A Promise to Breathe

“What are you going to write about this week?” asked Cyndi. She was taking my happy birthday peach cobbler out of the oven (I’m not a cake man (the cobbler was amazing)). “I don’t know yet. I’m at a loss. And forgot today was Wednesday and my piece is due tomorrow.”

“What do you think I should write about?” I asked.

“Just don’t write about the lowering-your-pulse-contest-with-yourself you had in post-op. Nobody wants to hear about that.”

Before my surgery last week I assumed this slowed-down recovery time would be rich with insights and ideas. But the truth is, my journal - where I write daily - is surprisingly thin lately. Most of what I’ve written is about rehab exercises and medication and daily details. I anticipated more. I’d hoped to be more productive.

Cyndi pulled out her iPad and read this poem to me by Danna Faulds:

It only takes a reminder to breathe,

a moment to be still, and just like that,

something in me settles, softens, makes

space for imperfection. The harsh voice

of judgement drops to a whisper and I

remember again that life isn’t a rely

race; that we all will cross the finish

line; that waking up to life is what we 

were born for. As many times as I 

forget, to catch myself charging forward

without even knowing where I am going,

that many times I can make the choice

to stop, to breathe, and be, and walk

slowly into the mystery.

“It only takes a reminder to breathe, a moment to be still, and something in me settles.” Those are good words. As she read, my mind traveled back to a morning in the Guadalupe Mountains, at the junction of Tejas and Juniper Trails, when I sat on a fallen log planning to spend some time writing in my journal, but instead, I simply sat still and breathed and listened for a half hour and allowed the sounds of the forest to soak into my heart.

The significance of the moment surprised me. I am so process-driven in most of my life I seldom stop and listen just to stop and listen. It turned out that “doing nothing” was important to this “doing stuff” guy.

I told Cyndi, after she finished reading the poem, “That trail junction, sitting and breathing, became a thin spot for me. I stop and sit every time I hike past that fallen log.”

So what does that tell me about surgery rehab? Will it be one of my thin places if I’m prepared to slow down, sit, and breathe? How can I make this time as productive as I’d imagined?

For the past three months I’ve been looking forward to knee replacement surgery, or more accurately, to my new life on the other side. It’s hard to be patient and let the healing take place. I want to heal faster. I’m ready to be back on the trail.

Sit and breathe and wait.

I am so in love with the idea of a lifelong search for God, which for me is an active process, I forget about silence and listening.

So here is my challenge to myself for this summer. I will continue to work hard at rehab and recovery, but I’m determined to listen and breathe, not try to force the insights or plan good writing.

Sit and breathe and wait.

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32

 I need your help. If you enjoyed reading this, please share with your friends. You can find more of my writing on my weekly blog, read insights on Tumblr, and follow me on Twitter and Facebook.

Time for Restoration

Let me just say right up front: I’m having knee surgery next week and I can’t concentrate on much of anything else. Actually, it’s knee replacement, the first of two. And they tell me I’ll be home-bound for three weeks after each one. Counting the minimal interval between knees, I’ll be on injured reserve until September.

People ask if I’m nervous about it and my consistent answer is “no.” I don’t feel nervous, but the fact that it takes up a significant amount of my mental RAM tells a different story. It’s been hard for me to concentrate on normal projects, like paying bills, daily writing, cycling, and paying attention to Cyndi.

Not only that, but Cyndi gave me my Father’s Day / Birthday gift early – a Big Green Egg grill – and it’s even been hard to engage with that. Hard to see through the fog of distraction.

Usually when I get nervous about something my first defense is to start making lists … lists of things to do beforehand, lists of things to take with me, lists of things to consider and think about, and lists of projects to do afterward, and like that. A list is a plan of action, and having a plan to follow is more satisfying than fretting over what I might be forgetting. In fact, having a list in my hand relaxes me. A list lets my brain floaters settle. I know what to do next, I don’t have to keep guessing.

But my list for this surgery consists of only two items: (1) show up at the hospital on Wednesday, and (2) see what comes next. That isn’t enough list for me. I need more. It isn’t satisfying or soothing.

Don’t misunderstand my apprehension. I’m looking forward to this surgery. Or rather, looking forward to life on the other side. I’m ready for restoration, ready to get moving again, ready to stop limping, ready to go to the mountain trails again with my guys, ready to chase God into The Bowl, ready to go on walks with Cyndi, ready to play with granddaughters without my knees being my first concern.

I’ve already been invited to join the Senior Cycling Group that owns the highway on Saturday mornings. “We have several artificial joints,” was what I heard them say.

We just vacationed in Italy, where I calculated I spent 35 hours on my knees over five days. It was brutal by the end of each day, but I decided I could recover and heal when we got home … I didn’t want to miss out on anything. The trip proved to me that I could do more than I thought, especially when doing it with great friends. It also confirmed that knee replacement was the right thing to do. I’m looking forward to many more trips like this one, with less pain.

I’m not complaining - I’m doing what writers do – I’m settling in, and finding my way, by putting thoughts on paper. Nowadays I’m more comfortable with winging my way through the near future than I used to be, but the idea of eight weeks of improvisation is stretching my newfound flexibility. I wish I had a better list.

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32

I need your help. If you enjoyed reading this, please share with your friends. You can find more of my writing on my weekly blog, read insights on Tumblr, and follow me on Twitter and Facebook.

A Close Encounter in Assisi

“The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.” (Marcel Proust) One of our favorite stops in Italy was Assisi, home of St. Francis. It was built on the slope of Mount Subasio and surrounded by a protective wall, and it is very old. Roman ruins have been found dating back to 295 BC. And so, all the streets are very narrow and winding, built for pedestrians and horses, not automobiles.

The first place we visited was the Cathedral Church of St. Rufino, named for the bishop who converted Assisi to Christianity in 238 AD. St. Francis was baptized in this church 1182, and preached there often during his adult years.

Next, we descended a small steeply-sloping street (take it from a man with bad knees, Italy is one sloping street after another) to the Chiesa Nuovo (“New Church,” built in 1615) which was built over the childhood home of St. Francis.

After lunch we descended (again) to the Basilica of St. Francis, the mother church of the Franciscan Order. It actually consists of two churches, one above the other. And below both of them is a small chapel containing the tomb of St. Francis. We spent time in the upper churches admiring the medieval frescoes; it was very cool to realize pilgrims have been coming here to worship for 400 years.

But my moment came in the chapel containing St. Francis’ tomb. We sat for a bit on the benches; my intention was simply to rest my knees, but as I sat and gazed at the tomb I was overwhelmed. I suppose it came over me all at once, the reminder that one man with a heart to know God can gather like-minded companions, and literally change the world.

I prayed, “Lord, give me a life to give away, that will draw men to Jesus, who will in turn change the world for Christ.”

Behind the tomb was a stack of paper that you could use to write a prayer to St. Francis. I wasn’t interested in praying to a man, even if he was called a saint, but I wanted to reinforce the moment, so I wrote out my prayer and put it in the box.

It was a powerful moment, and caught me off guard. I shouldn’t have been surprised, since God often ambushes me in places like this. Thomas Merton said he was drawn to sacred sites, not because he knew the places, but because he believed the places knew him. Well said.

How about you? Have you been pulled in closer to God through history and architecture? What is your story?

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32

I need your help. If you enjoyed reading this, please share with your friends. You can find more of my writing on my weekly blog, read insights on Tumblr, and follow me on Twitter and Facebook.

When in Rome

Do you like to plan your vacations, or would you rather improvise and discover as you go? Me – I’m a planner, and I seldom take a trip without a list and a spreadsheet. But as I carry out my plans it’s usually the adhoc experiences that I talk most about when I get home. During our recent trip to Tuscany and Rome we visited the Villa de Piazzano, Cortona, Montalchino, Sant’Angelo in Colle, Actesino winery, Santa Croce Cathedral, Saint Mary of the Flowers Basilica, Arezzo, Parco il Prato, Fortezza Medicea (more than one of these), lots of piazzas, Assisi, Cathedral of St. Rufino, Basilica of St. Chiara, Chiesa Nuovo, Basilica St. Francis, Chiesa di San Pietro, Spanish Steps, Fontana di Trevi (but it had no water), Titus’ Arch, The Forum, The Imperial Palace, Palantine Hill, The Colosseum, the Vatican art gallery, the Sistine Chapel, St. Peter’s Basilica, and well, lots more.

Writers much better than me have described all the places I mentioned better than I can, so I’m going to write about food. And since I can’t write about all the amazing food we ate, I’m going to write one Friday afternoon in Rome.

Our guide’s name was Anastasia Bizzarri, a Rome native who alternates her time between Italy and Florida. She wanted to take us away from “all the tourist food” in central Rome, so we went to a neighborhood called Testaccio. It was full and lively, and obviously preparing for some sort of weekend festival. We ducked into a small but modern restaurant called Trapizzino, named after their specialty - triangular-shaped “sandwiches” that could be carried around and eaten on the move - Roman street food. They were made from thick Roman pizza crust (more like sourdough bread) stuffed with a variety of “stews.” I had one stuffed with chicken cacciatore and another stuffed with some sort of spicy beef. They were wonderful, and as Cyndi and I stared at each other with our mouths too full to talk, we were both thinking the same thing – how can we make these back home.

Then Anastasia lead us to the Testaccio Market to sample cheese. Most of the shops had closed for the day except for one cheese stall and one meat stall. We skipped the meat since it was mostly internal organs and other parts of the animal kingdom we preferred to avoid, but the cheese was excellent. We ate fresh Ricotta, which Anastasia said was especially good in Cappuccino, and a yogurt-like cheese called Stracchino.

The only reason we didn’t set up our camp in the market and eat cheese the rest of the evening was the promise of gelato. (Actually, Anastasia promised gelato that was so good we’d never be satisfied with any other … a mixed blessing, I’d say.)

She took us across the Tiber River into the neighborhood where she grew up, to her favorite gelato place, La Gourmandise Gelateria, owned by a Jim Croce lookalike. As it turned out, all her bragging was spot on. This was the best gelato ever.

I had Madagascar Vanilla, Italian Pistachio, and Pear Crumble. I also tasted, from Cyndi and Anastasia, Apple & Sage (which was everyone’s favorite), and Saffron & Walnut. It was so unbelievably good, for once I was happy to have only a tiny spoon to eat it with … I wanted the experience to last as long as possible

The truth is I probably fill my life with too many certainties. I need more improvisation. I need to try more new things. If I can only figure how to add them to my spreadsheets.

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32

I need your help. If you enjoyed reading this, please share with your friends. You can find more of my writing on my weekly blog, read insights on Tumblr, and follow me on Twitter and Facebook.

How Big

Do you have gifts and talents that you underestimate? The answer is: Yes, you do. We all do. We typically don’t recognize or understand our most powerful talents on our own, we need to hear from friends and family. In fact, it is unlikely we’ll ever understand our calling or purpose without the advice and counsel from people who are close around us. But we get glimpses, and for me that often comes through music or movies.

Cyndi and I often watch a movie in the evening while working on stuff (like family finances, writing the next book, managing a mobile home park, running a yoga studio, etc.) We tend to pick movies we’ve seen many times so we can follow along without being distracted by a story we don’t already know. And much to nephew Kevin’s dismay, when he is with us, as he often is, we typically choose non-exploding non-fighting movies.

This week we watched August Rush again. I’ve now seen this movie many times since my first viewing at a Wild at Heart Advanced Camp in May 2008, where it changed almost everything about my life, so I didn’t expect it to affect me in the same way as it has in the past. I supposed I’d built up some immunity.

I was wrong. The movie nailed me, once again, and I had to go sit by myself in my closet (I have a rocking chair in there) and absorb the message. Specifically, I internalized what God was saying to me before I let it get away.

There are a lot of movies that dig emotional responses out of me - no, that’s too weak a statement - there a lot of movies that make me cry. And each year the list of movies gets longer, either because I’m better at picking out movies, or because I’m getting softer. August Rush is one of those; it slips past the bare patch of my armored chest like Bard’s black arrow and sticks directly into my heart.

The movie is about a young orphaned boy named August Rush, a musical prodigy, who uses music to reach out to the parents he hopes to find. Only, when I watch it, it isn’t about music, but about writing and teaching.

In the movie, when a man asks August, “What do you want to be?” he answers with one word, “Found.” Not being lost is profound, and watching this movie helps me realize it’s my job to find people and lead them on the trail so they won’t be lost.

But the scene that penetrates my armor is when the head of a music conservatory asks young August, “Where does the music come from?” He answers, “It’s like someone is calling out to me. Writing it all down is like I’m calling back to them.” This is exactly what writing feels like to me.

Wednesday night after the movie finished I sat in my rocking chair with tears rolling down my cheeks, praying, again, “I’m sorry, I don’t know how big it is.”

“I’m sorry I continually underestimate what You’ve given to me. Because I don’t speak to big crowds or sell tons of books or have thousands of readers I underestimate the gift, and the result. Thank You for giving me so many turns, Thank You for lighting the fire inside to teach and write and give away and improve. Thank you for sharing insights and connections. I want to give them back to You.”

Here’s the thing. None of us understands our own influence. None of us knows how big it is because we don’t pay attention to the same things God pays attention to. We don’t notice the same results God sees. We don’t see hearts the same way God does – we are stuck in this present day and God sees the long-term benefit. All we can know is that we aren’t the heroes of our own stories, no matter how big. The heroes are the people who respond, who stand up and step forward, and we are simply lucky to be part of that.

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32

I need your help. If you enjoyed reading this, please share with your friends. You can find more of my writing on my weekly blog, read insights on Tumblr, and follow me on Twitter and Facebook.

Can You Dig It?

What first captured your heart and opened your eyes to the world of art, music, and transcendence? Who was the first to ignite your artist soul? For me it was a rock band: Chicago. Hearing their music literally changed my life in 1971. I would not be a musician today if they hadn’t happened to me. And this week I was fortunate to hear them play again, in Midland, at the Wagner Noel Performing Arts Center.

I was 15-years-old when I discovered Chicago, and their Chicago Transit Authority album was one of the first things I bought with my own money. Within a couple of months I’d cobbled together enough cash to buy Chicago II and III. I was hooked. I was in deep.

If you’d’ve told me then those same guys would still be playing rock-and-roll when they were 70-years-old I would’ve laughed. How silly. And yet, now it’s my life goal to enjoy what I do as much as they enjoy performing, all the way to the end of my life, just like them.

The music we love reveals how old we are. It’s better than carbon dating; better than clothes, hairstyles, poetry, newspapers, or sports. Maybe because at that time in our life we were full of searching and exploration, and the first musical sounds we heard imprinted on our souls like a mother duck imprints on her ducklings. What we heard during that window of opportunity never leaves.

One March evening in 2001 my brother called me on the telephone and told me to turn the TV to VH-1. “Which channel is VH-1?” While he was laughing at my cultural ineptness, my teenaged daughter came to the rescue by calling out "channel 40." It was a "Behind the Music" special about Chicago. Carroll said, "My gift to you," and he hung up his phone.

I couldn’t believe it. I dragged my rocking chair in front of the TV and camped out for the next hour. Cyndi smiled at me because she knew I was gone for a while. Even Katie noticed the change. "Wow!” she said. “Dad put down his book just to watch TV."

I’m not a huge fan of Chicago’s power ballads from the 1980s. In my opinion, almost any other band could have recorded those same songs and had big hits. What I love most, and what makes Chicago unique, is their integration of horns with guitars, keyboards, and percussion … not as background accompaniment, but as primary drivers. Jimi Hendrix once said Chicago’s horns were like an “extra set of lungs.”

I have to say that the volume Tuesday night was too loud, excessively loud, even for a rock concert. So loud it masked the subtleties of the music, and I was sad I missed some of my favorite parts. But still, I loved it. I knew all the songs anyway.

Here’s the thing: I’m not really writing about Chicago; I’m writing about the power of music. I’m writing about how some things latch on to your soul so that you wallow in it for decades. Maybe for you it was soccer, or dance, or math, or mountains, or the beach. For me it was music, and Chicago made it happen.

Week after week I write about God, running, cycling, backpacking, spiritual growth, family, music, and loving Cyndi. And the truth is, I can’t separate those topics. They are woven together and I don’t care to cut them apart.

I went to the Tuesday concert, not just to hear the same songs I can listen to any time I want, but to reinforce a 44-year-old life-changing experience that still influences me every day. Music is one of our tightest family ties. Music is one of my deepest spiritual truths. I don’t want to let that slip away.

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32

I need your help. If you enjoyed reading this, please share with your friends. You can find more of my writing on my weekly blog, read insights on Tumblr, and follow me on Twitter and Facebook.

Navigating a Deeper Life

Are you a good navigator? Or are you the sort who gets lost often? My wife, Cyndi, has a much better intuitive sense of direction than I do. I need more than intuition, I need maps. I am a map guy.

Which brings me to an article I read in Backpacker Magazine titled “Navigate Like a Pro.” The article contains tips to keep from getting lost in the wilderness, but their advice is more fundamental than mere backpacking. They tapped into deeper ideas that help us navigate closer to God.

The article, from the May 2015 issue, features advice from Liz Thomas, a long-distance backpacker who holds the women’s unsupported speed record on the Appalachian Trail (80 days). Here’s what she says we need to do to keep from getting lost.

(1) “Keep your mind and body sharp. It’s really hard to navigate if you’re hungry, thirsty, or cold. An unfueled brain is more likely to make poor decisions.”

We all make bad decisions when we’re exhausted. We speak when we shouldn’t, pick fights we should’ve left alone, and repeat the same mistakes over and over. Unfortunately, we live in a time when exhaustion is a point of pride. Too often we plan our days all the way to the edges, leaving no margin for change or adaptation, feeling like lazy slackers when we aren’t constantly busy and rushed.

But according to Dr. Christine Carter, author of “The Sweet Spot,” there is plenty of research to show that people who are able to sustain high performance don’t let themselves get busy. Moreover, their not-busyness makes them much more productive than average. Living full speed, 24/7, reduces our ability to make good decisions and increases the likelihood we’ll get lost.

(2) “Confirm your location on your map often. This sounds obvious, but this is the single best way to prevent wandering off course. I always hike with a map in my hand or in my pocket.”

The biggest and worst mistakes I’ve made in my life have happened when I moved on my own initiative without asking advice. I put too much confidence on my own intelligence and cleverness, took off on tangents, and ended up solving the wrong problem or missing the heart of the business deal. To be effective, to stay on the correct trail, to avoid getting lost, we have to check in often, tag up, ask opinions, show unfinished work to people we respect, listen to feedback, be willing to stop, reevaluate, and adapt.

(3) “Learn to read contour lines. GPS units are great, but you still need to be able to read a map. That means understanding how contour lines represent real-world terrain.”

The problem with using a GPS is you never see the big picture. They are great for taking you to a specific location, but not so great for learning the overall lay of the land, or what you can expect just past the edges of the screen.

Too often we live out our spiritual lives as if using a GPS. We read only books by Christian authors, listen only to Christian music, tune in only to sermons. We get excellent advice and directions for specific problems, but miss the opportunity to know and understand the bigger world that lies just beyond the edges.

In 1 Chronicles 12, the historian makes a list of all the tribes who were lining up behind King David. Verse 32 tells about the tribe of Issachar, who “understood the times and knew what Israel should do.” We want to be people like that. Learning to read the contour lines of our world gives us better knowledge of what to do and where to go.

(4) “Learn the difference between true north and magnetic north. The difference is called declination; it changes over time, and it varies according to your location.”

The best way to stay tuned to true north in life is to read your Bible on a consistent basis. Read it cover-to-cover, over and over. Reading other books is important, but opinions change over time and vary according to location. Keep returning to true north. Keep reading the source code. Stay in your Bible.

(5) “Think like a railroad engineer. When traveling cross country, observe the landscape and choose the path of least resistance.”

Sometimes we make following God too hard. We fret over signs and open doors when God wants us to follow our heart. Often, the path that feels right, is the right path.

(6) “Avoid shortcuts. Not only does cutting switchbacks or taking short cuts cause erosion, but it’s also an easy way to get lost.”

In the Guadalupe Mountains where I do most of my hiking, cutting switchbacks is a good way to lose your footing and slide 3,000’ down to the desert floor. Don’t do it.

When we start to get indications about our calling, we often want to jump before we’re ready. Take your time; let God train you; allow him to build the skillsets in your life; don’t rush ahead taking short cuts. You’ll most likely get lost, and might get hurt.

How about you? Are you a good navigator? Or are you the sort who gets lost often?

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32

I need your help. If you enjoyed reading this, please share with your friends. You can find more of my writing on my weekly blog, read insights on Tumblr, and follow me on Twitter and Facebook.

The Cost of Staying Safe

It’s not a simple question to ask which parts of ourselves we should hang on to and which parts we should leave behind. If we throw away the best parts of our core personality we risk becoming someone we hate, but if we hang on because “that’s just who I am,” we risk remaining jerks for the rest of our lives. I started thinking about this last week while reading from my Daily Chronological Bible, about a time when King David was nearly killed in a battle with the Philistines, and says, “Then David’s men swore to him, saying, “Never again will you go out with us to battle, so that the lamp of Israel will not be extinguished.” (2 Samuel 21:17)

The story reminded me of the movie, Air Force One, in which Harrison Ford plays President James Marshal. In the movie, the president’s airplane was hijacked while he and his family were on board, following a controversial speech where he vowed never again to negotiate with terrorists. The Secret Service tried to rescue the President by shoving him into an escape pod, but when the pod was located and opened, it was empty. The President, a former marine and Medal of Honor winner, had sneaked out of the pod just before it dropped, in order to protect his wife and daughter.

Back in The Situation room in Washington D.C. they were furious that the President wasted his opportunity to escape. The Vice President said, “He’s taking a terrible chance with his life. He has no right to take chances with his life.”

She believed he had a responsibility to the nation as a whole that superseded his wishes as a husband and a father. It was his obligation as President and his duty to the American people to stay safe and survive.

The Vice President’s desire was similar to that of King David’s men when they told him it was his duty to stay safe. “You are the lamp of Israel and you will not be extinguished. You owe it to us and to your country to stay home.”

But by insisting that David, a mighty warrior, take the safe route and stay home, they were asking him to give up a defining characteristic of his life.

It’s not a simple question to ask which parts of ourselves we should hang on to and which parts we should leave behind. Both stories speak to the conflict between two of the primary needs in a man’s life. Men need a battle to fight and they need to be part of a larger story.

Both President Marshal and King David knew their place: their importance to their countries, to the future and wellbeing of their people, and to the message and mission that had carried them into leadership. Risking their life was a needless threat to their important roles in their big world stories, but to sit down and expect other men to risk death and injury on their behalf ran counter to their own personal need to be in the battle.

Unfortunately, King David followed his soldier’s advice and stayed home during the next season of war. The Bible says, “In the spring, at the time when kings go off to war … David remained in Jerusalem.” (2 Samuel 11:1, (which appears in the text before the other story, but probably took place later in time))

This is a prelude to the tragic story of David’s affair with Bathsheba, which resulted in the murder of Bathsheba’s husband, the death of their baby, and the near spiritual destruction of David.

I wonder if his adultery with Bathsheba was an attempt to fill the hole in his heart left when he stayed safe and stayed home. Did he exchange one real adventure with another pathetic one?

I’m not making excuses for David’s adultery and murder. I’m calling him out. He should have told his army he would go to battle anyway, even if dangerous, because he was called by God as a warrior king. But he caved. He took the safe way. He took the easy way. And both David and the nation paid a heavy price because of it.

We can force men out of the battle, but we lose more than we gain. To make a man remove all risk from his life is to carve away part of his heart, and we’ll end up with less of a man. We’ll lose much more than we know.

QUESTION: Are you staying so safe that you’ve lost important relationships, habits, dreams, or moral direction?

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32

I need your help. If you enjoyed reading this, please share with your friends. You can find more of my writing on my weekly blog, read insights on Tumblr, and follow me on Twitter and Facebook.

A High Tolerance

“The good news is, you obviously have a high tolerance for pain,” said the orthopedic surgeon last Friday. I was happy he said it in front of my wife, Cyndi; anything that makes me look strong and manly in her eyes is a winner. He said it while analyzing my X-rays and calculating the angles of displacement in my knees. “The bad news is, also, that you have a high tolerance for pain. You’ve let this go on long enough.”

“Your left knee needs replacing; your right knee needed replacing now, as soon as possible, before the angle worsens and the ligament is stretched beyond easy repair.”

It’s comforting, actually, to get an authentic diagnosis from a professional based on real data, even when the result is surgery. It answers the questions in my head: Am I making this up? Do everyone’s knees feel like this and I’m just being a wuss about it?

The doctor gave his practiced speech with all the reasons why I should consider total knee replacement until he figured out I was already on board. In fact, I wouldn’t have been in his office if I hadn’t already committed to that plan. My worst case scenario heading into Friday was that he would send me home to come back next year.

We set an appointment for right knee replacement on June 24, and left knee replacement on July 22. Before then I have to see a physical therapist for a couple of times, and also get a CT scan so they can build a custom 3-D printed knee. How cool is that!

Needless to say, I won’t be riding the MS150 this summer. I don’t know about cycling in Ft. Davis for Cyclefest. I have no idea how quickly I can be back on my bike or putting in real miles.

However, don’t take that as a complaint. I’m ready for this next phase of life (knowing full well none of us are ever as ready as we think). I’m ready to discard what isn’t working and replace with something new. Living life means constantly shedding what we don’t need and accumulating what’s next. We learn new things and unlearn old things, embrace ideas for the future and shed artifacts from the past. We are constantly churning, usually ideas and practices, but occasionally body parts.

Here’s the thing: What haunted me after the doctor visit actually had nothing to do with knees. I wondered how often my “high tolerance for pain” caused problems. Maybe when I pretend to be tolerating pain I am simply avoiding confrontation, or glossing over serious problems. How often do I wait too long to fix something, hoping it will get better on its own?

There is more to tolerating than I first thought. At least I’ll have several weeks of recovering from surgery to think more about it.

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32

I need your help. If you enjoyed reading this, please share with your friends. You can find more of my writing on my weekly blog, read insights on Tumblr, and follow me on Twitter and Facebook.

Hope Dwells in Chaos

How many times have you heard or said, “I only wish things could return to normal.” As if there was such a time. As if there is such a thing as normal.

Yesterday I mistimed my elevator ride from the 19^th-floor to the basement, meaning instead of a peaceful quiet solitary ride all the way down we stopped four times to take on people. And to be honest, there was one gentleman already inside the elevator when I got in, so he had to stop five times. I interrupted his day.

If you hear someone joke that “no one in elevators talks to each other they just stare at the numbers” you are listening to a refugee from the 1990s. Nowadays everyone looks at their phone. Or, in the case of my building, they look out the elevator window to see what sort of weather awaits us outside.

But yesterday was different. For some reason, the elevator passengers started talking about how much they could’ve accomplished during the day if it weren’t for the interruptions. It was true for me as well. I had a long term study I hoped to make progress with, a temporary gas compressor installation south of Ozona and were we really making any money on the project, but I received a couple of emails from the home office that changed my day and my priority list. I didn’t get any work done on my original project.

But as I listened to the playful complaining on the elevator it occurred to me that the disruptions I worked on were more important, and solving them was more fruitful to the company. On my long trek to the parking garage I wondered: If it weren’t for interruptions would I even accomplish anything of significance?

Leonard Sweet wrote, “We should prize chaos more than order. Only chaos brings forth new ideas, new experiences, and new energies, because only chaos is open and receiving, ready for change.” (What Matters Most)

One of my favorite chapters from the Bible is Mark 5, and it tells about a series of interruptions woven together that made up Jesus’ day. Reading that chapter is a reminder that if it weren’t for interruptions we wouldn’t know much about Jesus actual ministry with people. The gospel writers didn’t write about day-to-day teaching, but wrote about the chaos that followed Jesus everywhere he went.

It has become a favorite phrase of mine, that “change adds energy,” and I rattle it off as if I have always known the truth of it, but it has taken most of my life to learn to stop resisting sudden changes to my perfect life plans.

Don’t get me wrong; I don’t wallow in chaos. I don’t seek messes and I certainly don’t plan my life that way. In fact, I am always trying to sort through the chaos and find meaning, beat down the mess to find the true story, untangle the situations to locate the lesson that will help us all find our way through.

I also know that constant chaos is debilitating and draining. Even deadening. So we should find places and times for peace and rest if we want our lives to be effective.

It is in those moments of change, the transitions, the chaos, when the danger of making a mistake is the greatest, that we depend, finally, on God. During normal times, whatever that really means, there is no future. There is only more of the same old thing. The future hides in transition. Hopes dwells in the chaos.

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32

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