirror while recording on your iPod.  When a break comes, chuckle knowingly and launch into your injury story.  Word of caution, you must tell the story as if happened in the distant past.  Whether you say so or not, you must leave story-telling buddies with the impression that you healed and learned from your training mistakes and everything is now back to normal.  In fact you are stronger.  Do not expose current weakness – they are like jackals!  You will be de-legitimized faster than you can open a tube of Gu.

Words R Drugs

Bendy Straw

In the midst of scintillating conversation with Mark and Brant at Compass Coffee this morning, the artistry demonstrated by Bryan as he poured life and caffeine into an Orange Ginger Americano captivated our active minds and shut our mouths.  Watching his delivery of said coffee craftsmanship into the not yet twitchy hands of a definitely not hipstery hippie type of patron.  Mark paused mid sentence and breathed with a subconscious sideways nod, “that guy’s a drug dealer.”

I responded as I watched, “Too bad he went into business.” 

Non-Profit?

My daughter asked me yesterday what to tell people when they ask, “what does your dad do?”  It’s not the first time she’s asked that.  It was an easy question for most of her life.  He’s a contractor… slot filled, box checked, identity neatly secured.  If I trained her right, and I did, her answer might even produce a lead for a job. 

For the last few years, no one really knows what I do.  Including me.  I have been busy enough.  I think I’ve avoided apathy entirely and hope I’ve dodged lazy and good-for-nothing.  It’s just that my answer to, “what do you want to be when you grow up,” has been inconveniently interrupted by the growing. 

I Ran a Marathon

I ran a marathon.  Rather, it ran over me.  Why people volunteer for such torture, is difficult to explain.  I speak as one of the crazy people who did volunteer.  Though it produced some of the greatest physical discomfort I have ever endured, I would do it again.  I think I will do it again.  Maybe soon.  It hasn’t been that long (3 days) – I’m not ready to make any declarations.  I will do it again for many reasons.  It changed my life.  I will never again be a non-marathoner.  I will never wish I’d run a marathon.  I can stand in a group of skinny, tightly clothed people and nod knowingly.  I have a t-shirt.  Supposedly, we are the 1% (there were signs along the route that said “99% of the population can’t do this, you are the 1%).  I have my own stories of cramps, hills, other runners and murderous preparations.

Interestingly, and I heard this from runners around me on the course also, I don’t agree with the sign.

Shoe Armor

 It’s all about the shoes.  At least for me, this time, the shoes were the critical factor. 

I am a runner.  I am not a fair weather runner.  I am not a competitive runner.  I run to be outside, to pray, to live well, to think clearly and to know that I can run.  I catch myself, sometimes, watching my feet change places rhythmically - hypnotic forward momentum.  It’s amazing to watch my body adapt to longer faster distances.  I love country roads and the frogs croaking, crickets chirping while the trees turn dark against the wide color changing sky.  It makes me chuckle and holler with unbridled, happy energy. 

A while ago, I got a new pair of wrong shoes.

Internal Combustion 2

This is a grave and dangerous game I’m playing.  Trying again, taking on a project with hope that it will be more than it appears on the surface.  I am playing with gas – the risk of excess and failure – while smoking a fat cigar.  I’ve done things like this before and gone too far.  I’ve done them wrong and gotten carried away.  It is my adopted nature to receive a vision and run too fast with it.  Take it outside the bounds of its original intention.  To make it more risky, I’m involving other people, their hearts and healing.  But I know it can be done well.  I keep getting visions.  I can see fleeting pictures of transformation in my head.  I am reckless with my hope. 

Internal Combustion

My heart is damaged.  It is scarred by loss and disappointment.  The scars offer evidence of their presence with every beat in a complicated rhythmic pattern I have yet to keep time with.  I voluntarily gave some of what I’ve lost.  Some, less willingly, I either accepted or still resist.  I expect my off-beat tapping will improve with further acceptance.  My disappointment withers with the realization that what is replacing my losses is far more valuable to me, far more powerful and life giving than what I’ve given up.  This does not eliminate the scars or their pain, it makes them important, gives them a place of significance and hints to poetic lyrics being crafted into music.

Letter To Old Men

Dear Older Men,

We respectfully request the honor of your presence on the battlefield for our lives.  The tactics of the enemy are overwhelmingly successful.  It is evident that there is no longer hope for an immediate solution.  The enemy’s attack requires weaponry we are not sufficiently able to operate.  We are loosing this battle and many more will, according to the score of casualties, be lost by us.  It is now incumbent, upon those who are able and willing, to inspire the survivors and train the untested.  While this must be done with vigor and urgency, we believe it can only be done over time.  Please confirm.

Score Matters?

Monday Columbian sports page headline reads, “Score Is All That Matters.”  I call BS.  Since I have a BS degree, I can do this.  In the online version a less dramatic title headlined the article.  I like the print version better; it’s controversial, not just informative.  I think it comes from the journalistic confluence of art and fact.  The sports editor also wrote a commentative article entitled “Chance to Win Not Same As Ability To.”  I agree with these titles… in context.  But that’s important.  Truth spoken and agreed to out of context does more damage to faith and hope than any circumstance. 

Beginning Earl

A couple 40-something guys...

Earl

Yesterday, I began a partnership with a 38-year-old truck.  My daughter says he is an Earl.  It’s nearly as old as me.  My friend Brant discovered him after someone else found him languishing namelessly in a field, starved of fuel and rusting in the rain.  After working hard to be a benefit for his owner, who recently passed away, Earl found himself on the sidelines with muddy, flat feet and no where to go… Poor Earl.

Tastes Great, Less Filling

I used to work too much.  I still do every chance I get but I try to spread the chances out a bit more.  It’s an opportunity I’m taking advantage of since my 1.7 decade contracting business augured into the ground like a giant run-a-way drill bit drilling holes for pole building posts.  Why work hard when you can live off the benefits of investing your life in the system of entrepreneurial business ownership?  I’m not sure a question mark is appropriate at the end of a rhetorical, sarcastic comment.