tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-961055627806999672024-03-07T17:14:59.760-06:00Open MikeyA few scattered thoughts from my brain to yours...Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17464703192496667511noreply@blogger.comBlogger2258125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96105562780699967.post-57955518138508391362014-08-20T10:05:00.000-05:002014-08-20T10:05:13.541-05:00Restoring that relationship...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPm-NYCYBy09OxGZnr6avQLmcY-R6xSu6JNzw1tjzrZ5eOuqzHKAfj7LkSKGfBysKZYj1ZejIAmlfFTft5dDJ0Mmc8lR8KclkRE1swu0HUhf2v78v_HOcfNoPhkWyn3j0i0pow96CAKto/s1600/Forgive.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPm-NYCYBy09OxGZnr6avQLmcY-R6xSu6JNzw1tjzrZ5eOuqzHKAfj7LkSKGfBysKZYj1ZejIAmlfFTft5dDJ0Mmc8lR8KclkRE1swu0HUhf2v78v_HOcfNoPhkWyn3j0i0pow96CAKto/s1600/Forgive.jpg" height="175" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">What promises of recovery have come true in your life?</span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">That was the question asked in our men's open share group at <a href="http://prattcr.org/" target="_blank">Pratt Celebrate Recovery</a> this past Monday night. In the middle of answering that question by talking about the promise of forgiveness from God as we forgive others (Matt. 6:14-15) and the freedom I found when I forgave the man who abused me, this thought popped into my head:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">"Forgiving others isn't about our relationship with them as much as it is about our relationship with God."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">If we can't forgive others - or won't - we are damaging our relationship with our Father in Heaven. We cannot enjoy intimacy with him until we forgive our brother or sister from our heart.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Something for all of us to consider!</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17464703192496667511noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96105562780699967.post-22323032195031943272014-04-07T08:49:00.000-05:002014-04-07T08:49:12.824-05:00This work is beneath me...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja6t1nRqArQ3WgDcjm-B28VQIWfn95lImwlHdk_zaMGIIOJzaAiBqY-RSTPyrF4Pwgw7JZWCzeRW9lB77twTRJTp60fB8BNqo0s9bLXeW9J6vVwmTV2rbJ1T4tOeHbg2B_x6fFkwIFls0/s1600/Building-a-stone-wall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja6t1nRqArQ3WgDcjm-B28VQIWfn95lImwlHdk_zaMGIIOJzaAiBqY-RSTPyrF4Pwgw7JZWCzeRW9lB77twTRJTp60fB8BNqo0s9bLXeW9J6vVwmTV2rbJ1T4tOeHbg2B_x6fFkwIFls0/s1600/Building-a-stone-wall.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I was reading Nehemiah 3 recently. It's a rather tedious chapter. The entire thing is a list of those who helped rebuild the walls of Jerusalem after the Babylonian exile. Most of the names (okay, all of them) are people I've never taken note of.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I was reading along as best I could when I stumbled at verse 5.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;">"The next section was repaired by the men of Tekoa,</span><span class="crossreference" style="background-color: white; font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-12333A" title="See cross-reference A">A</a>)"></span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"> but their nobles would not put their shoulders to the work under their supervisors." (NIV)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;">Ugh! There's nothing worse than an uppity person who won't join in the work. Worse yet, a proud peacock who stands around and tells others what to do.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;">When I read these words, I was reminded of a conversation I'd had with a friend recently. He received a promotion to a supervisory role at work last month. Before he took over the role, he took time to talk to each of the men who would answer to him. He said the same thing to each of them: "I'm here to serve you. Let me know how I can help." </span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;">That's what godly leadership looks like!</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white;">Jesus said, "</span>You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them,
and their high officials exercise authority over them. Not so with you.
Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and
whoever wants to be first must be your slave—just as the Son of Man did not
come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many." (Matthew 20:25-28)<br />
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Not so with you! That means no one who claims to follow Jesus can Lord it over people. As a boss, they can give direction, but they should be ready to serve. They ought to put their shoulder to the work and join in what God is doing.<br />
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By the way, if you go on to verse 27 in Nehemiah 3, you'll see an amazing thing.<br />
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"Next to them, the men of Tekoa repaired another section,
from the great projecting tower to the wall of Ophel." (NIV)<br />
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While the nobles were sitting around doing nothing, these men of God were hard at work. I want to be like them! Hope you do too!<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17464703192496667511noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96105562780699967.post-34281285751496773572014-04-04T08:59:00.004-05:002014-04-04T08:59:49.993-05:00Dumb sports controversy...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.cnn.com/2014/04/04/living/boomer-esiason-c-sections-paternity-leave-parents/index.html?hpt=hp_c2" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW1t91YuNmHcjeWJo02OyBv2DpbOT5KP3MYGLo6VQEZFXiyAAni-0iHmQMLibNeaNeVi4vnhdCPWTE3onBtlaFZ1PMMAiUruxUkiagWTdXDMhBuWqovI5jIUpQ6AVER69LLiWGzIAAOpM/s1600/MLB.jpg" height="237" width="400" /></a></div>
How far does sports worship go? Pretty far, evidently. People are criticizing a baseball player for taking two games off to be with his wife while she gives birth. Ridiculous! Even more ridiculous...<a href="http://www.cnn.com/2014/04/04/living/boomer-esiason-c-sections-paternity-leave-parents/index.html?hpt=hp_c2" target="_blank">Boomer Esiason complained that he should have insisted that his wife have a c-section</a> before the start of the season so it wouldn't interfere with work. Grrrrrr! Folks, it's a game! Yes, he gets paid to play, but it's still a game!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17464703192496667511noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96105562780699967.post-86390999725591670562014-02-19T08:32:00.001-06:002014-02-19T08:40:22.571-06:00Sick and tired?<span style="font-family: inherit;">I was listening to a friend talk about the parenting struggles he faces on a daily basis. He talked about how hard he works to raise his kids. Then he said something that blew me away. I won't get it exactly right, but it was something like this:</span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>I was telling God how tired I was of constantly having to remind my kids of the rules and God said to me, "You don't get to be tired of parenting. You're their dad. You have to parent them or no one will."</b></span></blockquote>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVZa2S6hwL0N8OtgwJVkLLiXKJ4cbhbnx8b0zzOcqZUsxHzljuXyycRbcIHgYtIFlopbt2zi-wo0G5R6I-Nhtuxalpjg4F5kVoJ-gBF85w-bnVNdoszqivIdXPaIraWBAcHWmi2Kkr6CY/s1600/imsotired.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVZa2S6hwL0N8OtgwJVkLLiXKJ4cbhbnx8b0zzOcqZUsxHzljuXyycRbcIHgYtIFlopbt2zi-wo0G5R6I-Nhtuxalpjg4F5kVoJ-gBF85w-bnVNdoszqivIdXPaIraWBAcHWmi2Kkr6CY/s1600/imsotired.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: inherit;">I was so glad for that reminder. Parenting can be wearisome for every parent at times. We can, in our hearts, get sick and tired of the rebellion, the attitudes, the defiance. But we don't have any option other than to keep parenting. If I don't parent my kids, no one else will.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Later, after my friend was gone, I too heard God's gentle voice. He spoke to my heart:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>"If you're tired of parenting, you're doing it in your own strength instead of in mine."</b></span></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Another important reminder. Following God's way is not easy when we try it in our own strength. It is only easy if God is doing things his way through us. I need his power. Every parent does. Otherwise we'll often become sick and tired of the task set before us.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Dads, moms, pray for help in raising your kids. You need it. Your kids need you to ask for it so you aren't overbearing or mean-spirited or just plain cranky.</span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="background-color: white;">"Fathers, </span><span style="background-color: white;">do not exasperate your children;</span><span class="crossreference" style="background-color: white; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-29342A" title="See cross-reference A">A</a>)"></span><span style="background-color: white;"> instead, bring them up in the training and instruction of the Lord." (Ephesians 6:4)</span></b></span></blockquote>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17464703192496667511noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96105562780699967.post-15563117498729373052013-12-05T08:37:00.002-06:002013-12-05T08:37:42.780-06:00Thanks, Mrs. Novotny!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid4h1VX3_V9JrCMF8DksM66hSc-Qzb7Eb6MC6XtujlXM1_-RSd80JPtmlTApAuGRi92TAc2VSCoDsuTcBWoItanP-Pd-WHFbNdTvcifQm0f7vEe1Qlc4iRr1FNG-qpNs3DCKnbAnqePqI/s1600/Beth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid4h1VX3_V9JrCMF8DksM66hSc-Qzb7Eb6MC6XtujlXM1_-RSd80JPtmlTApAuGRi92TAc2VSCoDsuTcBWoItanP-Pd-WHFbNdTvcifQm0f7vEe1Qlc4iRr1FNG-qpNs3DCKnbAnqePqI/s200/Beth.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
One year ago today, I walked by Mrs. Novotny's room and, on a whim, stopped in to ask her how much she would charge for guitar lessons.<br />
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"For you?" she asked.<br />
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"Yes." I answered.<br />
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Her reply blew me away. She simply and quietly said, "Nothing." She told me later that she knew it would help me in my ministry, so she was glad to help out.<br />
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That afternoon around 3:45, Mrs. Novotny sat down with me and taught me how to play an E minor chord and a few notes. She sent me home with a guitar and a beginners book.<br />
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I am so thankful for Mrs. Novotny's lesson today. Playing the guitar and singing regularly help me express my heart to God and give me an outlet for the weird thoughts in my head too. I've written more than twenty new songs since I learned the E minor chord on December 5, 2012.<br />
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From the bottom of my heart...thanks, Mrs. Novotny!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17464703192496667511noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96105562780699967.post-7983667160501194852013-12-04T13:08:00.000-06:002013-12-04T13:08:07.188-06:00Wise counsel...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8DawD6C4WN-XuMeOJnmIorVrvOZnrnGLlux4dISmz0O1AiZw9UyJTVuS3nR2hvDoCTP0wNF-i8DiANTyuZIdIiDHxj33BOUxf0yaFpR_9al1pm2flg3s_kMVIDbF8QCKPWDfcdnm0vTE/s1600/Wise_Counsel.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8DawD6C4WN-XuMeOJnmIorVrvOZnrnGLlux4dISmz0O1AiZw9UyJTVuS3nR2hvDoCTP0wNF-i8DiANTyuZIdIiDHxj33BOUxf0yaFpR_9al1pm2flg3s_kMVIDbF8QCKPWDfcdnm0vTE/s200/Wise_Counsel.png" width="200" /></a><span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">I read the story of Rehoboam's ascent to the throne of Israel from 2 Kings 12 this morning. It struck me as completely insane that this young king rejected the advice of the older advisers, men who had time and time again heard the judgments and wisdom of his father, Solomon, the wisest man ever to have lived. Did he not thin that maybe these guys might know a little bit about life and wise action</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; display: inline; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">s? He didn't act on it if he thought it.<br /><br />So let me ask you a question or two to challenge your thinking: Who are the wise men and women near you? Are you listening to them or to the "young men" you grew up with who are self-centered and unwise?<br /><br />Who you listen to matters. Find godly advisers who will point you in the right direction. Reject every bit of guidance that exalts you or sounds even a little bit self-serving.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17464703192496667511noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96105562780699967.post-26643705351280531612013-07-17T14:14:00.000-05:002013-07-17T14:26:15.113-05:00Craving junk...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghLFXPtO_KQIFKC-nIDY7mLMCVMbGuRwkArXg9qBjeb6Zsa24c3YgGCyfHCHYlJYvdMO6VE13_eXR3MaMlidPDPASkdaV6mLgfP4iJQ1mHUWofpNOE2t5OJQYxIrKMQWMQOdNltHrKXJs/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghLFXPtO_KQIFKC-nIDY7mLMCVMbGuRwkArXg9qBjeb6Zsa24c3YgGCyfHCHYlJYvdMO6VE13_eXR3MaMlidPDPASkdaV6mLgfP4iJQ1mHUWofpNOE2t5OJQYxIrKMQWMQOdNltHrKXJs/s200/images.jpg" width="200" /></a>I went to the store last night to buy fruits and vegetables. Nice green leafy lettuce, a firm green cucumber, crunchy orange carrots and the like were on my list. Junk food was not. I went to the produce department, picked out a tomato or two, some green peppers, the other things on the list and then I began to roam aimlessly down other aisles. I walked down the drinks row. No problems. I strolled down the crackers and chips row. Big problem.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCOnwaqsF2eDngB4OGr0LbAB-cEM1uq8Az2wD0_f6LcNkK0zIfHMrEtKxJZJcWqvzekV_dUyRYtbbWOVVUZ1VKhFe-P6l5otsjw15rxBI4WCRjHdJm-5awIr6C8EoahJLGUWZJwhYz7pk/s1600/4F1595F2-89DC-9D38-40E7-A23A410774E6.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCOnwaqsF2eDngB4OGr0LbAB-cEM1uq8Az2wD0_f6LcNkK0zIfHMrEtKxJZJcWqvzekV_dUyRYtbbWOVVUZ1VKhFe-P6l5otsjw15rxBI4WCRjHdJm-5awIr6C8EoahJLGUWZJwhYz7pk/s200/4F1595F2-89DC-9D38-40E7-A23A410774E6.jpeg" width="127" /></a>I love Kroger's Sea Salt and Cracked Pepper kettle chips. A bag of these savory creations "fell" into my cart. I wandered down a few more aisles. Somewhere in the frozen food section, a question popped into my head. "Why am I carrying a bag of greasy potato chips toward the checkout stand?"<br />
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Just over a year ago, I finally gave up soda pop. I craved it every day for weeks after I quit. Eventually, though, my desire for fizzy drinks dissipated. I stopped wanting a sip every ten minutes. I turned down offers of Pepsi, my favorite cola, time and time again. Who needs it?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE22kxOMgVgbgmjpHbOMrI0YPxnOFhjW4DHJ9A5GFFqOoyxZtZ_V9iBBHbVVd1iyoRtmzE5BKNJ2nUZkLQT4kLd66wqgM-6jyjQQYBprsJ_h5c-GOWYmmft90vjBwzcIhifEY0uxQ5rJ8/s1600/932-Gummy-Worms.a.zoom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE22kxOMgVgbgmjpHbOMrI0YPxnOFhjW4DHJ9A5GFFqOoyxZtZ_V9iBBHbVVd1iyoRtmzE5BKNJ2nUZkLQT4kLd66wqgM-6jyjQQYBprsJ_h5c-GOWYmmft90vjBwzcIhifEY0uxQ5rJ8/s200/932-Gummy-Worms.a.zoom.jpg" width="200" /></a>Back to last night's bag of chips. When the "why am I carrying these things" question came to me, I shook my head at my illicit longing for junk. Then I did what I had never done before. I pulled the bag out of my cart, set it down in the nearby ice cream cone display and walked away.<br />
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Can I kick the chip habit? I believe I can. I invite you to hold me accountable. No more chips. And...no more gummy worms. It's time to end the reign of junk in my belly.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17464703192496667511noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96105562780699967.post-75624962001494235292013-07-05T22:00:00.000-05:002013-07-05T22:02:43.064-05:00I give you my neck...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWxVSjTAtL7j_gHz3Dwme2Ew11z7t8jyCAShRCQLGRrPEoWTzz7xlzBdIgsGXZhh2ovUDXML_bVg0EWSvj-XMZSvdKD5qIk20vFOhmgdVt_XclxKY7jBc2qznQBSrxh_-7mCZgA3TdAPg/s1600/catholic-priest-beheading-video.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWxVSjTAtL7j_gHz3Dwme2Ew11z7t8jyCAShRCQLGRrPEoWTzz7xlzBdIgsGXZhh2ovUDXML_bVg0EWSvj-XMZSvdKD5qIk20vFOhmgdVt_XclxKY7jBc2qznQBSrxh_-7mCZgA3TdAPg/s320/catholic-priest-beheading-video.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
I watched part of it. I didn't want to, but I was strangely drawn to the video that was purportedly of a priest being beheaded by a mob of Muslims. I listened to the language I couldn't understand being spoken and then to the indecipherable shouts as the man in ropes was thrown forward and the barbarous act of beheading began. I was thankful that the crowd blocked my view as the camera rolled. It was only after the butchering was done that I saw the head held high by the man in black who'd done the deed. I shut down the site at that point. I was sickened enough.<br />
<br />
Ever since I watched this murderous act, I've been thinking. Back in the 70s, I watched my fair share of end times movies. I remember one scene in particular from one of the apocalyptic thrillers. A man of faith was walked up several steps to a guillotine and his head was removed in a split second. My heart was in my throat, but I decided then that if I was called upon to give my life for Jesus, I could do it.<br />
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The feelings I had while watching what I believed was a gruesome martyrdom were much different at first. The length of time it took from the first cut to the finished decapitation was longer than the quick and relatively painless death of the man in the movie. I imagined how awful it would be to feel the first stroke of the blade across the neck. I wondered how long the pain continued after the vocal cords could no longer scream. Thinking about it made me sick. I felt for the priest who turned out to not be a priest as he lost his life at the hands of evil men.<br />
<br />
My perspective has changed over time. The time of the cutting wasn't really all that long. Maybe a minute. While not pleasant, at least not as pleasant in thought as death by guillotine, it would be endurable. I've suffered pain for longer already. Granted, the pain I've gone through hasn't had the additional fearfulness the surety of death must bring, but still I've tasted agony once or twice. It is bearable for a minute or two or three.<br />
<br />
This realization has led me to pray a prayer that may sound strange to some. I've been praying, "Lord, I give you my neck." I know martyrdom may never be my lot in life, but I want to make sure the decision is made now to choose Jesus over life. If I wait, I'm afraid I might chicken out when the large knives come out. My heart is in my throat again, but I know I could do it endure even the worst death imaginable with God's strength. It was, after all, his power that got Jesus through the much longer and more agonizing execution he suffered through.<br />
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"For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning
its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him
who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and
lose heart." (Hebrews 12:2-3)<o:p></o:p></div>
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Jesus has had my heart to do with as he pleases for many years. I choose today to give him my neck too. However he can use it. It is his.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17464703192496667511noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96105562780699967.post-57375018897025511322013-07-03T10:42:00.002-05:002013-07-03T10:57:59.500-05:00I'm a liar...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA4ekQWwKWLTl__w44GqafNmtZAo8k-kliLmESc5UBPlGMzWGAQZ4eLax_wF3wThBCHkNn-E6t-SskgB-bBNcB527SSlIS009jectChqMazk7m5yV1a1_75A5sqR_hMPhexYEPl1UQpcM/s300/liar-300x225.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA4ekQWwKWLTl__w44GqafNmtZAo8k-kliLmESc5UBPlGMzWGAQZ4eLax_wF3wThBCHkNn-E6t-SskgB-bBNcB527SSlIS009jectChqMazk7m5yV1a1_75A5sqR_hMPhexYEPl1UQpcM/s200/liar-300x225.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
I've come to that place in my recovery where I am finally ready to start thinking about and dealing with the root of the problem - my character defects. I've got a bunch of them. One of the most egregious is my tendency to not be quite truthful. I am, more often that I'd like to be, dishonest. Just so you understand what I'm saying, here's a personalized definition of dishonesty I ran across on a fellow struggler's blog.<br />
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<ul>
<li><b>Dishonesty </b>– Sins of omission and commission. Telling lies,
hiding things, telling half truths or pretending something is so that isn't. Withholding important information. Adding untrue details to stories and
situations. Stealing, cheating, taking
things that aren't ours and that we aren't entitled to. (From <a href="http://lydiacharlotte.wordpress.com/character-defects-by-no-means-exhaustive/">Don't Drink and Don't Die</a>)</li>
</ul>
<o:p></o:p></div>
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I've been guilty of everything mentioned here. I'm especially bad when it comes to adding untrue details to stories and situations. I went to the dentist last week and when they asked me if I flossed, I said, "Yes." I don't know why I did it. I have flossed. I flossed regularly after my last exam. I did it for weeks and then I quit. When I said, "Yes," I probably hadn't flossed in over a month. Why did I say, "Yes"?</div>
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I am working on this defect of character. With God's help - he knows I need it - I will be honest in all my dealings with others.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17464703192496667511noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96105562780699967.post-19985112057231872372013-04-17T06:00:00.000-05:002013-04-24T06:31:56.959-05:00Overthinking the Marathon...<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeCgtGfXH8wRlnsl5tMV15EIpnLwVhAgND3-lttB4sqheXSvxYQpZcpL55trDO65ow1cNK0P890si0jBcU5OFVMy0QKT15kqWTkAdskgxaY1-Sg1UmryrFYeQKXPewmZJarNIdKVXKntw/s1600/OtM-170w.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeCgtGfXH8wRlnsl5tMV15EIpnLwVhAgND3-lttB4sqheXSvxYQpZcpL55trDO65ow1cNK0P890si0jBcU5OFVMy0QKT15kqWTkAdskgxaY1-Sg1UmryrFYeQKXPewmZJarNIdKVXKntw/s1600/OtM-170w.jpg" /></a>I recently picked up and read a copy of <a href="http://www.y42k.com/">Ray Charbonneau</a>’s self-published work, <i>Overthinking the Marathon</i>. From the very
beginning, the author’s conversational style grabbed me. Every day as he
trained for the 2012 Cape Cod Marathon, he “scribbled” out a personal story
worth reading. He made me feel like a friend he was sharing an important part
of his life with.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br />
Sometimes his tales were filled with wild animals (mostly
bunnies). He considered these to be good omens worth mentioning on dozens of
occasions.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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Ray often talked about his wife’s training for her third
marathon. I appreciated the way he spoke of his wife with great respect. His
obvious love for her was refreshing in a world where spouses are so often
grumping and complaining about each other. He cheered for her as much as she
did for him.<o:p></o:p></div>
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There were also plenty of reports on his running club’s
outings. He talked about their regular events and the special things they did
together. Sometimes he’d miss a run to judge a cooking contest that the group
was putting on. Other times, he’d volunteer at a race with others from the club.
As a reader, I almost felt like I was a part of the Sommerville Road Runners
when the last page was turned.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsYLt881jcUbldtlsMTTxYXeTEF0fyjXmfjVkDDLCokbfR98aWpr9EAFWF8Ta17BXGmpIPnCvB0Pa4ZDvYOGzNrz2wZ4aBmu9i7F7pE4ii-j4xepJ1tsBYgKJeiyq_QZdSf6DcHqhuVzo/s1600/8133373628_31bdc32364_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsYLt881jcUbldtlsMTTxYXeTEF0fyjXmfjVkDDLCokbfR98aWpr9EAFWF8Ta17BXGmpIPnCvB0Pa4ZDvYOGzNrz2wZ4aBmu9i7F7pE4ii-j4xepJ1tsBYgKJeiyq_QZdSf6DcHqhuVzo/s320/8133373628_31bdc32364_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ray running in an event</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I laughed throughout the book as Ray described the
adjustments he made to his shoe inserts. He changed his mind about what he
needed more often than I could imagine anyone doing. He’d add a shim here and a
wedge there. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The race reports sprinkled throughout the book were as detailed
as anyone could ask for. He talked about the joys and successes right along
with the aches and pains and disappointments. He was honest about his mistakes
and admitted in the end that he probably raced too much in his lead up to the
Cape Cod.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Charbonneau has a knack for making running advice
interesting and helpful. In my favorite chapter of the entire book, “This I
Believe,” he reasoned with his readers that longer-than-marathon runs are
necessary for everyone training for a fast marathon. His logic was clear and
quite convincing. Here’s just one paragraph worth of his advice.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Plan to run the extra-long run slower than usual so it
doesn’t take too much out of you. Don’t worry about the time. Your only goal is
to put in the distance. Run comfortably; take walking breaks if you want. Stop
at a store to get more sports drink, or on a bridge to admire the view.” (Sorry
no page numbers on the Kindle. You can look for Thursday, August 16th.)<o:p></o:p></div>
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As a cyclist and runner who loves both sports, I was greatly
entertained by Ray’s great dislike of cycling. His tales of woe and of trying
out clipless pedals made me smile as I remembered my own plunge into the world
of complete attachment to the bike.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The culmination of the book, the high point, was Charbonneau’s
post-race report on the Cape Cod Marathon. Throughout the book he’d been
working hard to be ready for a Boston qualifying time at the October race.
Running with him every mile of the way from the starting line to the finish was
a satisfying journey. I’ll let you read the book to find out if he met his BQ
goal. I’d hate to ruin the surprise.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXehpjMgyKfkTF7wU8xFeUaWkNIeYTuLYDcKYKwkc8HFDC1_LmEjRc7In3fyzkxnbRKi_AdtIbMWMPfkrT119G2P54FMN2Xh72uaiJI-ULUEFFCg5urKYBvpIvu_-AmkwmjTCsWe-7pc0/s1600/img_1473-mobile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXehpjMgyKfkTF7wU8xFeUaWkNIeYTuLYDcKYKwkc8HFDC1_LmEjRc7In3fyzkxnbRKi_AdtIbMWMPfkrT119G2P54FMN2Xh72uaiJI-ULUEFFCg5urKYBvpIvu_-AmkwmjTCsWe-7pc0/s200/img_1473-mobile.jpg" width="164" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ray and Mike meet before<br />
the 2013 Boston Marathon</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Having finished <i>Overthinking
the Marathon</i>, I am ready to read another of his books. Right now, I’ve got
my eye on <i>Chasing the Runner’s High: My
Sixty Million-Step Plan</i>. Just the title makes me want to pick it up and
start reading.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
(Update: Ray ran in the <a href="http://y42k.wordpress.com/2013/04/16/post-marathon-update/">2013 Boston Marathon</a> as a guide for a visually impaired runner named Mike. The two of them crossed the finish line in 3:58 (chip time). The time on the clock was 4:05. The pair walked away from the finish area just five to six minutes before the bombs went off.)<br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: inherit;"><strong><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></strong></span>
<span style="color: red; font-family: inherit;"><strong><span style="font-family: inherit;">GIVEAWAY:</span></strong></span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px; orphans: 2; widows: 2;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> Tasha won an eBook copy of "Overthinking the Marathon" on </span></span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">Wednesday, Apri 24, 2013. Thanks to all who read the review. A big thank you goes to Ray for making
this giveaway possible.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17464703192496667511noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96105562780699967.post-11480320834991845882013-04-16T07:45:00.003-05:002013-04-16T07:45:59.586-05:00The ides of April...Yesterday when I tweeted, "Beware the ides of April," I was thinking about taxes, not the Boston Marathon. I never imagined that I would click around later in the day and see smoke billowing from the buildings near the famous race's finish line. I couldn't have dreamed up the images of collapsed and wounded bodies.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQOP0FqZLFqCHr37iXPJxK4E9IaivmfFad84s_9sJ5WBpzRyumXneLZZ6rWPnbav4GKV5d-UjygDBl9Igju4oXCjVRPDq-Qu0sLD9CDDF__9pEZFOgj5yWTxE0aiVwYMnsxz1jmoFatmY/s1600/Boston.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQOP0FqZLFqCHr37iXPJxK4E9IaivmfFad84s_9sJ5WBpzRyumXneLZZ6rWPnbav4GKV5d-UjygDBl9Igju4oXCjVRPDq-Qu0sLD9CDDF__9pEZFOgj5yWTxE0aiVwYMnsxz1jmoFatmY/s320/Boston.jpg" width="320" /></a>I ran angry this morning. Really angry. My pace doesn't show it. My pace was actually over a minute per mile slower than my last run's. The crazy squiggly lines at the beginning of my run are the only evidence of the ire in my heart. I thought a lot about the cowardly act as I ran this way and that. Then, when I got back to near where I'd begun, an idea struck me. I would run to honor the fallen. The end result can be seen in my GPS map. The mess of angry zigzagging now resembles the smoke from the bombing.<br />
<br />
God bless those who have lost loved ones, those who have lost limbs, those who are traumatized. God help those who carried out the bombing.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17464703192496667511noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96105562780699967.post-58469794079541230652013-04-15T08:04:00.001-05:002013-04-15T08:04:16.394-05:00Exploited towers...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgchuhZ20PutatZyHckvkw69GoYXCLdORqSUrn1MOcZdeLDInAafRviqqjJ7-3wWSXS8l4GbVhSzCyFL3VmV8CVpwmjJ9HJUM6BCN3E_bfOBPAZzoZG7UUrbjmbXmBjdYecTs3z253p_dY/s1600/manonwire.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgchuhZ20PutatZyHckvkw69GoYXCLdORqSUrn1MOcZdeLDInAafRviqqjJ7-3wWSXS8l4GbVhSzCyFL3VmV8CVpwmjJ9HJUM6BCN3E_bfOBPAZzoZG7UUrbjmbXmBjdYecTs3z253p_dY/s320/manonwire.jpg" width="241" /></a></div>
What's the first thing you see when you look at this picture? My guess is you saw a plane about to hit a building. That's not what this picture is about at all. The events of 9-11-01 made you focus on the plane and not on the wire walker traipsing across the void between the two towers.<br />
<br />
Philippe Petit, a French man, covered the distance between the north and south towers of the World Trade Center in New York City eight times on August 7, 1974. He spent 45 minutes suspended 450 meters above the ground. He finally stepped off the cable only because the police were going to bring a helicopter in to pluck him off of it. He was afraid the turbulence could dislodge him from his scanty walkway.<br />
<br />
Philippe's feat was memorialized in the 2005 film, <i><a href="http://www.manonwire.com/">Man on Wire</a></i>.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17464703192496667511noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96105562780699967.post-61959138955722355802013-03-28T09:00:00.000-05:002013-03-28T09:00:02.463-05:00Forgiveness brings healing...<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
It is with just a little fear and trepidation that I share a bit of my story with you today. I've never shared this part of my life anywhere outside my family and a few close friends. Until recently, I'm sure I would have been terrified by the thought of posting it online. But this part of my story is about God and the healing and freedom he brings, so I can't keep it quiet any longer.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYVIhmGvUxB9N2SNAOENBzmiycQ0A8Mppflcx-tkEL66n0mzI1UgnxIvPCqyvrbrP-ULfkD352mpHuiIGyceAAr4acZmwtLvxKsWsltd9_oiFeO0lwP6CetEPCHfMGjlLziMJV2vmNJuE/s1600/Sacramento.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="161" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYVIhmGvUxB9N2SNAOENBzmiycQ0A8Mppflcx-tkEL66n0mzI1UgnxIvPCqyvrbrP-ULfkD352mpHuiIGyceAAr4acZmwtLvxKsWsltd9_oiFeO0lwP6CetEPCHfMGjlLziMJV2vmNJuE/s200/Sacramento.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
Growing up, my family moved around a lot as my dad changed jobs. I went to five
elementary schools, two middle schools and two high schools. I normally found friends
quickly at a new school, but when we moved from a small town in Iowa to
Sacramento, California, between my seventh and eighth grade years, things were
different. I don’t know what it was, but I found new relationships difficult
after this move. Maybe I was overwhelmed by the big city atmosphere or maybe it
was because middle school is just plain awkward. Whatever the reason, it took
longer to find peers to associate with.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Into that void stepped a man who, upon coming to our church, took
charge of the youth group. He voluntarily spent time with us, teaching our
Sunday School class and organizing fun events. I took to this man and we became
friends. We did lots of stuff together.
He came to the school from time to time and took me out to lunch at a nearby
fast food restaurant.<o:p></o:p></div>
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After a few months, this man’s mom kicked him out of her house. That’s
what he told us anyway. I’m not sure now whether he was telling the truth or
not. To make a long story short, my parents allowed him to move into our house.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Shortly after he came under our roof, he began visiting me at night
when everyone was a sleep. He would ask if he could do things that I wasn’t
sure he should do, but I was afraid of losing his friendship so I went along
with his requests. For a little over a year, I was sexually and emotionally
abused by this man in my own home. Whenever he sensed I was getting
uncomfortable with what he was doing, he would threaten to kill himself if I
ever told anyone what he was doing.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Finally, one day after he had asked me if he could do something that I
found repulsive, I told my mom what had been taking place. That ended the
sexual abuse, but didn’t quite completely end the emotional abuse. The last
thing he said to me was, “I’ll come back for you when you turn 18.” That one
sentence caused me to live in fear for years.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Less than a year after the end of this relationship, we moved back to
Iowa. Just after we arrived, I went to summer camp and there, for some reason,
I decided it was time to tell someone outside of my family what had happened.
My poor counselor was shocked and not exactly sure what to do with this kid
that kept yelling angrily, over and over, “I hate him! I hate him! I hate him!”<o:p></o:p></div>
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For the next two or three years, I lived with seething anger that I kept
buried in my heart. Repressing it led to depression. Fear was there too. I was
18 and I was terrified when I thought that this man might reenter my life.<o:p></o:p></div>
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During the summer between my sophomore and junior years at college, I
ran across these words of Jesus in Matthew 6:14-15, “But if you forgive other
people when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But
if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your
sins.” I realized I was in serious trouble with God. I had not forgiven my
abuser. With the Holy Spirit’s help, I chose to do so that day. That choice was
the beginning of my healing.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Over the next few years, God brought a series of people into my life,
people who counseled with me and prayed with me till I was set free from my
anger. I remember the day I knew I had what God wanted for me. I prayed and the
burden was lifted. I was no longer angry. The chains of bitterness and hatred
that had wrapped themselves around my heart were broken. I was free!<o:p></o:p></div>
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I am grateful to God for all the work he has done in my heart. I want
nothing more than for each of you to find the freedom I have found in Jesus. Today, when I think of the man who molested me, I pray for
him. I want nothing less than his presence with me in heaven. I pray that God
will save him through faith in Jesus and set him free from his sin so that he
and I can worship before God’s throne together for eternity.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17464703192496667511noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96105562780699967.post-59619636316019249292013-03-27T17:20:00.000-05:002013-03-27T22:37:28.558-05:00The cautious return...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoieEzeXHI7FhILs4p45mFcUPELmqXO-1eYn-QXn7G94kzeolRytFD6tt0NFwS0xFAwHY50EINbehKyD1CTfE9dV6z0YaZxX4Ns2B_H-5t7EFz0DcSIM9AzMSr6NXT0FvmEYDkGDbKI4U/s1600/New_StickyJesus_SliderD.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoieEzeXHI7FhILs4p45mFcUPELmqXO-1eYn-QXn7G94kzeolRytFD6tt0NFwS0xFAwHY50EINbehKyD1CTfE9dV6z0YaZxX4Ns2B_H-5t7EFz0DcSIM9AzMSr6NXT0FvmEYDkGDbKI4U/s200/New_StickyJesus_SliderD.jpg" width="187" /></a></div>
The day after I <a href="http://openmikey.blogspot.com/2013/03/quitting-facebook.html">quit Facebook</a>, Twitter and other social networks at God's command, I received notification from the library that a book I'd asked them to purchase had arrived. I went straight to 401 S. Jackson and picked up their freshly acquired copy of <i><a href="http://stickyjesus.com/">@stickyJesus</a></i>. I laughed at the irony of it all. Here I was holding a copy of a book designed to help Jesus' followers serve him and live out their faith online and I had just left the world of status updates and tweets. Still, I thought it was an interesting topic, so I took it home.<br />
<br />
Over the next several evenings and a Saturday, I read <i>@stickyJesus </i>from cover to cover. I was encouraged by the authors' call to missionary service in cyberspace. I was confronted by their warnings against pride and self-promotion. That was me. I wasn't online to show Jesus to the world. I was there to draw people to Mike Neifert (or openmikey, my most frequent username). I prayed a lot as I read. I confessed my sin to God.<br />
<br />
I finished the book in a few short days. It's message sat there in my heart. I continued to pray. Then something unexpected happened. God released me to return to Facebook and Twitter. I was shocked and just a little suspicious. Was this "me" giving "me" permission or was it really God? I'm really good at rationalization. (We all are, aren't we?) I didn't rejoin the surfing throngs right away. I waited and developed a safety net. I did not want to return to my previous state of obsession. I did not want to become distracted from face-to-face relationships by their pixelated versions.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUROa71GYrN_TChCNe-zlChtcBk3PTfVSWsfjHMHHrjB-ZM3XuQlt5EYR3h1tIU_130RfTwKVqOcobJsK7aKM-z6ycCcblUKx8WQNVUQzFVerIzMa2urdY7pKTqrfuUr9DuK96FNg45wc/s1600/Watchdog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUROa71GYrN_TChCNe-zlChtcBk3PTfVSWsfjHMHHrjB-ZM3XuQlt5EYR3h1tIU_130RfTwKVqOcobJsK7aKM-z6ycCcblUKx8WQNVUQzFVerIzMa2urdY7pKTqrfuUr9DuK96FNg45wc/s320/Watchdog.jpg" width="320" /></a>I went to Google and typed in: parental control software. I found a review of five products on <a href="http://www.ilovefreesoftware.com/19/featured/5-free-software-to-limit-computer-time.html">ilovefreesoftware.com</a> and chose <a href="https://onlinefamily.norton.com/familysafety/loginStart.fs">Norton Online Family</a> from the list. I set up my account, added a "child" named mikey, then called one of my accountability partners from <a href="http://prattcr.org/">Celebrate Recovery</a>. I gave him the login information for my Norton account and asked him to monitor my internet usage.<br />
<br />
Now, every time I log in, I am warned: "Norton Family is running on this computer and is currently supervising activity associated with this Windows account." Some of you might find that stifling. I have found it to be quite freeing. I have a "watchdog" in place to keep me away from trouble.<br />
<br />
I am thankful to God for his leading in my life. His provision of a close friend is awesome. I am accountable to both. And now I'm accountable to you too. Feel free to ask me about my "online" life anytime you see me more frequently than it seems wise. If I'm posting frivolous stuff or self-promoting things, call me on it. I want to serve God and live righteously online. I want to show God-given self-control and wisdom.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17464703192496667511noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96105562780699967.post-77076692505397136262013-03-24T13:22:00.001-05:002013-03-24T22:01:12.601-05:00Lying is lying...Perhaps you've been watching the NCAA tournament this weekend. I've watched a game or two. I love it that CBS (and it's partners) have made every game available online. That means I can catch all the action without subscribing to cable. I refuse to pay good money for rotten TV. <span style="color: red;">(Update: the free stuff ends after four hours. It was too good to be true.)</span><br />
<br />
So I logged on for the first time yesterday to watch Wichita State beat Gonzaga. Well, I didn't know at the time that was going to be the result. I was just going to see what happened. During a commercial break I was treated to a Coke Zero commercial or two that made excuses for making brackets and watching games during work hours. The ads made it sound like it was patriotic to cheat your boss. (It's not, by the way.)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilkE1kufVIIUuwVTR2o6JgCcF9fupgCcer0FYGyVAbXjMFTON-8-s1WeAOw49gwQThayd_Kr1EHqeTH3qxAnLqtnxx9VzN7ShUmdX38JEeTnEoQyHvQ8-IW1ou-zcG4QKTQUe_xR0WX7Y/s1600/NCAA1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilkE1kufVIIUuwVTR2o6JgCcF9fupgCcer0FYGyVAbXjMFTON-8-s1WeAOw49gwQThayd_Kr1EHqeTH3qxAnLqtnxx9VzN7ShUmdX38JEeTnEoQyHvQ8-IW1ou-zcG4QKTQUe_xR0WX7Y/s400/NCAA1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Then today I discovered the "Boss Button" on the site. I was curious, so I clicked on it. Immediately my screen was transformed. It looked like I was working on email. This "Boss Button" is designed to make it easier to trick your boss and do what you want on his time. Ugh!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCtMuCBFwgApEmlADAW1W4FH5qaq91oFKr32MgEmEtQoYQWwLO-1-MQ5b665Jbz6YsHsDvQdW1ngsJG3VKOnRYhjz6DFHcjTj8wlh7m8AMBz90o3ZqwWWBdHgN5NTpHU4VGyTkayG-rgY/s1600/NCAA2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCtMuCBFwgApEmlADAW1W4FH5qaq91oFKr32MgEmEtQoYQWwLO-1-MQ5b665Jbz6YsHsDvQdW1ngsJG3VKOnRYhjz6DFHcjTj8wlh7m8AMBz90o3ZqwWWBdHgN5NTpHU4VGyTkayG-rgY/s400/NCAA2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
I know all of this is in jest, but as one who has struggled with keeping my focus on work during work hours I find it less than funny. Lying is lying. It should not be encouraged by anyone. I encourage all my readers to give a day's work for a day's pay.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"<span style="background-color: white;">And whatever you do,</span><sup class="crossreference" style="background-color: white; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-29535AO" title="See cross-reference AO">AO</a>)"></sup><span style="background-color: white;">whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks</span><sup class="crossreference" style="background-color: white; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-29535AP" title="See cross-reference AP">AP</a>)"></sup><span style="background-color: white;"> to God the Father through him." (Colassians 3:17)</span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17464703192496667511noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96105562780699967.post-1908893230577763422013-03-23T22:38:00.000-05:002013-03-23T22:38:36.132-05:00A shocker?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUvuq0FpKbUcisEvXfxmW3AUpc6v4H12B9SE8zvKLwEHu_LCy1uwDwPovR_Z_CI-Beuuhm7JHIBnbozbxg7W1yGfdtPBfjHpRd9nPwNdUsMEbIvyfjSpN-VfKetzhL-8UKULgXzByEm0w/s1600/wushock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="340" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUvuq0FpKbUcisEvXfxmW3AUpc6v4H12B9SE8zvKLwEHu_LCy1uwDwPovR_Z_CI-Beuuhm7JHIBnbozbxg7W1yGfdtPBfjHpRd9nPwNdUsMEbIvyfjSpN-VfKetzhL-8UKULgXzByEm0w/s400/wushock.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
The first number one seed falls! Gonzaga just couldn't keep the Shockers down. Enjoyed watching every minute of it! It was a good night to be in yellow! Sweet 16, baby!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17464703192496667511noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96105562780699967.post-74103670286257067882013-03-23T19:55:00.003-05:002013-03-23T19:56:59.412-05:00The noble hero...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp5570ZJWUNtVYIb0Yv_khRPHEkUFAJhzn2BfY0GOI8a14wx6McgPKl_Nx_2jx3s4rkxFLcb6ITE_bT8Y9PpHSlhRu-1-hFI_i8YSgPwgCDQjLoJ7ml2No5QzbeZdDwXtgu3pRhCzgj38/s1600/dark_knight_rise_616.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="231" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp5570ZJWUNtVYIb0Yv_khRPHEkUFAJhzn2BfY0GOI8a14wx6McgPKl_Nx_2jx3s4rkxFLcb6ITE_bT8Y9PpHSlhRu-1-hFI_i8YSgPwgCDQjLoJ7ml2No5QzbeZdDwXtgu3pRhCzgj38/s400/dark_knight_rise_616.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
There have been few heroes of late who show any nobility at all. Most have no morals at all. They're self-centered, self-focused, self-absorbed men who care only for their own glory. (<i><a href="http://marvel.com/ironman3">Ironman</a> </i>comes to mind. <a href="http://captainamerica.marvel.com/"><i>Captain America</i></a> is, in my mind, the most notable exception.)<br />
<br />
I was pleasantly surprised by the noble Bruce Wayne of <i><a href="http://www.thedarkknightrises.com/">The Dark Knight Rises</a></i>. (Yes, I just now got around to watching it.) His choice to take a bomb away from Gotham and seemingly die for the people caused my chest to swell with admiration. That, my friends, is what being a man is all about. The fact that he survives does not in any way diminish his heroism. Thanks, Christopher Nolan, for giving us someone to look up to. Can't wait for <i><a href="http://manofsteel.warnerbros.com/index.html">Man of Steel</a></i>!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17464703192496667511noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96105562780699967.post-50061777114963746172013-03-22T16:33:00.003-05:002013-03-22T16:36:57.976-05:00Quitting Facebook...<div class="MsoNormal">
A little over a week ago, I stepped away from all my social
media networks. I deleted my account on dailymile, a community of athletes I’d
called home since 2010. I disabled my Facebook profile and suspended my Twitter
account. )I still have my Google+ account up and running, but that’s kind of a
joke. I only use it to repost my blog entries. I’ve never browsed the site or
looked at anyone else’s profile.)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Why did I commit cyber hari-kari? God told me to. That’s the
short answer. Living for online companionship had become an idol in my life. I
was spending way too much time “stalking” people without really connecting with
any of them. Facebook and Twitter were distracting me when I needed to spend
face-to-face time with my family. dailymile, which has no value at all to my
work, would, from time to time, suck me in to its web during work hours. All
together, these networks were eating away at real relationship time. I was
watching stupid videos and devouring vacuous memes, not conversing with people.
That’s why God commanded me to jump ship.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Please understand, I’m not saying everyone needs to leave
social media sites. There are many good things about them. You can keep up with
far-flung nieces and nephews. You can encourage friends who are struggling in
life. You can share things that have been helpful to you with the world. Being
on Facebook is for most people a good thing. It is not sinful to have a Twitter
account.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For me, however, it was a control issue. I was out of
control. God knew it. I knew it. It just took me awhile to admit it and take
the steps God was calling me to. He’d given the command once or twice before
and, I’m ashamed to confess it, I’d been unwilling to comply.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was reminded of Paul’s words shortly after I severed ties
online. "'I have the right to do anything,' you say—but not everything is
beneficial. 'I have the right to do anything'—but I will not be mastered by
anything." (1 Corinthians 6:12) Regaining mastery over the permissible is what
this “fast” is all about. I will not return to any of these sites until God
gives me the green light. That’s not going to happen until all is right in my
relationship with him and with others.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If something is mastering you, if something is keeping you
from an intimate connection with God and those around you, I urge you: cut the
ties! Learn to love God with all your heart, mind, soul and strength. Learn to
love our neighbor as yourself. Those are
the things that matter.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17464703192496667511noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96105562780699967.post-2187165510682994262013-03-09T10:25:00.001-06:002013-03-09T10:25:26.151-06:00Slogging around town...I woke up at 7:15. It's nice to sleep in every once in awhile. Yes, that is sleeping in! I wandered around the house getting ready to run. It took me almost 45 minutes to get out the door. I love slow mornings!<br />
<br />
I started out with plans to run around the north side of town. I wasn't in any big hurry. I was just running, listening to music, not a care in the world. I made twists and turns as they presented themselves. I avoided unpaved surfaces since it had rained in the night and was threatening to do so again. It did spit on me a few times. Nothing more.<br />
<br />
I felt like quitting about a mile and a half in. I was sore and tired. I couldn't get a good breath in the moist air. I almost turned back. I didn't. Instead I forced myself to run further from home. I'm glad I did. I probably got four miles more than I would have otherwise.<br />
<br />
Nothing terribly exciting happened on this run. No near misses by cars or vicious dog encounters. I didn't even see another runner or walker. I finished up my run just past my house because I'm not good at stopping just short of a new mile. I stopped at seven and walked back to the house, then to the store to pick up a few things. By the time I was back, a few others were stirring. I hit the shower and ate breakfast. Now I'm ready for the day. (<a href="http://connect.garmin.com/activity/282150330">garmin data</a>)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17464703192496667511noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96105562780699967.post-66544405896365931162013-03-08T06:40:00.005-06:002013-03-08T06:42:34.479-06:00Welcome to the gun show...Just before I left for my run this morning, I saw a <a href="http://www.dailymile.com/">dailymile</a> friend's comment on yesterday's workout. He said, "Make sure the paths of your runs do not end up in the shape of any firearms. You may get banned." Well, I am a rebel. I quickly drew up a route, memorized it and shouted, "Welcome to the gun show!" as I stepped out the door to make it happen.<br />
<br />
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I was a bit sore this morning. My legs did not want to move at first. Thankfully, I had a block to walk before I got to the start of my route. That worked out some of the kinks. The rest were dissipated as I began running. With Big Daddy Weave blaring in my ears, I began tracing.<br />
<br />
I ran up School to Pine, took a left and ran south to make my trigger. I planned to make it a bit longer, but I had to turn around when I saw a dog loose. I'm not deathly afraid of dogs, but I've learned not to startle them in the dark. They don't take kindly to such things.<br />
<br />
I ran back up to School, turned right and ran back to Thompson which took me down to Cleveland and around to Oak to complete the trigger guard. I ran up Oak to School and back to Thompson to complete that part.<br />
<br />
Turning around, I ran back to Oak and took it south to Highway 54. I ran across the street and took the sidewalk west to Main. There wasn't very much traffic, so I had no problem crossing the highway again and heading north on Main. I ran up to School did a little zigging and zagging to make the hammer, then ran down Cherry to add the top of the barrel. A little more twists and turns and the picture was complete.<br />
<br />
What was left to do? Retrace the outline to make sure it looked good from outer space. That's what any Garmin artist worth his weight in electronics would do. There were no dogs on the second time around, but there was more traffic. I had to stop and walk once to let an oil tanker pass. No need to die for time's sake. I'm never in that big of a hurry.<br />
<br />
I finished up and walked the block back home. I was really pleased with my master "piece" when I saw it uploaded. Hope you all enjoy it! (<a href="http://connect.garmin.com/activity/281705779">garmin data</a>)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17464703192496667511noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96105562780699967.post-69161826204424377702013-03-07T06:59:00.001-06:002013-03-07T06:59:26.236-06:00Restart number 54...It's probably an exaggeration, but this morning's run felt like my 54th attempt to get back in the groove of training. I've definitely been in a deep blue workout funk. I haven't been able to find the "want to" for several weeks. I could blame it all on my January 5th injury, but that would be unfair. My body's all healed up. It's my mind and heart that need help.<br />
<br />
Yesterday, I asked friends on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/openmikey">Facebook</a> and <a href="http://www.dailymile.com/">dailymile</a> to yell at me. They did. I was lovingly chided for slacking off. A few people told me they counted on me for inspiration for their own workouts. That's scary! With their voices ringing in my ears, I set my alarm up and hour and went to bed earlier than I had been for the past several weeks.<br />
<br />
I woke up this morning at 5:00. It was dark and cold, but not quite as dark or cold as it has been. It was actually above freezing! That made it easier to gear up and get out the door. Temps in the teens and twenties have been part of my problem.<br />
<br />
I headed out with no particular plan other than to run till 6:30. I ran out to the highway and ran along the just recently cleared sidewalks. I didn't encounter a single snowy spot or ice patch. That was nice.<br />
<br />
When I reached Main Street, I decided to turn south and run down to Fifth which I'd take to the far side of town. Getting far from home makes me run farther. I have to get back, right? I crossed to the west side of Main and ran down the wide sidewalks. I glanced at the movie theater's marquee to see what was showing. I read it, but can't for the life of me remember what's showing now.<br />
<br />
Turning west on Fifth, I enjoyed the short downhill by the Blythe Family Fitness Center and Pratt High. I didn't find as much pleasure in the long, gradual uphill that followed. My hamstrings were sore and grumbly. They were happier when I was a lazy bum. I told them to shut up and kept running.<br />
<br />
At Illinois, I turned south and ran down the hill. I must say, it is really nice to run down this hill every once in awhile. I usually find myself climbing it. Ugh! It's longer going up! I'm sure of it.<br />
<br />
I turned the corner and headed back east on Tenth. I encountered more cars in that half mile or so than I did on all the rest of my run. Not sure why there was so much traffic on a back street.<br />
<br />
As I reapproached Main, Lemon Park called my name, so I turned this way, then that to get there. I ran a loop around the sidewalk. I saw no one until I got back around near the entrance. There I spotted two walkers on the road. I shouted a "good morning" to them and ran on. They were pulling away in their car just as I got back to the parking lot. I must have scared them off.<br />
<br />
I ran up the hill on Pine, passing another walker as I did so. I turned east on Sixth and ran to Howard which took me north back to home base. I was close to 10K, but I stopped. It was 6:30. Time to go in and get some breakfast before the day's "stuff" begins in earnest.<br />
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If you were among those who "shouted" at me to get going yesterday, thanks. I needed the kick in the pants. (<a href="http://connect.garmin.com/activity/281389338">garmin data</a>)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17464703192496667511noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96105562780699967.post-74141787644429985632013-03-02T07:28:00.000-06:002013-03-02T07:28:10.432-06:00Jesus' deadly stare...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd-8qAP0JzgLCSehmKCniqOoNBI95G5HlbdiT2xsnw2o3yjMHCvd6Oinh3ykSIROmfWAuNEIKmt9_29hcX2hhzz-1znxdROiWVBamiw0kgFlE4RHVI-wcMRb_elxAvlidpH8qpCHLKCHU/s1600/66962_554292317944271_1693482011_n.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd-8qAP0JzgLCSehmKCniqOoNBI95G5HlbdiT2xsnw2o3yjMHCvd6Oinh3ykSIROmfWAuNEIKmt9_29hcX2hhzz-1znxdROiWVBamiw0kgFlE4RHVI-wcMRb_elxAvlidpH8qpCHLKCHU/s320/66962_554292317944271_1693482011_n.png" width="320" /></a></div>
Who is this guy? I know he's supposed to be Jesus, but he looks pretty scary to me. His eyes whisper, "I am just toying with you till the chance to kill you presents itself." Not sure I want this "Jesus" anywhere near me. Even though I love the real Jesus, I don't think I will be sharing this photo anywhere except here. That's okay, though, because 61,662 people have already shared him with their Facebook world. Apologies to my friends who will not be able to see their "savior's" intense stare as they scan my wall.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17464703192496667511noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96105562780699967.post-39890179632615906092013-02-28T07:27:00.000-06:002013-02-28T07:27:38.912-06:00Clear road hunting...I decided it was time to start increasing my mileage. I know you don't see that in a 2.75 mile run, but it's true. This is the first time since January 5 that I've run two days in a row. I ran with my Knuckle Lights for visibility and enjoyed the slightly lighter time of day. Next week after that crazy time-change thing, I'll be plunged back into utter darkness. I guess I'll take the light while I have it.<br />
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I left the house in search of a new route. I didn't want to do the same emergency snow routes as I did yesterday. No sense in getting in a rut - literally or figuratively. I ran over to Stout on School, then turned south and ran all the way down to Sixth Street. The streets were clearer than the ones I took yesterday! I saw only a patch or two of ice and they were easily avoided.<br />
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I turned onto Oak and ran up the hill toward Main. When I got to Main, I started to run across to the far side when I noticed the nice, dry sidewalks. I redirected my feet to the flat surface and ran up to Second. The only problems came in front of unused buildings and the donut shop. They should not make those places smell so good. I fled the temptation.<br />
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I turned east on Second and ran over to Oak, greeting a good friend along the way. He was out scraping his windshield. Another neighbor greeted me as well. I turned south on Oak to avoid the snow-pack and ice to the east and ran to Third which I took all the way to Howard which took me north to my home. I ran past the house and did a little out and back to get up to 2.75. Call me OCD if you like. I just can't end on a weird number when I nice pretty distance is so close at hand. (<a href="http://connect.garmin.com/activity/278536554">garmin data</a>)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17464703192496667511noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96105562780699967.post-83456465536805058612013-02-27T07:29:00.002-06:002013-02-27T07:30:23.216-06:00Post-blizzard shake out...It was 11 days ago when I last ran. In those 11 days, two snow storms blasted through town dumping more than a foot of snow on the streets. I live on a snow route, so my street was "cleared" early. It was still snow and ice packed. I thought better of it every time I thought about running. No sense in risking injury from a fall.<br />
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With the melting that took place yesterday, I felt it was safe enough to go out this morning. At 18 degrees, I figured the ice patches would at least be solid. I wouldn't have to worry about falling through and getting wet feet. My socks got soaked yesterday while I was shoveling snow and slush. I wasn't keen on repeating that.<br />
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I stepped out into the cold just before 6:30. Normally on a school day, I'd be stepping back in to fix breakfast at that time. Today is not a normal day. My kids' school is on a two-hour delay, so they don't have to show up till 10:00. They're ready to go. They haven't been to school since the 19th.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvlLx-hUVdGRjAIiSxtR2jWFz7hEFEDSb8SmiBioMJhJa6qB8XgaxztOgmoVfLIlZMWOw58bxrqIue8r9acMiJy8QMPQmMD3yIIWQfrS6rCxkX9pQ5D0YuIrrm2NcXSobLAuWc9fHWh-A/s1600/Snow-Route-Sign-K-6704.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvlLx-hUVdGRjAIiSxtR2jWFz7hEFEDSb8SmiBioMJhJa6qB8XgaxztOgmoVfLIlZMWOw58bxrqIue8r9acMiJy8QMPQmMD3yIIWQfrS6rCxkX9pQ5D0YuIrrm2NcXSobLAuWc9fHWh-A/s200/Snow-Route-Sign-K-6704.gif" width="151" /></a><br />
My plan from the beginning was to run on emergency snow routes. That, if figured, would give me the best footing. I started out running down Howard to mail some bills and my daughter's tax payment, then ran through the grocery store's parking lot over to Lawrence, through the bank's parking lot and onto Stout.<br />
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Stout had a few spots that were icy, but it was mostly clean. I took it up to School, then headed west. School was by far the worst street I ran on. There was a stretch or two where I was running on hard snow and ice. I did not like that one bit. I slowed down and placed each foot carefully.<br />
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I turned north on Main, ran across to the other side and followed it up to Maple. Parts of Main were treacherous too. Thankfully, I saw all the slick spots and avoided them.<br />
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Turning east on Maple, I ran down the hill, then back up it. This quarter mile or so was the driest of all the streets I ran on. Only when I came to the intersection of Stout and turned south did I have ice to deal with.<br />
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I ran down Stout to School and did another loop of the same snow routes bringing me back to School on Stout again. I thought about turning onto School and taking the shorter route home, but opted for the longer route. Retracing my steps through the parking lots, I made my way back to Howard and ran north to home. Glancing at my Garmin, I saw I was close to four and a quarter miles, so I ran till I reached that point then stopped. I turned around and walked straight to my front door. I was tired of the chilled air and ready for a little warmth. (<a href="http://connect.garmin.com/activity/278197200">garmin data</a>)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17464703192496667511noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96105562780699967.post-20158338263389847812013-02-16T14:07:00.001-06:002013-02-16T14:07:28.752-06:00The non-group run...I got up early this morning to meet my <a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/prattrunningclub">Pratt Running Club</a> friends. It was dark and cold. I ran to our meeting place, arriving just before 6:00. I waited. No one showed up. Perhaps 16 degrees was just too much for some of them. Whatever the reason, I ended up running solo.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoxyuF0NMM3lkhvCbBQ0HW-qQejx9K0MeLBVK6-N4RZbOJol2spGSZuR_axGYCr32AYI2hZqQH15CANUx9Akyx43LmHbRU5ySTT27jTquf-bjqIbgQFAaf1KMMrt236-dpK6NwXkE_D5o/s1600/224898_10152376594480226_44804261_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="129" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoxyuF0NMM3lkhvCbBQ0HW-qQejx9K0MeLBVK6-N4RZbOJol2spGSZuR_axGYCr32AYI2hZqQH15CANUx9Akyx43LmHbRU5ySTT27jTquf-bjqIbgQFAaf1KMMrt236-dpK6NwXkE_D5o/s320/224898_10152376594480226_44804261_n.jpg" width="320" /></a>I ran away from our meeting place and ran around town. As I ran, I sang the country song I'd begun writing in my head. I made up parts of two more verses and a change in the chorus. Keeping my mind occupied in this manner, made it much easier to keep going. I hardly noticed the chill.<br />
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I ended up running 10K. It took me a little longer than I would hope for in a race, but I wasn't racing anyone. I guess I'm pleased. (<a href="http://connect.garmin.com/activity/273996268">garmin data</a>)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17464703192496667511noreply@blogger.com0