Keep Exploring

As strange as it sounds, I don’t have a list of New Year’s Resolutions this year. It may be the first time in twenty years I haven’t published a list. Not because I’ve been so resolutely successful accomplishing all my past lists that I no longer have anything left to do, but because this is a landmark year for me and it’s put me to reflecting rather than goal setting. In 2016 I will turn 60 and I’m looking forward to it.

When I turned 50 it felt like freedom and release. I said goodbye to all expectations of being cool or hip or fashionable and started crediting my idiosyncrasies as eccentricities. It was great. I was finally living up to my gray hair and beard.

When I turned 40 I finally felt like an adult. (No, that’s not entirely correct. Even today I only feel like an adult about 50-60% of the time. I always think of adults as the men my dad’s generation, whatever age that happens to be.) But at 40 I could no longer hide behind my age. I was old enough to know stuff, old enough to stop blaming behavior on my upbringing, old enough to formulate my own opinions without basing them on some talk radio host or what the guys at work say, old enough to settle into my reading list and read the books I enjoy, old enough to learn new ideas.

When I turned 30, well, that one‘s still a blur in my memory. We had a six-year-old and a three-year-old and dadhood took its toll on my brain cells. The summer of my birthday we moved but didn’t move to California due to a promotion I got and then didn’t get. A few months later I was with my son Byron when he was hit by a car while we were all riding bikes one Saturday afternoon, and it changed my understanding of being a father and spiritual leader. It was the first time in my life I called upon God out of desperation and fear.

The year I turned 20 was my last of three summers touring with Continental Singers as a bass trombonist, and my segue into big-time college life at the University of Oklahoma. It was the beginning of my lifelong journey with personal discipleship, my introduction to daily spiritual practices and teaching, my first experience with leaders who deliberately invested in my life, and my first date with Cyndi Richardson. Little did I know I was starting the adventures that would define the rest of my future.

And so I’ve asked myself, what will it mean to turn 60. I’m not sure, we can only know lasting effects after the passage of time, but I have some ideas.

Last year my daughter, Katie, gave me a red and white patch that says “Keep Exploring.” In the 1970s I would’ve sewn it on my bell-bottomed blue jeans so that everyone else could see it, but this week Cyndi sewed it on my black backpack so that I would see it every day ... a permanent reminder of how I want to live.

The Keep Exploring movement was created by Alex and Bret, two young men from Flower Mound, Texas. Their webpage says this: “Keep Exploring is the simple idea that adventure can be found anywhere. We are trying to be better explorers by seeking out opportunities in everyday life. This is a collaborative movement - Everyone is invited. Start looking for new roads to take, old mountains to climb, and wild food to chew.”

Well, that’s who I want to be. Maybe not the chewing of wild food part, but I want my 60s to be years of exploring new ideas and trails and mountains and techniques and books and movies and relationships and influences and music.

A few Sundays ago I was cycling with my friend, Wes, and we were working through our increasing list of athletic ailments when Wes changed everything by saying: This is the best time of our lives. We’re finally old enough people listen to us. We can really make a difference.

I thought about what he said for a long time. Through the years I’ve been motivated by this thought: If I apply the weight of my life toward the people God has entrusted to me, I can change the world.

But now, as I enter my 60^th year, even that seems too small. I no longer want to merely change the world … I want to change The Future. I am finally old enough, finally weighty enough, to speak truth into hearts and change the future.

And so I suppose I do have a New Year’s Resolution for 2016: Keep Exploring. I hope you’ll join me. Let’s explore together.

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

I need your help. The primary reason people read these articles is because people like you share with friends, so please do. And thank you. Also, you can find more of my writing on my weekly blog, read insights on Tumblr, and follow me on Twitter and Facebook.

Christmas Caroling

I would’ve missed my chance for Christmas caroling this year if not for the hard working musicians at my church who hosted a community carol singing downtown in Centennial Plaza last Sunday night. I thought it was wonderful. The attendance was short of what we’d hoped, but it takes a few iterations to train people how to celebrate, so I hope we keep doing this in the years to come. It is too important let slip away. It was fun to stand in the cold and sing (well, I was actually sitting and playing my trombone with the ensemble, but I think that counts) and sip hot chocolate, next to the giant Christmas tree and lighted decorations. But here is the real reason I loved it. We were singing outside.

Christmas caroling is one of the few moments in our world when adults, especially men, sing aloud outside. Besides the National Anthem at ball games or college fight songs, we seldom sing. That’s not a good way to live.

I was fortunate to grow up with a dad who sang. He was a worship leader in our church and I saw him sing every Sunday, so in my world singing was something grown men did all the time. That’s a big reason why music is still part of my life.

Cyndi and I used to host a Christmas caroling adventure every December for our adult Bible study group. We would hook a flatbed trailer to my pickup and string lights, then fill it with parents and kids and blankets and go caroling around town. We only had time to make three or four stops, but the singing went on even as we drove from place to place. It was usually cold, at least for Texas, but we learned the colder it was the better the kids behaved snuggled under their blankets.

We haven’t gone caroling for the past three years and I am sad about that. I am disappointed in myself for not making it happen. We get so busy and distracted in December, just thinking about doing one more thing can be exhausting. But we should do it anyway. It’s worth the trouble. It is an old tradition that will fade away and be gone in a generation if we don’t keep doing it.

Back when our son and daughter were in high school we used to go caroling with three trombones. People were quite surprised when they opened their doors and found a trombone trio. Even that was a repeat of something we did in high school, when a group of us band kids would go out caroling.

I miss those times. I need another caroling ensemble to play with. I get plenty of opportunities to sing and play carols in church or at home, but caroling has to be outside.

Here’s the thing. If you are reading this and live in Midland and you’d love to go Christmas Caroling (either singing or playing), you have my permission to bug me about it next fall. I don’t want to miss another season.

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

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Coffee and the Future

I’m nervous writing about coffee knowing my serious coffeephile friends who go to great lengths to make the best just roll their eyes at what I drink. But it’s become a topic again in our house since our coffee maker picked a fight with us. When we moved into our new house, seven years ago, one of the first additions was a Keurig single-cup coffee maker. Cyndi and her sister Tanya bought it for me since I seldom drank more than one cup when home, meaning I never wanted to make an entire pot.

The irony is that Cyndi and Tanya used my coffee maker at least 90% of the brews, Cyndi making her tea and Tanya making her coffee. In fact, they wore out that first Keurig before I had consumed 100 cups. That’s a guess, by the way. I didn’t log my cups.

Then they confiscated a Keurig that my dad wasn’t using, and wore it out.

A couple of weeks ago our third Keurig stopped flowing water, and the company agreed to replace it under warranty. Cyndi unpacked the new one – which will make a carafe of coffee as well as one cup – and tried making her tea. She immediately ran into Keurig’s new business model, which is to allow only official K-Cups to be used in their machines. Apparently they decided they were losing too much money with people buying coffee pods anywhere they chose, so they built something similar to Digital Rights Management (DRM) into their new machines. They will only work when the pods are authentic Keurig-brand K-Cups.

I can’t argue with their decision. They’re just trying to stay in business, and it’s the same strategy used by most printer manufacturers. But since their original machines did not have DRM, it now feels offensive and abusive.

Coffee is a big deal. People around the world drink more coffee than any other drink besides water: four hundred billion cups a year. A cup of Starbuck’s costs at least $16 per gallon, or about $672 per barrel. Even at that price, 24% of Starbuck’s customers still visit 16 times a month

Coffee also has nutritional value. Walter Willett, chairman of the department of nutrition at Harvard School of Public Health and a leading investigator of coffee, said, “Coffee is rich in antioxidants – substances in vegetables and fruits that deactivate disease-causing byproducts of the body’s metabolism.” In tests conducted at the University of Scranton in Pennsylvania, “coffee topped the list of foods that are densest in antioxidants, surpassing blueberries, broccoli, and most other produce.” Only chocolate, dried fruits, and dried beans ranked higher.

I wish that I enjoyed coffee more than I do. When I do drink it, I like simple, black coffee, decaf with no additives. (I drink decaf to protect my blood pressure.) I don’t want whipped cream in my coffee, or ice cream, or chocolate, or candy, or mint, or alcohol, or leaves, or foam, or anything else. Even though Cyndi uses our coffee maker (for making tea) significantly more often than I use it (to make coffee), I want it to work well and serve us. I like having the option.

The reason I get weirded out about something like limitations from a coffee maker is because it flags a deeper issue. Keurig is moving in the exact opposite direction from how I want to live the rest of my life. They want to increase limits and restrictions while I want a more open-source future.

Too many men my age load up their lives with rules and opinions and limitations, adding more each year. They have a growing list of ideas and people they complain about, and resist anything new or different.

I don’t want to live that way. I want to shed restrictions, not add more. I want to grow inclusive and not exclusive, generous and not needy, open and not closed, accepting and not combative. I want to embrace new ideas, not attack them.

How about you? What do you think? Maybe we should meet for coffee and talk about it.

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

 I need your help. The primary reason people read these articles is because people like you share with friends, so please do. And thank you. Also, you can find more of my writing on my weekly blog, read insights on Tumblr, and follow me on Twitter and Facebook.

Watering Deep Roots

Last Sunday night we watered those deep roots again, attending a concert in Dallas, “Christmas with Amy Grant and Michael W. Smith.” It was our second time for this annual concert – the last was in the late 1990’s when both our kids were in high school. I don’t remember details of that previous concert so I can’t compare, but what I liked most about this concert was, well, I told Cyndi: This is a very grown-up concert. They aren’t trying to win us over. They’re just singing about what is important to them.

Amy Grant acknowledged the thousands of long-time fans who’ve traveled with her through life’s joys and disasters when she said: We are all here because we’ve logged miles together through music. She sang:

          All of us, travelers, through a given time.

          Who can know what tomorrow holds

          But over the horizon surely you and I will find

          Emmanuel, God with us

During the concert I scribbled on a 3x5 card from my pocket: “We have long threads running through our lives, and when you pull on one of the threads, stories fall out. The best stories - our favorite stories - the stores that paint our values and connections and hopes.

For example: I’ve been hot for the same woman since 1974, in love with her since 1977, and happily married to her since 1979. We were high school friends for three years, but finally discovered each other at a concert in Denton, Texas (the One O’clock Lab Band with guest Bill Watrous). Music has been one of the most trustworthy roots in our lives together ever since. It’s one of the things that binds us together.

Nothing tells the joy of our lives, and the weight of our hearts, like the music that holds us together. Almost every morning, as we get ready for our day, Cyndi and I end up discussing songs and lyrics. It is more than a shared ritual; it’s one of the ways we know each other best. Many of our happiest memories and meaningful conversations were born from sharing music with each other.

I’ve always loved the strength that comes from longevity. It’s the reason I save all our family calendars in a file folder, and keep my running/cycling logs in a binder, and write notes in my Daily Bible, and play the same trombone since 1970. I want those long threads and deep roots that produce a weighty life.

My point is I am blessed to have deep roots in significant things. Even more, I have the privilege to share those same roots with Cyndi. Knowing we have these long, consistent strings brings peace to my life; more than that gives me courage and strength. The fruit of those roots is the obligation to give myself away to my own kids and grandkids, for the sake of their kids and grandkids.

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

I need your help. The primary reason people read these articles is because people like you share with friends, so please do. And thank you. Also, you can find more of my writing on my weekly blog, read insights on Tumblr, and follow me on Twitter and Facebook.

Who Do You Trust?

I remember the first time I used a computer spreadsheet. I remember the color of the room, the lighting, the chair where I was sitting, the direction I was facing (east). It was amazing. I went to engineering school during the final days of the key-punch card era, and computers were not a pleasant experience. We worked for hours punching out our programs, loading them into the card reader, then waiting around for the answers to come spitting out of the printer. Usually, they were mostly error messages.

I assumed my computing days ended with graduation. I thought I’d hand my work to some mysterious computer processing person and they would bring back the answers two days later.

But that day when I was playing with Lotus 2.0 for the first time, I realized I didn’t have to wait for answers. The spreadsheet calculated as fast as I could type. I saw a new future, and it was brilliant. I can still hear the angels singing and see the bright light filling the room.

In the beginning I used my computer as a fancy typewriter, producing prettier reports and clearer writing. Then I used it as a powerful calculator, solving problems and making predictions that would’ve been impossible with graph paper and pencil. Then my computer became my telephone – beginning with email, which allowed me to publish my writing to family and friends, and then to websites, which opened my writing up to strangers, and then to Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, and all that. Social media opened up the greater world to this once cave-dwelling introvert.

Some people complain that social media takes over our lives and replaces old-fashioned face-to-face conversations. Not for me. I wasn’t having those conversations before, I wasn’t talking on the phone (something I still avoid), I wasn’t checking in on people and maintaining relationships. Instead I lived under a rock in my cave and I was happy that way.

But now I have regular digital conversations with people around the world, and I’ve discovered I am even happier.

Until Sunday night when Windows decided to push the November Update to me with no warning. By the time it was finished, I couldn’t find my files, my photos, or my music. And the update appeared to delete my most-used aps, including the entire Microsoft Office Suite (Outlook, Word, Excel, etc.).

It was heartbreaking. Microsoft not only did me harm, they did it with no warning or permission. And they did it with a smile on their face. The screen announced: “You will be happy with the changes.” Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

So I spent two days standing on the ledge deciding what to do next. Should I reinstall Office and hope for the best? Should I do a clean install of Windows 10? Or should I revert to Windows 7 and rest in the peace of a well-known and reliable, if ancient, operating system?

Now this is the point when all my Mac-using friends start firing up their emails to tell me to switch and my problems will be over. I did that already, for a year, and I was never happy during that experiment.

My friend, Vern Hyndman, one of several friends who talked me down off the ledge and convinced me to put away my sharp knives, said, “Whether you go Mac or PC you have to buy into a set of irritations.” He’s right. We find the irritations that we can live with and move forward.

The big question I have to ask through all of this, the big question we all have to ask every day, is this: Who do you trust?

Sometimes the person, or the company, we trust turns on us suddenly and without warning and we are left staring at a stupid message streaming across our screen.

We say we trust God but there’s always that fear that he will delete our favorite aps and leave us standing on the ledge with a restructured and unfamiliar life.

Trusting anyone requires a buy-in on our part; a conscious decision.

How do we learn to trust God? Here are two ways that have worked for me: (1) Pray “Teach me to trust you” every day, and (2) Stay close to godly friends who can pull you back from the edge and steer you back toward God.

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

I need your help. The primary reason people read these articles is because people like you share with friends, so please do. And thank you. Also, you can find more of my writing on my weekly blog, read insights on Tumblr, and follow me on Twitter and Facebook.

Writing Stories

I always hesitate when people ask me what I write about. And since I’m deeply embedded in structural work of my next book, I’m more sensitive to the question than I might be otherwise. It feels too presumptuous to say I write memoir; who writes memoirs except famous or exception people. And since I am not famous, who am I to write one?

Except that the most influential memoirs on my bookshelf are meaningful to me precisely because of the ordinariness of the story rather than the previous fame of the writer. When I read memoirs of famous people, like Martin Short, Steve Martin, or Billy Crystal, I’m searching for insight into creativity, but I never relate personally to the writer.

However, if I read memoir by Cheryl Strayed, Jon Krakauer, Peter Matthiessen, John Lynch, Lane Belden, Lauren Winner, Gordan McDonald, and on and on, I find myself deep into their lives because I can see my story in theirs.

Maybe it’s similar to those Drugs-to-Jesus testimonies I used to hear at youth rallies when I was a teenager. I never related to the stories because the outlandish life of the speaker was so far from my own. But when someone simple, quiet rule-follower, stood up to talk, I listened. I knew that life.

The Bible tells us that “we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago.” (Ephesians 2:10)

Those stories we tell aren’t merely a recounting of random events, but a description of God’s work in our lives. The reason good memoir works is because telling the stories of our life helps others recall their own stories, and it is in that connection that we find common truth, purpose, and meaning.

So why is it so hard for me to identify as a memoir writer? Why do I think I have to earn the title through something besides writing?

Maybe I would feel better saying I write “personal stories,” except I’m not trying to merely tell the story of my life, but find the meaning in all our lives. That motivation springs from one of my core strengths: I see patterns where others simply see complexity. As far back as I can remember I’ve been able to find the story, or joke, buried in the chaos. I believe finding meaning among the clutter is my defining skill as a writer and teacher.

And once I find the story, once I understand the punchline, I am compelled to repeat it to everyone I know. Those of you who spend time around me know this to be true. I can’t keep quiet about what I’ve learned.

So I should get over my reluctance to call myself a memoir writer and just blurt it out. To quote a line from the movie, Chef, “I may not do everything great in my life, but I’m good at this. I manage to touch people’s lives with what I do and I want to share this with you.”

QUESTION: What do you do to touch people’s lives? Write? Cook? Serve? Listen?

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

I need your help. The primary reason people read these articles is because people like you share with friends, so please do. And thank you. Also, you can find more of my writing on my weekly blog, read insights on Tumblr, and follow me on Twitter and Facebook.

Taking the Alternate Route

It a bright and cloudless day, 9:00 AM and 24*F, when I parked the at the Chamisa Trail trailhead on Hyde Park Road. We were in Santa Fe for the week while Cyndi attended a workshop, and I had planned a two-hour hike to judge whether my knees were ready for our Iron Men Guadalupe Peak hike in two weeks. As I gathered my gear and studied the map I noticed there were two mostly-parallel trails. Then I saw a sign reading “Alternate Route More Difficult.” I decided the alternate route was the one for me; after all, this was intended to be a test.

While the regular trail followed the fall line across the face of the mountain the Alternate Route climbed straight up the drainage, meaning there were several steep climbs. I was very careful to keep from slipping and banging my knees. The trail was still covered with snow from yesterday’s storm but I was using trekking poles and they kept me stable on the ice.

For the first thirty minutes my hands were uncomfortable cold, painfully cold, even with my gloves. Still, it was a beautiful morning and an incredible hike. After about 45 minutes I reached a trail junction where the Alternate Route joined the original Chamisa Trail, as well as the Saddleback Trail, which in spite of its name followed a ridge line.

I followed the Saddleback Trail to the southwest for another 15 minutes, sticking to my original plan which was to go out for an hour then return. I wanted to give my knees a good test, but I also wanted to be able to function the rest of the day - two hours seemed realistic.

On the way back toward the trailhead I kept thinking about that sign and the Alternate Route up the mountain. So often we willingly take the Alternate Route More Difficult in our everyday lives, not to make our journey harder but to it significance. We’re not satisfied with a simple easy hike through life, but take on challenging projects day after day.

I thought about how many times I’ve been driving across town to a potentially contentious church council meeting, or another late night Journey Group session, or even chewing over the Bible lesson I’m supposed to teach in two days and wondering where is the handle of the lesson, and wondered what it would be like to live a simpler life.

I remembered one time on the Guadalupe Peak Trail with Paul Ross, just as we finished the opening switchbacks and stopped to drink some water, when one of us said, There must be an easier way to do ministry. We both nodded in agreement even as we both knew neither of us would be satisfied following that easier way.

The alternate route, the more difficult route, the meaningful route, calls out to us. Following our calling is never the easier trail.

I spent years watching my parents live lives fully engaged with other people, giving away their talents and energy, choosing the Alternate Route More Difficult. And now, following that family tradition, I feel a deep-heart calling to help people live deeper lives with God. Even as I long for a simpler life I know I’ll never be happy if I’m not engaged with the Alternate Route.

And so, I’m encouraging you to choose the Alternate Route More Difficult. I’m urging you to find God’s calling on your life and live it out for the benefit of those who are following you. Why? Because that’s the harder way, the way that matters, the way that changes the world.

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Would you like to know more about God’s calling for you? I am hosting a men’s weekend at my house in Midland, April 29 - May 1, with Gary Barkalow from The Noble Heart Ministry. Gary explains and coaches God’s Calling better than anyone, and you don’t want to miss this opportunity. Write to me at berry@stonefoot.org if you are interested and I’ll make sure you’re on my mailing list for more information.

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

I need your help. The primary reason people read these articles is because people like you share with friends, so please do. And thank you. Also, you can find more of my writing on my weekly blog, read insights on Tumblr, and follow me on Twitter and Facebook.

Are You Practicing?

Do you enjoy practicing? As in, music, or dance, or sports … those are the categories I think of most when I hear the word practice. Maybe none of us enjoy practice as much as we enjoy the results. Erwin McManus wrote (in Wide Awake), “You can’t just sit back and hope that the life you long for will simply come to you.” Anything worthwhile is hard work and inconvenient.

When I was in college I fell in with a group of leaders and students that taught the value of spiritual practices. It was what I needed to hear and do, so I joined right it. At the time, for me, that meant scripture memory, bible study, teaching, and group worship.

As I got older my list expanded. To my surprise, running became a spiritual practice even though spiritual pursuit had no bearing on why I started running in the beginning. It’s as if God saw me doing something on a regular basis, in a systematic way, and decided to join me. In my new post knee-replacement era I’m walking instead of running; I expect walking will become a spiritual practice in the same way that running did, but only time will tell. Maybe cycling, also.

And my list of spiritual practices has continued to grow. Most of my hiking and backpacking is in pursuit of God, and I expect to hear from him on the trail.

Writing has certainly become a spiritual practice for me, helping me learn what God is telling me, setting it in my life, allowing me to work out my theology and understanding. Writing also allows me to tell the story and share the lessons I learn. It is in those stories that I see the real work of God.

But there is more to this than modifying our behavior and reshaping our heart. The Apostle Paul wrote: “But I discipline body and make it my slave, so that, after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified.” (I Cor. 9:27, NAS)

What specifically did Paul mean when he said he disciplined his body? I doubt Paul went to weight lifting classes. I think he probably was a runner at some point in his life because he referenced it so often in his writing. He also mentioned boxing in the verses just before these; do you thing he was into boxing? In the NLT translation of the Bible, the verse says, “I discipline my body like an athlete, training it to do what it should.”

We don’t know what disciplines Paul engaged in, but he was a man who believed in spiritual practices.

But even more mysterious than Paul’s workout discipline is this: what did he mean that he would be disqualified?

Disqualified from what? Preaching? Writing? Traveling? Mentoring? Was he afraid he might lose his turn, or people would stop listening, or maybe he’d die too soon?

It’s unsettling that I could be disqualified from teaching because of the way I take care of my physical body. I don’t want to be disqualified because I was too soft or too lazy to treat my body like an athlete, training it to do what it should. So I keep practicing.

Here’s the thing. I’ve learned that if I do the practices: read from my Bible every day, read spiritual books, pray, find time for solitude and searching, share and teach what I’ve learned, memorize and meditate, get around other believers and let them influence me, listen to good teaching and preaching … and all that; well, if I’m true to the practices, the truth comes to me. Through constant practice, Christianity makes sense beyond my rational mind; it makes sense in my heart and soul.

Spiritual practices don’t earn us an audience with God, or mark us as serious disciples, but the process of repetition changes us, changes our heart, changes our motives, and changes our character, to be more like Jesus. Spiritual practices don’t attract God’s attention, but they focuses our own attention toward God.

How about you? What are your regular spiritual practices? How do they help you know and understand God?

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

I need your help. The primary reason people read these articles is because people like you share with friends, so please do. And thank you. Also, you can find more of my writing on my weekly blog, read insights on Tumblr, and follow me on Twitter and Facebook.

Dreaming Again

Yes, I will admit this right up front: I’m dreaming again. My new titanium knees have resurrected my hope of distance and adventure. Since July, I think of my life in two phases … BNK (before new knees) and ANK (after new knees). Not the handiest set of acronyms, I’ll admit, but the delineation is sure to loom large in my life.

Since I’m not supposed to run, at least not yet, I’ve been walking a lot. And I’ve been adding my walking mileage to my run log, the log I’ve kept since 1978. I write down the miles I walked in the same way I used to write down the miles I ran.

I don’t log all of my walking miles – as in, walking around the house or walking down the halls of my office, etc. – but I include miles I walk specifically for walking’s sake. It’s more about intention than frequency or pace.

In October, I walked 30 miles, at about 3 miles a pop, the most I’ve covered in one month since March 2013. In fact, of the 76 miles I’ve logged so far in 2015, 56 have happened in September and October.

This is representative of my new ANK life. I can cover ground again without little or no pain for the first time in about ten years. And even though I’m walking instead of running, my pace isn’t that much slower than my hobbling runs from just a few months ago

Why does this matter? Because it represents my return to dreaming - of long distances, marathons, epic hikes in the mountains, backpacking with my grandchildren, and covering significant ground with my feet. It represents the return of hope to my daily life.

I’ll log another 19 miles in the next couple of weeks, and when I do, it will put me over 37,000 lifetime running/walking miles. I doubt I’ll spend much time celebrating since it’s the sort of landmark that has little appeal to anyone other than the logger. Maybe I’ll have a milkshake.

Here’s the thing. I first started running in May 1978 to win the heart of a girl. I’d just completed my first senior year at the University of Oklahoma when I came home to Hobbs, New Mexico to work as a summer intern for Getty Oil Company. Within my first week home, I realized my well-thought plans for the summer were in trouble: the girl I’d dated the previous summer, who attended New Mexico Junior College in Hobbs, and whom I’d hoped to date again, had been seeing a track-and-field jock during the school year. He was a javelin thrower, of all things. How could I compete for her attention against a guy like that? I needed something besides good grades in college to win her back.

Once I understood my dilemma, I did something uncharacteristic for me - something that shaped the rest of my life. I decided to go for a run. If I had to compete with a jock for the affections of this girl it had to be something physical, and running seemed to be the easiest thing to take up. It was the first voluntary run of my life. In fact, other than an occasional touch football game or church softball game, it was my first voluntary attempt at any sport besides ping pong.

Never did I imagine that running would become instrumental in how I lived my life, how I planned my time, where I traveled for fun and leisure, how I met my friends, and how I ended up serving in local government. The daily dose of being alone on my feet became my best spiritual meditations. I didn’t intend for running to become such an integral part of my life. All I wanted to do on that fateful day in late May 1978, when I put on my shoes and stumbled through three miles, was to win back my girl.

And now, 37 years later, ANK, I’ve already planned a Guadalupe Peak hike in November and a 5K at Thanksgiving. Who knows where hope will take me next.

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

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Making Plans

Yes, I am a planner. I like to plan things out, knowing that plans always change. I’m fully aware well-made plans rarely work out the way you thought they would, but I’d rather have to re-plan on the fly than depend on random luck. Yes, I even plan out vacations. I make a spreadsheet calendar to ensure we have time and opportunity to squeeze in all we want to do. I also include lots of downtime and free time. I’m not trying to stay busy; I’m trying to stay organized.

I enjoyed planning our trip to Italy last May. It was nerve-wracking, for sure, because I didn’t want to make a mess for everyone else, but I loved looking through guide books and maps, looking for places to run or bike, planning what books to take, watching movies to get in the Italian mood. I even loved building my spreadsheet with ideas for each day.

Calendars are great visual presentations of data. They’re like time-maps, and I love maps. I crave the big-picture, high-altitude view of everything. I want to see it all, all at once. As a result, I don’t like calendars that make you turn the page at the end of each month since no one lives their lives like that. I want my calendars to flow, week after week after week, like a continuous river of time, like an endless map.

I’m not alone enjoying the planning process. Psalm 139:16 says, “You saw me before I was born and scheduled each day of my life before I began to breathe. Every day was recorded in your book.”

So God is a planner, a calendar-lover, too. Can’t you picture him holding a calendar in one hand and a pen in another, making entries for our future, all while closely watching each of our complex parts forming up into a baby?

Is that the level of attention God pays to us? It sure seems that way when I read Psalm 139. It sounds very hands-on and detailed.

When I think about our future I’m happy to know God has scheduled every day. He even schedules times when we should stop and rest. Knowing God has taken that level of concern, down to the day-by-day detail, gives us confidence and hope for tomorrow.

At a recent men’s retreat we looked at Ephesians 1:5, which says, “He predestined us for adoption to sonship through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will—.” (NIV)

Typically when reading this verse we skid to a stop at the word “predestined” and start arguing and fighting. But this time we considered the same verse from The Message translation: “What pleasure he took in planning this!” And that’s when I started smiling. I loved the notion that God took great pleasure in planning us.

It made God happy to plan our life, the people he would pull into our circle, the words he would give us to speak and teach and write, the wake we would leave behind. I wonder if God went around showing off his spreadsheet (like I do) because he was so proud of his planning.

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

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