Hearing the Music

There’s never been a time in my life so far, where running hasn’t helped me focus back on my faith and find solace. The whole physical aspect of it, where the pain and peace work together in rhythm, help me resync myself.  But there have been times where I’ve been burnt out. Or the times where I’m supposed I need to rest because I’ve just come off a long training period. Or the times where I’ve been injured and had to rest.  And it’s in those times when my soul has become restless. When something has been missing.

And in the past few months, I’ve found it again.

My guitar. 

I had forgotten how much playing and singing placed my soul at peace.  Like everything in my life, I am mediocre at guitar… nothing special. But there is something about calloused fingers, picks in my pocket, sheet music spread around my apartment, and the deep, harmonious worship lifted to my Maker that saves me when I need to rest.

I picked it up in high school for the heck of it… but like the mighty guy he is, God had greater plans.  So, my parents bought me the nicest, cheapest starter guitar for Christmas and I started teaching myself to play.

Fast forward two years and I land at ISU where God connects me this awesome djembe playing chick who I now call my best friend. What awesome acoustic nights we had.  That year I also met Casey, pretty much the guy I’ve always looked up too when it comes to playing music. Though he didn’t really know it, he was one of my worship partners. 
Six months later I’m sitting in the campus house messing around with my guitar and in walks Casey, along with a few other friends, with a Martin. Turns out he had gotten together with my other best friend, Cait, and they decided I needed something a little more professional if I was going to be leading worship.

Martin, as I so affectionately call him, had some great memories of worship… whether is was just stripped acoustic or leading, playing was just as much of my heart as running.

But for some reason, I stopped.  I don’t really know why, but I did, and even though I knew something was missing, I couldn’t, for the life of me this past year, manage to pick up and play. Even though I had a reason to play this summer. Cait got married a few weeks ago and wanted me to do her wedding song/worship song. But it was hard at first picking my guitar back up to learn the music.  For the first part of summer, I just played. There was no heart to it. And I struggled.

That is, until Casey stepped back into my life this summer. He was always my inspiration for playing. Probably because I just wanted to be as good as him, or maybe I just wanted to show off to him… either way, not a day goes by now where I don’t pick it up and imprint some calluses into my hands. Playing again, my heart feels peaceful. 
And I feel so blessed and honored to have been a part of Cait’s beautiful day. I should blame her really. She just HAD to ask me to play ;) I stood up there singing about how great our God is and watched in awe at how He had moved in not only her and her now-husband’s lives, but in the lives of all of my friends present that day.

 

I’ve been going to a new church these past few months and finally got up the courage last week to write on my little attendance slip that I’d like to maybe help out with worship.  I’m ready to play again. To learn again. To worship again. And tonight, I saw God move in my life.  I walked into worship practice and I was nervous and shy. The first thing the minister wanted to know is what I do. I’d told him earlier this week that I sing and play and so he invited me to come tonight and practice.  Turns out, they’re looking for a lead guitar player. Someone to have a solid rhythm matched with the vocals and harmonized with the piano. 

I love how God placed a simple ‘ole burgundy guitar in the hands of a seventeen year old gal ready to lead her to a chance to play music for Him.  Even if it is the simplest stuff.

My heart is at peace. Sometimes, all it takes is that simple step of faith because once we do that, once we trust, God equips us and moves mountains. Now I’m just waiting for Casey to get back here so one day, we can worship together again.

 

And Autumn smells like

Leaves.
Because that’s how she knew it.
And it was in the soggy crunch when
she heard ‘sometimes’.

Her midnight run collected the sounds
of the changing season. And the town ignored her. And
the music played once again. And

Love Happens.

Branded

I figured since I made it through my triathlons, and hope to turn into a lifetime hobby, why not seal the reminder deal for myself.

 

So. I was branded.

 

I have had plans since this summer to get a triathlon tattoo after I finished my races, but my plans were to incorporate it with my running tattoo on my foot. However, I decided to be bold and I wanted it to stand alone. I went for the arm.

 

I know. It’s quite visible now, even when I wear Tshirts, but its not like I walk around flexing all the time :) So it’s actually quite hidden. About the only time it will be seen is when I’m working out or wearing shorter sleeves. But I love it.

Someone asked me this week why there, and I replied, “It attests to my strengths and my heart.” By strengths, on a literal level, the tattoo hurt but so does triathloning. And I don’t just have the tattoo to have the tattoo. I have it because I finished the race. I am a triathlete. It shows what I have done, and on a figurative level for me it is what I have been through. The start of my race was the end of a part of my life and the finish line was the beginning of another. And now that’s where I am.  Chasing those finish lines.

I specifically chose my left arm because it’s closest to my heart. After all, we wear wedding bands on the left hand because the Greeks believed there was a vein that ran directly from the third finger to the heart. And triathloning is part of my heart. Its who I am now. Its who I want to be. And its what I want to chase, even if I never win.

It is often hard to explain to others why I I run so much or why I put myself through such hard training and pain, but I find that training and running and finishing simply quiets my soul and fuels my faith. Maybe someday I’ll write a book about it. Until then, I’ll just swim, bike, and run.

And maybe flex every once in awhile. 

Lines of poetry

Oh life. How you sneak up on me.  It has been too long since my thoughts have graced this blog, but it’s because they are too busy gracing essays, and papers, and freshman rubrics. Then there’s that small amount of free I have that tends to be consumed by the gym and training.  Needless to say, some things get pushed to the wayside…I really shouldn’t let it be this.  So my apologies to you faithful readers. I will probably be very few and far between over the next weeks but I’m here, thinking, planning, writing in my head, but never sitting down to type. Maybe Christmas break??  [at some point I NEED to sit down and reflect on my races…]

For your reading pleasure though… I have found a few snippets of time this week to jot down some poetry. I think autumn does that to me.It’s very raw, rough poetry, but still words. 

 

Gardenia

I.

Two twenty-nine and ten random digits pop
up on the screen. She had padded
silently to the windowsill where her Gardenia budded
in the moonlight when the first few notes of
an old ringtone sang from the other room.
She had been praying for someone and so she answered.
You called.
After so long, you called.

II.

We sat and discussed where
I would be next fall. I planned to move
to Pittsburgh for writing, but he looked
at me; his eyes, deep sea green glass, looked at me.
“Can I ask you to stay?”
“Sure”
“Stay.”

III.

Time means nothing in our realm.
Four years adds up to one kiss.

So Simple. Here we are. Here and now, finally now.

 

 

My Life is Poetry

I stepped out of yoga class
into the quiet cool of an autumn day
wearing a white thermal ribbed shirt
and a metallic crimson toned,
safe feeling infused scarf.

I welcome the winter as
a moment sitting, drinking coffee reminds
me that each day passing is a day breathed;
A day lived. So I lift thanks to the Maker who brings
a smile through a steaming mug,

and the coolness which brings me you.