Journal entry 031011: Are you at home?

This week’s journal is more about exploration than about discovery, more dialogue than conclusions. Feel free to dive in with your own insights. I want your help. Post a comment, or write to me at berry@stonefoot.org.

I’ve been working on my next book, which started out being about family life and raising kids and living together and all that, but lately it has taken a turn toward one of my favorite Bible passages, one that Cyndi introduced me to about ten years ago, Ephesians 3:17-19. It’s the closest I have to a life verse. This passage always stirs up questions that I love to consider, over and over.

It begins, “And I pray that Christ will be more and more at home in your heart, living within you as you trust in him.” Here are some of the questions stirring in my head:

What does it mean for Christ to be at home in my heart?

What does it mean for me to be at home in someone else’s heart Is that even possible?

Is home a place, an attitude, a relationship?

How are these words related: home, relationship, and trust?

Can you be at home if your heart isn’t at peace? Maybe that’s a good definition of home - the place where your heart is at peace?

Can you feel at home with someone you don’t trust?

I posed some of these questions on Facebook; here are some of the responses, long with my comments:

“Remember that home is where the heart is.” It’s an old cliché, for sure, but things become clichés for a reason, usually because they are true. Personally, I like the idea that home is where (or when) my heart is at rest; or, my heart finally finds rest and peace when I am at home.

“Your relationship can’t feel like home if there is no trust.” Maybe that’s because we can never relax unless we trust.

“Home is a state of mind, not a place.” Certainly true, yet there are some specific places that feel very much like home to me. (My closet, my pickup, Hunter Peak)

“Commitment is important for trust, and being at home is part of this.”

“Those words - at home - change as one grows. It all depends on where you are in life.” I wonder if home was more place-oriented when I was younger and our life revolved around being in the house with young children?

I remember when I lost my job in 1994 and had to move all my stuff into the garage. Engineers tend to accumulate a lot of books and notebooks and, in those day, graph paper and drafting tools. The thing I missed first was my desk. It was just a lousy ancient gray metal desk with no personality, but I spent a lot of time there for 12 years. I knew where my stuff belonged; I knew what to do next. Without a job, without a desk, without a place to sit and call my own, I was adrift and homeless. Nowadays, however, I am comfortable without an office or a desk. My place is wherever I am.

I don’t mean in the sense of, “Papa was a rolling stone, wherever he laid his hat was his home,” but that my office-home has become more attached to an activity than to a physical location. My office is my laptop, or my journal. I’m pretty sure it will move again someday to something else.

“History and hope come to mind when thinking about home.” History demands relationships, and it is manifested in stories, and stories feel like home.

“All three (home, relationship, and trust) are blessings; if you possess them you have been graced.” That is certainly true. The only reason I can have this conversation is because I have been blessed with love, home, relationships, and trust. I once told Cyndi, “All the people who ever loved me, still do.” That is a gift from God. And I have never been homeless, in any sense of the word. That, too, is a blessing from God.

We have lived in our new house for two years now (so maybe it isn’t new any longer, but since we lived in our previous house 26 years, this still seems new), and I must say, it feels like home. But some rooms feel more like home that others. There are some rooms where I still feel like a visitor.

To feel at home there has to be trust, commitment, history, stories, and peace. For me, even the journey itself, the path, feels like home. My heart is at peace when I am on the move.

What about you? When are you at home?

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

To learn about Berry’s books, “Running With God,” go to www.runningwithgodonline.com , or “Retreating With God,” go to www.retreatingwithgod.com ,… Follow Berry on Twitter at @berrysimpson … Contact Berry directly: berry@stonefoot.org … To post a comment or subscribe to this free journal: www.journalentries.org

Journal entry 030311: Right away

“Some problems have to be dealt with right away,” is what I said to Cyndi last Sunday morning at Katie and Drew’s house in Mansfield, one day after our sugar-and-cake overdose (also known as granddaughter Madden’s first birthday party) when I discovered I was limping around the house, which isn’t unusual for me and is typically caused by sore knees or stiff legs after a long run but this time was due to a sharp specific stabbing pain under my big toe, not a regular injury for me, and so when I pulled off my shoe I discovered a grass burr in my dress sock, which in my life means a black sock since I only buy two colors of socks, white or black, to eliminate the confusion of sorting and locating a  missing member of a pair, and not only do I buy only black and white socks it is important to me that they are identical style so all I have to do in the morning is grab any two socks knowing I’ll be fine all day with none of those awkward your-socks-don’t-match-who-dressed-you moments, and besides I don’t own any clothes that don’t go with either white socks or black socks, but usually if I find a grass burr in a sock it isn’t a dress, so-to-speak, sock, but one of my running socks, especially in the winter, since when I run on the grass at the Windlands Soccer Fields the hidden grass burrs that fell to the ground during the last fall mowing are now desiccated to the point of weightlessness and they splash up onto my socks with every step, and some of the more ambitious burrs take a dive into the small space between sock and shoe that opens and closes with each footfall, and those burrs can bring me to a stop immediately since who can run with grass burrs digging into their feet, not me, but even the burrs that cling to the upper part of my sock or even the skin on my ankle quickly find purchase and I usually hope if I shake my foot between strides, an awkward action even for young lithe flat-bellies, I will fling the burrs away, only it never works to satisfaction but mainly encourages the tenacious burrs to dig in deeper and the braver burrs to dive into my shoe and join their buddies, so I have to stop right there right away and pull them out, interrupting my run, which isn’t all that great anyway but stopping always carries the risk of instant injury-onset, forcing me to limp all the way back to the gym, which I’ve had to do more than once, so I have to stop and remove the burrs because some irritants must be dealt with immediately before they make life unbearably worse.

As soon as I found that grass burr under my toe, Sunday morning at Katie’s, that is, and pulled it out and put my shoe back on, I felt much better, and that was when I realized Cyndi had stopped listening to me a long time ago and wandered off in search of a baby to hold. So I followed her into the kitchen where they were eating breakfast and Madden smiled brightly when I walked in, setting my world aright and removing all memories of grass burrs.

It turns out, some problems which seemed huge only moments before, fade away to nothing in the bright light of joy.

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

To learn about Berry’s books, “Running With God,” go to www.runningwithgodonline.com , or “Retreating With God,” go to www.retreatingwithgod.com ,… Follow Berry on Twitter at @berrysimpson … Contact Berry directly: berry@stonefoot.org … To post a comment or subscribe to this free journal: www.journalentries.org

Journal entry 022411: Finest moment

David pointed out a big pine tree standing about fifteen away. It had no branches for the first 10’ from the ground but had a dark-brown basketball-sized knot about head high. David called it a burl, and said it was prized among woodworkers for turning bowls and such. Something terrible had to have happened to the tree to create that burl, and our group of hikers talked about how tragedies can turn into value.

There were six in our group, and we were taking a break alongside The Bowl Trail in the Guadalupe Mountains National Park, on our way to Hunter Peak. It was beautiful day, about 70 degrees, but the wind was blowing fiercely. Fortunately all its energy was spent rattling the tree tops and not on us. We were sitting in calm contemplation, telling stories of our past adventures and recovering from a long, sustained climb.

David’s comment about the burl captured my attention and, later, after I got back home to internet access, I looked it up. “A burl is a growth on a tree that is very rare and most often occurs when the tree has been damaged usually either by some sort of fungus or mold, or an insect attack. It often looks like a big round tumor growing on the trunk of the tree.”

It occurred to me that if you were to ask the tree about the valuable burl, it would not be so proud of it, but probably ashamed of the bulbous scar and reminded of the deep wound that caused it.

I thought of a scene from the move, Apollo 13, when the NASA Director said, “This could be the worst disaster NASA’s ever faced.” Gene Kranz (played by Ed Harris) replied: “With all due respect, sir, I believe this is going to be our finest moment.”

In our own lives we often can’t get past the story of the deep wound to see the beauty. We are still too close and still hurting from the tragedy to imagine any value.

Brennan Manning wrote (The Ragamuffin Gospel): “Genuine self-acceptance is not derived from the power of positive thinking, mind-games, or pop psychology. It is an act of faith in the God of grace.” We have to trust God that our wounds can become something valuable.

Not to say every wound is good. They aren’t. Not to say all disasters become our finest moment. They don’t. But some do.

We need community - we need other people - we need each other - to see those beautiful parts of our life and remind us of our best features. We’re often too close to see our own finest moments.

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

To learn about Berry’s books, “Running With God,” go to www.runningwithgodonline.com , or “Retreating With God,” go to www.retreatingwithgod.com ,… Follow Berry on Twitter at @berrysimpson … Contact Berry directly: berry@stonefoot.org … To post a comment or subscribe to this free journal: www.journalentries.org

 

Journal entry 021711: What about you?

John asked: Can anyone ultimately succeed in ministry if it doesn’t incorporate what they love to do and are gifted at? That’s a good question.

While running last week I heard a cool TED Talk given by Shimon Schocken, a man who lives in Israel and uses mountain biking as a ministry to young juvenile offenders. It was a timely message. The Iron Men have been talking a lot lately about calling and mission and path, and this TED Talk seemed to speak to that issue. (Of course, when I’m bird-dogging a topic, I’ll admit that, for me, everything tends to point toward it.)

The TED website gives this description: Shimon Schocken is the IDB Professor of Information Technologies and founding dean of the Efi Arazi School of Computer Science at the Interdisciplinary Center (IDC) in Israel. After 10 years at NYU, he returned to his home country to help found IDC Herzliya -- Israel’s first private, non–profit university. Schocken uses his other life passion, mountain biking, to teach adolescent boys in Israel’s juvenile detention centers valuable life lessons through challenging bike rides in remote locations. His TED Talk described that project.

When I hear something I like, I cannot keep it to myself, so I shared a link to the talk with the guys, who made several observations:

When Schocken was trying to persuade the prison warden to let him try his biking experiment, he said, "These are my principles, and if you don't like them I have others." He wasn’t being wishy-washy, he was being flexible, giving the warden room to say yes.

We should ask ourselves which values do we hold that we won't give up for the sake of reaching another person. I wonder how often we claim PRINCIPLES when it is actually our stubborn resistance to change. How often do we care more about being right than being gracious?

Schocken took a big risk leaving his tenured position at NYU and going to Israel. He took another big risk biking with imprisoned juvenile offenders. There was the risk they might strike out and hurt him, and the risk they might use the opportunity to escape on their mountain bikes while he was responsible for them.

It is impossible to talk about God’s calling without also talking about taking risks. This man’s choice to leave one challenging career for another is a great example. We all have many choices, many possible good directions in life, and we have to pick-and-choose. Following God is almost always risky.

Schocken understood that physical movement and shared hardship opens hardened hearts. Whoever taught us that our physical bodies and our intellectual minds were separate entities (was it The Enlightenment?) did us a disservice. Spiritual understanding is often tied to physical movement and that’s one reason Believers have gone on pilgrimages for thousands of years.

As for me, I am more and more convinced that there can be little personal growth without physical movement. I doubt I have ever had an original thought or creative insight when I wasn’t moving. Even my best writing - an activity that appears to be mostly stationary - comes after I have started moving my pen. I have to start writing before the good ideas come.

And another thing. For most men, physical movement, especially if difficult and challenging, brings us together in a way that sitting in a class together can never do. I don’t know why that is, but it is. Men doing something hard together become brothers.

“Can anyone ultimately succeed in ministry if it doesn’t incorporate what they love to do and are gifted at?” Again, it’s a good question, and it speaks to what Gary Barkalow calls the Glory of Your Life, your Calling, the Weightiness of your life.

Schocken turned what he loved to do into his ministry. What do you love to do? What are you gifted at? What is your ministry?

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

To learn about Berry’s books, “Running With God,” go to www.runningwithgodonline.com , or “Retreating With God,” go to www.retreatingwithgod.com ,… Follow Berry on Twitter at @berrysimpson … Contact Berry directly: berry@stonefoot.org … To post a comment or subscribe to this free journal: www.journalentries.org

Journal entry 021011: On the path together

The question Clark placed on the table was this: “Which is worse, (a) being on the wrong path? or (b) being alone on the path?”

The path, in this case, describes the trajectory of our life, God’s will, purpose, and direction for our life. Just as there are physical paths that lead to predictable physical locations, there are spiritual paths that are equally predictable.

The question was especially timely when I first read it Sunday morning; I was ruminating on a story we’d been discussing in our adult Bible study group about Elisha, who shared God’s instructions with a widow, the mother of a young boy. Elisha said, “Go away with your family and stay for a while wherever you can.” (II Kings 8:1, NIV).

I don’t know how you feel, but when I seek God’s path for my life, I want more details than that. “Go someplace else and stay awhile,” doesn’t seem like enough.

So I tried Clark’s question out on several friends just to get their first thoughts. Most people answered (a); it would be worse to be on the wrong path. I can’t argue with them. I think that might be the best answer for most situations.

As for me, I have no problem going down the path alone if I think I’m right, and most of the time I think I’m right. It’s one of my core personality traits to trust my own judgment first.

I don’t think it’s about arrogance, although arrogance is one of those qualities you can’t see in yourself; it’s just that I know how much I read and how much informed news I listen to, and I know that I am a good student of ideas, so when I trust my own opinion that means I’m trusting my own catalogue of researched thoughts and ideas.

I’m not obstinate about it. I often change my mind, but only after I’m convinced the other opinion comes from an intelligent mind that doesn’t draw all its ideas from one single book or a single talk-radio personality or a single TV program.

The reason I’m going on-and-on about this is because when considering whether it’s worse to be on the wrong path or be alone on the path, well that was an easy choice for me for most of my life. I would always choose my path, and I never cared if I was alone. I never minded being the lone dissenting vote.

Nowadays, however, I’m not so sure about that. Not that I want to be on the wrong path, but even less do I want to be on any path alone. The biggest lesson of my life these past years has been the value of having trusted traveling companions.

If I’m alone on the path, even a path I’m convinced is correct, it leaves me captive to my own judgment. Since I won’t doubt myself, I’ll keep going along even if the right path becomes the wrong path. Maybe that’s confidence, or maybe stubbornness, it’s hard to distinguish.

But if I have traveling companions, I can trust our collective judgments. My companions can point out my mistakes and keep me going when I get exhausted. If I’m on the wrong path, but with my trusted band of Godly men, I have a fighting chance to recover and get back right. I am more likely to stay on the correct path when traveling in community.

Fortunately, as Christ-followers, we never have to travel His path alone. In fact, by definition we cannot be alone if we are on His path. Jesus never lays out the path before us just to send us on our way, rather he says simply, “Follow Me.” We are always traveling with Him.

Seth Godin, premier business guru and futurist, wrote in his blog (2-9-11), “Self-sufficiency appears to be a worthy goal, but it’s now impossible if you want to actually get anything done. All our productivity, leverage, and insight come from being part of a community, not apart from it. The goal, I think, is to figure out how to become MORE dependent, not less.”

Mr. Godin is correct, and not just regarding business. I’m grateful for the community of path-walkers who surround me. So Clark, my answer to your question is (b). I don’t want to travel alone.

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

To learn about Berry’s books, “Running With God,” go to www.runningwithgodonline.com , or “Retreating With God,” go to www.retreatingwithgod.com ,… Follow Berry on Twitter at @berrysimpson … Contact Berry directly: berry@stonefoot.org … To post a comment or subscribe to this free journal: www.journalentries.org

Journal entry 020311: Throw it out

Here is my problem with persistent clutter: I’m not good at distinguishing between the debris of the past that should be discarded from the building-blocks of the future that should be saved. I often spend too much energy worrying about whether to throw out something that has been part of my life, only to be surprised how quickly I learn to live without it once it is out-of-sight. And afterward it feels like fresh air, like I’ve finally stepped into the clearing. Author Gail Blanke wrote, “I don’t think we pay enough attention to the lighter, prouder feeling that comes from cleaning stuff out of our lives.” Well said.

I have been reading Gail Blanke’s book, titled “Throw Out Fifty Things: Clear the Clutter, Find Your Life.” I picked it up at Barnes and Noble when I was in Dallas in January. When I first saw it on display I wondered why anyone would need a book to learn how to throw things out. Why add something to the pile of life when you are trying to reduce the pile? But the catalysts of life that push me off the bubble and into action are unpredictable and often subtle. I decided if I were capable of throwing out fifty things on my own I would’ve done it already, so I bought the book and read it. The author was so convincing I started throwing out things after reading the first chapter.

To be honest, there are some things that I’ve always been good at throwing out. Clothes, for example. I’m good about cleaning my closet on a regular basis. When I hang up a shirt fresh from the laundry I put it at the front of the line, so my clothes are sorted by frequency of use rather than color. That means if a shirt remains at the far end of the line for a season or two, it is time for it to go. I don’t throw the clothes in the trash, of course, I give them away, but in the context of Ms. Blanke’s book, it is the same thing.

But as I said, cleaning out my clothes closet has never been hard for me, so I can’t give myself much credit for doing it, even though this particular January I filled a drum-sized heavy-duty opaque plastic bag of seldom-worn and ill-fitting clothes. (The opaque container is important - you don’t want to see the items through the plastic and rethink your decision to throw them out.)

I am also pretty good about cleaning out my books. I have a lot of books on my shelves, and I have read almost every one of them. But I see no glory in simply collecting and storing books just to have a lot of them. And I am not interested in keeping books that haven’t earned their way into my friendship. If I look at a book and know I’ll never pull it off the shelf again, if there are no highlighted passages or notes scribbled in the margins, out it goes. I am not as ruthless with books as I am with clothes - books are more personal than polo shirts - but at least once a year I will fill a box to donate to the Friends of the Library.

Throw Out Fifty Things encourages the thrower-outer to make a list, numbered 1 - 50, and write down the items as you throw them out or give them away or sell them. At some point along the process, completing the list to 50 items becomes its own motivation. According to Blanke’s Rules of Disengagement, that big bag of clothes that I gave away counts as one item, and the books count as another.

So far I’ve emptied at least a dozen boxes from the attic and garage. I want to keep at this while my motivation is high. I know that for most of us, if we leave the clutter long enough that we get used to looking at it every day, get used to stepping around it, then get used to ignoring it, the clutter becomes part of us and part of our daily life and part of our identity and we can’t imagine living without it.

I remember reading a novel by Barbara Wood about living in Kenya titled, “Green City in the Sun,” and she wrote, “Life meant constant vigilance to keep one’s standards. It would be so easy to give in and relax the rules of civilization, and many of the settlers had done just that. The Stone Age could be just a broom or a fork away.” Or in my case, one overlooked box of old stuff.

Cleaning was on my mind last Monday while I was running my five miles, as well as an Erwin McManus talk about the importance of dreaming. I invested a lap around the Windlands Par Course praying about my dreams: I thanked God for making me a dreamer and rescuing me from a life of cynicism and tedium, I confessed my dreams of selling thousands of books and wondered which dreams were from God and which were my own greedy wishful thinking, I wondered if my dreams to be a writer put me on the path to financial destruction even as I thanked God for His clear and unmistakable and

repeated calls to write. And then, in the middle of my prayer, it occurred to me that whether or not I make a real impact as a writer, the past three years I’ve invested have been important in my journey, a definite gift from God. He put too many opportunities where I could reach them, and put too many people in my life that were willing to help me and push me along, for this to have been the wrong path.

So as soon as I got back from the run I added to my list of fifty things, “Fear of traveling the wrong path.” I’m throwing that out, too.

Gail Blanke wrote, “When we throw out the physical clutter, we clear our minds. When we throw out the mental clutter, we clear our souls.” I need a free mind and free soul to go forward into the future. I haven’t finished with my fifty yet ... I only have about 29 things on my list. I’ll let you know when I’m done. Maybe you can join me in this adventure.

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

To learn about Berry’s book, “Running With God:” www.runningwithgodonline.com … Follow Berry on Twitter at @berrysimpson … Contact Berry directly: berry@stonefoot.org … To post a comment or subscribe to this free journal: www.journalentries.org

 
(First batch of empty boxes)

Journal entry 012711: A couple of things to learn

There are a couple of things we can all learn from a man named Naaman. The thought came to me Sunday morning when we discussed a classic Bible story featuring two men: Elisha, prophet of God, and Naaman, leader of the army of Aram. The Bible says Naaman was respected and honored by both his master (the king of Aram) and all of the people of the land. He was in charge of the nation’s army, as in Dwight Eisenhower or Colin Powell, a man of influence and fame.

But somewhere along the way during his journey to the top, Naaman contracted the incurable disease of leprosy. He must’ve had enough social standing and military honors by the time he got sick that he wasn’t tossed out of society, but no matter how big and strong he was, no matter how powerful and well-connected he was, he carried the mark of death on him. And leprosy was not a subtle disease that could be hidden from public view. It ravaged the victim’s skin and face; there was no hiding its death sentence.

The story from II Kings 5 reveals a lot about Naaman. For one thing, he was teachable. Twice in the story he took advice from servants. And not only was he teachable, he had the sort of relationship with his servants that made them want to help him and gave them courage to approach him even in his worst moments.

And Naaman was willing to listen and change his mind even in the middle of his rage. When his servant approached him as they left Elisha’s house, angry and offended and bitter, Naaman actually changed his mind and reversed his intended action. Most of us aren’t open to change once we have our mad worked up no matter how desperate we are.

If Naaman hadn’t listened to his servant, he would not have been healed of his leprosy. He would’ve gone back home and died a horrible death, there would’ve been a state funeral, and the story would’ve been over with no lives changed. Fortunately, that isn’t what happened.

One of Naaman’s greatest assets was a friend who was brave enough to tell him: You should look at this again and rethink your reaction; God is in this, go back and try again. We would all live better lives if we had friends like that. We would all be better friends if we spoke up whenever our own friends were about to miss God’s healing.

Another thing we can learn from Naaman is the importance of planning ahead. There is a part of this story after Naaman had been healed when he asked Elisha: “When my master enters the temple of Rimmon to bow down and he is leaning on my arm and I have to bow there also - when I bow down in the temple of Rimmon, may the Lord forgive your servant for this.”

This was after Naaman had made his remarkable profession of faith, “Now I know there is no God in all the world except Israel.” How could he consider visiting the temple of another God?

It is easy to blame Naaman for not being true to his new-found faith. Easy to think he was already looking for a way out, hedging his bets, backing off from his rash statement. But I don’t think that’s what was going on. I believe Naaman had a true conversion. He was already wondering how he would live when he got back home. Becoming a changed man, with new skin and new heart, didn’t change the other details of his daily life.

In fact, if he had been backing away from his profession, he wouldn’t have had to say anything at all - just go on home and forget all about it. How would Elisha know?

Naaman was a military man and I doubt he made any moves without a strategy in place and objectives in mind. In this story he was already planning a strategy for living as a Believer in a hostile land.

He knew the king would notice his baby-soft skin and would want to go to the temple to worship. Naaman would have to deal with the king and Rimmon as soon as he got home.

We have to make the same strategy decisions every day. We have to decide how to live our lives as Christian men and women while surrounded by unbelievers in a hostile land. What should I do? How should I live? What is acceptable and what is forgiven? What is edifying and what destroys?

God accepts us wherever we are. Over and over through the Bible we see God moving toward people who take even the smallest step toward him. He doesn’t demand changes in behavior before he gives his grace. God knows that once someone accepts his grace, the changes will come.

(For the complete story of Naaman and Elisha, read II Kings 5)

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

To learn about Berry’s book, “Running With God:” www.runningwithgodonline.com … Follow Berry on Twitter at @berrysimpson … Contact Berry directly: berry@stonefoot.org … To post a comment or subscribe to this free journal: www.journalentries.org

Journal entry 012011: Deterioration and recovery

I have been reading about Abraham, the original patriarch of the Bible and founder of the Jewish people and Arab people. I am always surprised by the trajectory of his life, how his growth into a man of God, whose very name defined a life of faith, was not a simple linear progression. His maturing came in starts-and-stops, advances and regressions. One moment he showed great faith and trust in God, the next he gave away his wife to save his own life. I expect better from one of the Bible’s main characters.

In these past two weeks I’ve discovered once again how non-linear my own life is. I suffered a regression of my own. In this particular case I’m talking about my physical life rather than my spiritual life, although I’m increasingly aware that they are one and the same.

Only four weeks ago I was joyfully running with my granddaughter Madden, pushing her high-tech stroller through the neighborhood. And then, a few days later, I was struggling down the street on an aching knee, hoping someone would have pity on me and give me a ride back to the gym.

I went running for five miles Tuesday last week, and the first three miles were very good. I ran well, and lightly, and pushed the pace. But when I left the Par Course and walked across the street to avoid traffic, my right knee got suddenly stiff and tight and weak and I couldn’t run on it any more. I was done. I limped the two miles back to the gym. This was my RIGHT knee, my good leg. What was this all about? It made me nervous. It scared me.

It wasn’t my first experience with knee pain. In fact, if you are a regular reader of this journal you are probably sick of hearing about my knees.

Sometime during the fall of 2004 I started noticed pain in my LEFT knee. If I sat at a table or in the movie theater where I couldn’t straighten my leg it would begin to throb and ache. Eventually, it began to wake me up at night, and it often got swollen and puffy.

I stopped running on it. I would walk three miles four or five times a week and it didn’t seem to get any worse.

In May of 2005 I saw an orthopedist. His office took X-rays but didn’t see anything he could fix. He sent me home, telling me it was time to find another activity.

I slowly and gradually recovered, learned to tolerate the discomfort, and returned hiking and backpacking and marathoning back into my life.

That is, until last week when disaster struck again. Only it was my RIGHT knee this time, and because I was afraid I’d done real damage, I scheduled an appointment with Cyndi’s orthopedist. I was jealous that Cyndi recovered so quickly after he repaired her knee last summer, and I didn’t want to go through six more years of limping if I didn’t have to.

They X-rayed both knees. The PA put me on the table and pressed all the pressure points and moved and twisted my knee and leg. She said there was no evidence of tendon or ligament damage. She said the problem was the same thing I heard back in 2005, arthritis. I have lost cartilage in both knees. She showed me several bone spurs that were evidence of meniscus damage. I also had a strange elongated bone spur on my left knee cap that probably resulted from an ancient fracture.

(I looked it up when I got home: I fell on my left knee while Rollerblading with Katie on Wednesday, June 8, 1994. I hit the sidewalk pretty hard that day, and on occasion afterward I would point out to Cyndi how I thought there might be a tiny bone fragment moving around my kneecap.)

My doctor’s visit was disappointing. I had been hoping for a torn ligament or damaged tendon, something that could be repaired and restored. No such luck. Osteoarthritis can’t be repaired overnight.

The PA said the only real solution was eventual knee replacement. I told her I would need to feel a lot more pain than I’ve felt before I would think about that. She recommended treating my knees with Aleve, Glucosamine, and Synvisc. The good news is I won’t blow up or tear something if I keep moving. The bad news is all I have to look forward to is more deterioration. I have to learn to be patient, even resilient, take the long view, and all that. Like Abraham, be prepared for ups and downs.

I don’t know if Abraham had bad knees. Odds are everyone had bad knees 4,000 years ago. His grandson, Jacob, had a bad hip and walked with a limp, but we don’t know how Abraham walked except that he walked with God. And his life was as much about recovery as it was about accomplishment

That’s not so bad. I can live with that. I’ve started the recovery process already.

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

To learn about Berry’s book, “Running With God:” www.runningwithgodonline.com … Follow Berry on Twitter at @berrysimpson … Contact Berry directly: berry@stonefoot.org … To post a comment or subscribe to this free journal: www.journalentries.org

Journal entry 011311: Running with Madden

Wednesday morning before Christmas I had the good fortune to run for 45 minutes with my 10-month-old granddaughter, Madden. Actually, I was the only one running; she rode the entire time in her BOB stroller.

I started planning this run months ago, as soon as we learned Madden would be spending the week with us. I hoped to be able to fit in at least one stroller run. They didn’t have cool strollers like this when our own kids were babies and Cyndi and I had to take turns staying home while the other ran.

Running with Madden brought back a lot of memories from those old days. I remembered how I’d take Byron and Katie to the playground at Essex Park while I ran laps around the park boundary, about three laps to the mile. It wasn’t easy. Every time I passed near the playground, located on the north end of the park, I heard, “Daddy watch me swing,” or “Daddy watch me go down the slide.”  Later, I tried the same routine at the Windlands Par Course but the playground was too far away from the trail to feel comfortable about safety and all that.

Cyndi used to take both kids with her to play in the sand box, otherwise known as the long jump pit, at Memorial Stadium while she ran intervals on the track. Sometimes the sprinklers would be on and the kids had more fun running back and forth through the water.

When they got old enough to ride bikes they would often ride alongside when I ran. That didn’t last long, though; they soon lost interest in riding five miles without the promise of a coke or ice cream or snow cone.

They both spent too many Saturday mornings in our Astro minivan while Cyndi and I set up equipment for a morning race. They ate cold pizza for breakfast, leftovers from the previous night’s packet-stuffing party. That is, until they started entering races themselves, when they learned that old pizza was not the best pre-workout meal.

So back to modern times, Madden and I had a great run together. She won’t remember much about it, though, since she fell asleep as soon as we left the house. She finally woke up crying about two blocks from home. Maybe she was cold, it was 38*F and I’m certain I didn’t bundle her up as much as her mom or grandmother would’ve, or maybe she was disappointed in my slow pace. She is used to going out at her mom’s quicker pace.

Last year I went through an exercise with several of my best guys where we wrote down 100 life goals, and one of my goals was to go backpacking with my grandchildren. Wednesday morning’s run was a long way from backpacking, but it was a move in the right direction. I can’t wait to do more things together.

Dr. Leo Cooney, founder and director of the Section of Geriatrics at the Yale School of Medicine said, “Exercise is not the Holy Grail (of graceful aging). If there’s a Holy Grail, it’s relationships with other people. In fact, if you have to decide between going to the gym or being with your grandchildren, I’d choose the grandchildren.” I don’t know if Cooney is a runner, so I can’t know if that was actually a hard choice for him to make. However, I can say Thanks to Madden, for allowing me to do both. I hope it’s not our last time.

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

To learn about Berry’s book, “Running With God:” www.runningwithgodonline.com … Follow Berry on Twitter at @berrysimpson … Contact Berry directly: berry@stonefoot.org … To post a comment or subscribe to this free journal: www.journalentries.org

Journal entry 010611: More good news

Here’s some good news: I went to Dallas for two days to spend time with our son, Byron. (Before you correct me on which cities I actually visited, I refer to anything east of Weatherford as “Dallas.” Incorrect and inaccurate, I know, and possibly offensive to some, but efficient.) Byron didn’t come home over the holidays since he had to work, so I took Christmas gifts with me. Also, as Cyndi pointed out, I went to remind him that we love him and think about him often and wish we saw more of him. And like that.

More good news, I didn’t have to spend the ten hours driving back and forth on I-35 since Tanya, my sister-in-law and a flight attendant for Southwest Airlines, gave me a buddy pass so I could fly. And being Monday morning the plane was not crowded. And, I successfully solved the “Hard” Sudoku puzzle while we were still in the air.

Just before we took off I overheard a conversation between a young parent and two small children. The kids were being impatient and wanted drinks and peanuts and everything else, so the parent told them “You have to follow the rules,” Good advice, I thought. That bad news was that even in the middle of talking about rules, the parent was using a cell phone that should have been turned off.

More good news, traffic was light so I made good time driving to the Olive Garden in Addison where Byron worked. The bad news happened when I went inside to ask for a table in Byron Simpson’s section and the young hostess looked through her binder and said, “Oh, he isn’t working today.”

That was strange. We had talked about meeting for lunch at his restaurant. Was he sick? Had his plans changed and he didn’t tell me? I fretted about it some, called and left a message, sent a text, then drove to REI on 635 to replace the hiking boots I lost last summer.

The good news was that REI had the same boots I had last summer and wanted another pair of, but even better, they had a waterproof model.

The bad news was that they didn’t have any boots in my size in any model. I guess they sold them all over the Christmas holidays. The only reason I hadn’t ordered a pair of the boots already was because I didn’t know the size I needed. Now, they were out of boots, and I still didn’t know what size.

However, good news again, the cash-register guy used my REI Membership Number to look up past purchases and he found the size of my last pair of boots. So even though I didn’t leave with boots under my arm or on my feet, I knew the model and size I wanted; I could order a pair when I got home.

The good news continued, because as I drove away from REI Byron phoned me. He had been working all morning and was surprised that the hostess said he wasn’t. That was when I learned the he worked in Plano, not Addison. Bummer. That was bad news. I was sure I knew where he worked. I should’ve asked someone (Cyndi, Katie, Byron) for confirmation. However, it would’ve been helpful if the hostess had said he “never” worked there instead of saying he “wasn’t at work.”

Well, since Byron had to work the evening shift, I told him I would be back for dinner. That was good news for him since I tip really well when my own son is waiting on me.

It was also good news that I now had time before dinner to drive to White Rock Lake and run. So I drove to the lake and parked in the lot on the hill at the northeast shore near the bridge.

Then, once again, there was more bad news. I realized I needed to go somewhere to fulfill my biological obligations, and I needed to do it right away. I couldn’t hold out until I ran all the way to one of the park restrooms. So I got back in the car and drove south to a McDonald’s and used their facilities.

Back to the lake, I parked in the lot on Lawther on the west shore. I dug around for my phone to check the temperature but I couldn’t find it. I had the sinking feeling I had left my phone the men’s room at McDonalds. That was bad news, indeed.

So I raced back down to the McDonald’s and found my phone on the counter right where I left it. Whoa, good news. And a surprise, as well.

Now, once more to the lake, where I parked again on the west side and crawled into the back seat of my car to change clothes. I finally started running, clockwise around the lake, at 3:30 PM.

By the time I finished my run it was dark and getting cold. I made the run just fine, but my legs felt hard and stiff. I decided that I should reconsider joining Katie at February’s Cowtown Marathon. There was no way I could be ready in only two months. More bad news.

During the run I listened to a podcast featuring Eric Bryant, and he was great. It was his farewell sermon at Mosaic before moving to Austin to serve in Gateway Church. He talked about a man in the Old Testament portion of the Bible, King Ahaz, who said he didn’t want to try God’s patience by asking for a sign, as if he were the sort of king who always talked to God and cared about offending him.

Good news, God gave him a sign anyway … but the sign would be Jesus, born hundreds of years later. It’s hard to know how this could have been useful to Ahaz, but it was a message that his tiny story was part of a bigger narrative. That his tiny circumstances, which seemed so big to him in the moment, paled in comparison with what God was doing across the centuries. God’s sign was also a reminder to us that we are more than our daily story, we are part of the bigger grander narrative of God, and we can never fully understand the long-term purposes of what God says and does with us.

So more good news; after my run I drove to Plano and had dinner with Bryon. Well, I ate while he worked, but we had fun together cracking jokes and making plans for the next day

At a table across the room sat a body-builder guy with a huge chest and bulging biceps accented by a tastefully-tight T-shirt. He was sitting with his cute tiny blonde girlfriend and they couldn’t decide which desserts to order. Finally, he actually pointed his finger at the menu, and I’m not making this up, his lips silently said, “Eenie-meanie-miney-moe.” How curious that such a huge powerful guy would play a child’s game to make a decision that he hoped would impress his date. I guess we all run home to our upbringing when we can’t decide what to do. At least, as a parent, we hope our kids do that.

Back home in Midland we had some final bad news: our friend and the builder of our home, Gary Kahler, passed away this week from cancer. Yet the good news today at his funeral was how many people were there. For such a quiet and unassuming man, Gary left a huge wake behind him. I especially noticed how many subcontractors and home owners were there. It speaks well for a man to be honored and respected by both his suppliers and his customers. Once again I was reminded of the long-term impact of a life well lived, and how a humble righteous man of character can change the world. That is very good news indeed.

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

To learn about Berry’s book, “Running With God:” www.runningwithgodonline.com … Follow Berry on Twitter at @berrysimpson … Contact Berry directly: berry@stonefoot.org … To post a comment or subscribe to this free journal: www.journalentries.org