Walk On

Here's a recap of yesterday's blog:

 

Perfectly summarized

So it's been almost four years since Vader's ride of choice struck me at Sonic. Since that time my knee has ebbed and flowed between healing and breaking more. As we speak, I am in my usual position of R.I.C.E. (rest, ice, compression and elevation...) trying to get the swelling down. It's been so long since I've had the freedom to slip on some running shoes and sprint around outside for miles and miles and it energized me, not discouraged me. I've missed trail running the way some people miss an ex-boyfriend or a pet that's passed on. That's the way I've missed the white trail at Percy Warner Park.

There were many moments of frustration during these last four years. Moments of 'why' and trying to find purpose in such a thing as a knee injury from doing my job. God's sovereignty doesn't really cross your mind when you're spending all your time over analyzing why you don't deserve trials and how you're going to 'fix' it.

About a mile from my house is a track I ran on in high school frequently. It's where the regional championship was held and holds a plethora of memories for me. Surrounding the perimeter of the property is a wood chip track where people come to jog and walk their dogs. The track is fenced in but is still visible from the wee trail.


More Microsoft Paint Awesomeness



Hubbell and I go there a couple of times a week and walk/jog around it depending on the pain radiating from my right knee. Many days it feels like an exercise in futility as I go round and round a place that used to be a territory of accomplishment-a visual reminder of my weakness.

Last week as Hubbell and I lapped the trail, my iPod clipped through the usual roster: My Morning Jacket, REM, Jump, Little Children, Florence and the Machine, Queen, Ryan Adams...and then u2's "Walk On" geared up. I know it's incredibly cheesy, but there was something about this run with that weather with that song that was purely inspirational. Looking through the chain link fence at a track where a few years ago I was strong and now being weak, it was liberating to have that playing as background music. The message of pushing through trials in faith is valued-whether that race of faith is a walk or a run. It reminded me of II Corinthians 12:9-10 where Paul boasts in his weakness, so that Christ's strength may shine through, giving glory to Christ and to Christ alone.

I read a devotional recently about this relationship between our short comings and God's power by A.B. Simpson. Here it is:

"And being absolutley certain that whatever promise He is bound by, He is able to make good" (Rom. 4:20)

'We are told that Abraham could look at his own body and consider it as good as dead without being discouraged, because he was not looking at himself but at the Almighty One.

He did not stagger at the promise, but stood straight up unbending beneath his might load of blessing; and instead of growing weak he waxed strong in the faith, grew more robust, the more difficulties became apparent, glorifying God through His very sufficiency and being ''fully persuaded that he who had promised was'' not merely able but as it literally means ''abundantly able'', munificently able, able with an infinite surplus of resources to perform.

He is the God of boundless resources. The only limit is in us. Our asking, our thinking, our praying are too small; our expectations are too limited. He is trying to lift us up to a higher conception, and lure us on to a mightier expectation and appropriation. Oh, shall we put Him in derision? There is no limit to what we may ask and expect of our glorious El Shaddai; and there is but one measure here given for His blessing, and that is ''according to the power that worketh in us''.

That's all for today. Be encouraged in your trials-it's not your strength that will get you through it. It's God's promise of goodness. So just keep on walkin' in that promise.

Blessings,

KB

P.S. I think it goes without saying that today I'm spinning u2.

Death Star

I used to be a runner. Past tense. Ran track. Ran cross country. Won some big races and lost some big races. Running aired more on the side of love for me in the 'love/hate' relationship most people find with it. Even before the age of the iPod, I loved escaping out on a trail and getting lost in my head. Then the iPod showed up and married my love of three things: running, being outside and music. It was a polygamous relationship.

This aspect of my life came to a very abrupt stop in July of 2007. At the time I was training for a mini triathlon and was finding great joy in returning from a hard run in the Tennessee heat. There is such great satisfaction in being exhausted with purpose.



Would you like to try cheese on that?

 After one such run, I hurried from training to my job at the time: skating carhop at Sonic. Here's some interesting economics: made more money as a carhop at Sonic than as a bedside nurse in an ICU. If only people could tip their nurses...

This evening at work started no differently than any other. I went to work, laced up my skates, and put my smile on. About an hour into my shift, an incident happened that would prove to rob me of much joy for years to come. A large truck, and I mean a LARGE truck-think a Ford F-950, something with a a hemi for its hemi, a machine capable of derailing a train kind of large-pulled into a stall and just forgot to come to a complete stop. And hit me.




Death Star on wheels

Nope. This is a Death Star on wheels:

If you ever find yourself in this wager: "who do you think would win in a fight: a skating carhop or the Death Star on wheels?" Go with your instincts and put your money on the Death Star.



An unlikely scenario





This sucked. There's really no eloquent way to express it. It just sucked. That encounter tore my knee up something awful. My race that I had trained so hard for was out of the question. Spent months in a knee brace that claimed half the territory of my right leg and became a connoisseur of physical therapy exercises. Props to physical therapists every where: your profession is amazing. Thank you.

There are life lessons I learned from this comical injury. Another blog, another day. Probably tomorrow.

Blessings,

KB

P.S. I'm admitting that I've been listening to Men Without Hats today. S-A-F-E-T-Y....