Miles to go before they sleep

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I’m back in California after a week at home in North Carolina. My husband and I were there to help with a 100-mile race that runs along the trails of beautiful Umstead State Park.

My husband is the captain in charge of the remote aid station on the course—one of two aid stations and the only one without electricity and running water. I help out as needed and also take photographs. Saturday’s weather presented challenges, though, and rain kept me under the aid station tent for longer than I had hoped.

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The creek may have been happy about all the rain, but the runners got tired of it pretty quickly.

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An aid station is a thing of wonder during an ultramarathon, a hive where the full range of emotions can be on display at any given time.

This is probably the most exhausting weekend my husband and I experience each year, but it’s also an amazing testament to the indomitable human spirit (and bodies, too). It has become an annual family reunion of sorts for us, and we look forward to hugging old friends and making new ones with each year’s race.

Though our bodies are crying out for sleep, our minds are busy processing this year’s race and already swirling ahead to what we’ll keep the same and what we’ll do differently at next year’s race.

Because this is the first day back at my computer, it’s my first chance to sit down and do something useful with the 1600+ photographs I took Saturday. I feel like I have miles to go before I sleep, a different sort of miles than the runners faced, but still, a task ahead of me before I can rest.

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… and miles to go before I sleep

I hope you won’t mind if today’s post is shorter than usual. I want to get the photos to the runners as quickly as possible to celebrate their accomplishment, to help them remember fleeting moments of the long race, to honor them for their inspirational efforts.

How about you? What tasks do you have that mean miles to go before you sleep? Are you doing them out of love or necessity (or both)?

When forgiveness feels impossible

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Neighbors had warned me of the dog down the street. Over the past several years, the dog has attacked at least three dogs in the neighborhood. I had hoped my dog and that one might never meet.

Three weeks ago, I was walking my dog before dinner, and suddenly the dog came tearing out of its open garage and into the street. It grabbed my dog’s back leg and then pinned her down and grabbed her throat in its jaws. The attack continued for what felt like forever, but really lasted only a few minutes.

While my dog survived the attack, she was badly wounded and had to have surgery the next morning. She has had complications and numerous vet visits since. She is recovering, probably better than I am. That’s the beauty of dogs. They live in the present moment.

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My sweet pup, healing and enjoying the sunshine (You can see that weeding the yard was not a priority for me during her recovery. Dandelions will take advantage of a neglectful gardner.)

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A virtual Easter basket

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The last two weeks have brought some dark days for me. I’ve struggled with “Love thy neighbor” and the call to forgive. Wrath, fear and sadness have threatened to overwhelm me. Maybe you’ve been going through dark days of your own?

Holy Week marks Jesus’ darkest days but also His greatest triumph. Our messed-up brokenness nailed Christ to the cross but could not keep Him there. God’s grace is stronger than our greatest failings in ourselves and with each other.

Because of that first Easter Sunday, we are heading through the dark with a promise of light and an empty tomb on the other side.

I’ve been clinging to the beauty of Easter and its cheerful celebrations. Growing up, we always dyed Easter eggs and then hunted for them and for baskets full of delightful goodies.

Today, I give you a virtual basket of Easter goodies. There are no dyed eggs or foil-wrapped chocolates, but these Easter colors are vibrant and worth savoring. May they bring a bit of light into whatever darkness you’re facing, and may they remind you of the unconquerable Light in the garden of the empty tomb.

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Peace, blessings and joy to you this Easter, my friends!

After the storms

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“Six of 18,” the cyclist said to me. I nodded, knowing he meant the number of spillways open at the dam we had both stopped to photograph. Until last week, three had been the most spillways I’d ever seen open. When I passed by the dam earlier this week, 10 spillways were open and pouring water into the river.

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An impressive, welcome sight after the long drought

The last two weekends have brought much-needed rain here, but with the rain came winds that broke trees apart, some already drought-dead but others blossoming out for the season.

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Split apart and resting on two other trees

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Fallen across the bike path

Two Sundays ago (before the time changed and I didn’t struggle as much to get up early), I was out before the chainsaws started. I made my way to the river to see it roaring past. It was the highest I’ve seen it.

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Mental health days and March Madness

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By middle school, we already had clearly drawn lines. And on this weekend each year, we’d arrive at school in red, two shades of blue, or, for a very few of us, gold and black. These were the battle colors we claimed for ourselves, not of gangs but of area universities: NC State, Carolina, Duke and Wake Forest.

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The one on the right isn’t exactly Carolina blue, but it’s the closest thing I own to it.

I grew up in a place and time when college basketball took a backseat to nothing, including school. Teachers and students alike eagerly watched those afternoon games.

Friday afternoon of the ACC tournament was a sacred rite of the classroom. We set aside our Bible belt learning of “Love thy neighbor” in exchange for a few days of (mostly) good-natured rivalry. Continue reading →