In and Out of Step

A few days ago, I set a goal to write one more post for this month. If you know me at all, it will not surprise you that I am waiting until after 10 pm to fulfill this goal.

I'm proud to say that I've been particularly faithful in my walking and jogging time. If it weren't for ankles that felt as if they were about to break, I would continue increasing my jogging until it was all jogging and no walking. Does anyone have a cure for that? I've never experienced pain in my ankles like this. I literally wince with every step when I jog.

Anyway, I've also added Pilates to my daily routine. Let me tell you, I've been feeling the burn, and it's awesome.

When I walked into the house tonight, I planned on getting into my walking clothes, only to sweat off half of my body weight in the extreme humidity. I, instead, had the surprise of my friend, Rebekah, and my mom telling me that it was too humid to walk, and we would be following a 1994 work out video as a supplement.

This turned into what has probably been the most ridiculous event our living room has ever seen. Between laughing at the instructor and running into each other, I'm not sure how much quality working out went on during our time together.

We spent a significant amount of time out of step during the "work out," but that was as much because of our goofing around as it was our general lack of know-how. Now that I'm writing this, I really wish I had pictures of this to share.

I wonder how much of my life is spent "in step." I wish I could say most of it, but maybe that isn't accurate. In some ways, I feel like I'm often "out of step" and just plain awkward. I'm the person who stutters on the phone, or says the wrong thing at the wrong time, or stuffs a big bite of food in my mouth right before someone asks me what I want to do with my life.

And that's how I generally feel I am. By trying to avoid awkward situations, I somehow make them worse. Do you know what I'm talking about? Do you know someone like this? Are you someone like this? I hope I'm not the only one.

Twice this week, I specifically felt like I was "in step" with where God wanted me. I felt like I followed what I was being led to do. Both times included praying with someone who needed comfort.... something I don't feel I offer very well. Usually I feel a small twinge that I could use a moment to do that sort of thing, but I let it go. During these two instances, I couldn't, and I was amazed at how easy it seemed when I actually did it.

I was reminded by a friend earlier this week that we are to allow the Holy Spirit to live and lead in us, and that we often forget about it. This week, I felt a desire that I think I had lost for awhile. A desire to be used. To be "in step."

A Small Light

It has occurred to me that some of my recent posts have not been overwhelmingly uplifting. To quote Theoden of Rohan, "Dark have been my dreams of late."

Let's have a laugh, eh?

If my incredibly nerdy reference to Lord of the Rings wasn't enough to get you laughing, allow me to let you in on the conversation that just took place in our living room:

Mom's looking over some kind of child development article. She was reading about good home lives, and turned to me suddenly and said, "Do you remember your childhood?"

Random, I thought. I nodded yes.

"It says a home should be warm, organized, and predictable. Was our house warm?"

My immediate thought was about how Dad doesn't let us touch the thermostat, so I answered, "Not in the winter."

"I dooon't think that's what they mean."

In the meantime, we hear Dad come in the back door and get his plate ready for dinner.

"I will predict that he is going to come in here and tell me that I'm in his chair," I quipped.

Enter stage left: Dad, who says nothing at first and stares at me until I move.

"What are you doing," Mom asks him.

"Someone's in my chair."

Our home...

Predictable? Sure.

Forgettable? No way.

Enough to make you laugh? Eh, I guess I don't really care if you get a laugh out of this because it's little moments like this that make me chuckle, and that's just what I needed.

A Faithful Servant

Grab a tissue.

Open another browser or tab, and listen to this song: Where the Streets Have No Name by U2.(Sorry, I'm having trouble linking the song right now.)

Ok. Now, read.

Yesterday the Peoria Journal Star featured a front page story about Pastor Mike facing cancer. I could have written it better.

I'm not being cocky, or even confident in my writing skills. What I am confident in, is what I know about Mike.

You should know that I don't typically call him Pastor Mike. Not because I don't respect him as my pastor, but because he is my teacher and friend as well. Given the circumstances, I will refer to him as my friend first.

One of the most vivid memories I have of Mike comes from the night I was in the Friendship Festival Queen Pageant. At the end of the night, I went home as Miss Congeniality, to a house full of family and friends, fighting off a migraine, and completely exhausted. Before he left, Mike pulled me into a one-armed hug, kissed my forehead, and told me that he was proud of me. That moment will stick with me forever.

Mike is also the reason I was introduced to the Cornerstone festival. I can still picture him speed walking across the grounds to make it to shows on time. It was during that time, shortly after his trip to Africa, that he also opened my eyes and heart to World Vision, the organization that sponsors African children affected by AIDS.

He loves classic rock. His favorite band is U2. I even did a report on u2 in Music Appreciation because he liked them so much. I don't know of any other pastors who have quoted Bono from the pulpit.

Herb Flinkman told me once that he remembers Mike being a bit of a "wild child" in seminary. I believe there was a story about driving a truck with Herb in the back, and going through some sprinklers, or something like that. Mike also used to go around on Canton gabby days to place other people's junk in his friends' yards as a joke.

He is gut-wrenchingly honest and passionate. He is always quick to admit that he loses sleep over his sin and imperfections, and has never assumed a "holier than thou" position or tone of voice. His passion for the Lord and the lost is evident as he raises his voice from the pulpit and is brought to tears by the importance of God's message.

Sometimes his honesty gets him into trouble. Sometimes he speaks before thinking it through all the way. Sometimes people don't get his humor.

But no one is perfect.

I believe that more often than not, when Mike's words get him into trouble, it is because people aren't ready to listen to what they need to hear. I'm speaking from experience here.

Switch to this song now... You Are Still Holy by Rita Springer. (Still can't link it.) I believe it is a reflection of Mike's heart, and I'm trying to get my heart in the same place.

I believe that Mike has taught me more about God during the last six months than I have learned in a long time. The way he as accepted what God has for him astounds me. I want him to fight, to push, but no matter what, God's will, whether I like it or not, will be done.

I still believe in miracles. I will always believe in miracles because we have a powerful God. And I still struggle with the thought of our merciful God taking Mike because I feel that He could do so much more for the kingdom through him.

But... i know where Mike's heart lies. It is with his heavenly Father. I know that our loss will be heaven's gain. And I know that God is already displaying an extraordinary amount of patience in allowing us more time with Mike, whom He must be so anxious to have within His gates.

As I sit here, crying because I hate to see my friend in pain, and I will hate to see him go, I am completely certain that I will not be separated from him for eternity. I know that Mike has a personal relationship with God. I know that he is promised no more suffering in eternity.

I saw Mike this weekend. I hugged him. He's thin, has a big shiner, and is walking with a cane in his weakened state. I hugged him and cried. He told me that right there, in that hug, everything was good. I am ashamed to say that he noticed me crying and asked what was wrong. I didn't want him to see me cry, so I sucked it up and asked him to take a picture with me.

I will always cherish Mike's friendship, leadership in our church, his honesty, and his teachings. He still has a ton that we can learn from him. If you can, talk to him. Soak up whatever you can from what he has to say.

He is a wise man, and I have absolutely no doubt in my soul that when God finally stops being patient, and takes His turn to have Mike beside Him, that He will say "Well done, good and faithful servant."

And THAT, is just a little of what you need to know about Mike Barr.

The Best Dad a Girl Could Ask For

Ok, so I've had a lot of time to write today... Three posts is probably a little crazy, but I don't always have time or energy to do it during the week. So, allow me to celebrate Father's Day by telling you about my dad.

My dad, Eric Lane Rude, is a die hard Cardinals fan, a ruthless card player, a vacation enthusiast, a bug-squasher, a hunter, and above all, a godly man. My earliest memories of my dad include him reading bedtime stories, wrestling on the living room floor, and riding on his shoulders.

He took us on annual vacations. We went skiing, hiking in the mountains, museum and sight-seeing, and show-watching. We experienced the Statue of Liberty, the coast of Maine, Disney World, Hanging Lake in Colorado, and this summer he's taking us to Florida, where we will stay right on the beach.

Dad wants to go to every state. When we vacationed in Vermont, we drove to Rhode Island for lunch. He pulled to the side of the road, so that we could get out and touch the ground in Connecticut. He also pulls over to allow us time to play in mountain creeks.

My dad has the best laugh. We call it the hoarse laugh. He shares it with Grandma Cris, Aunt Sember, and Uncle Colby. It always makes us laugh even more. It's wheezy, and although their mouths are open, just a squeaking wheeze escapes.

Dad has a big heart. He struggled with deciding to get us a dog because of how he felt after his childhood pet died. He caved though... twice. I think that seeing us upset when they died was really hard for him, so no more pets for us.

When I was going into the 8th grade, we found out that Dad had cancer. It was alarming that something like that could happen within our home. We were blessed with God's protection, and he has been cancer free since the end of that year.

I am so grateful for the way our dad raised us. I wouldn't say he spoiled us, but he sure did work hard to give us almost whatever our hearts desired. It was never expected though; it was always a special treat. Dad helped keep us grounded and appreciative.

While Dad is very slow to anger, he is also a no nonsense kind of guy. Growing up, if Katie and I got out of line, it was dealt with quickly. As a result... we didn't get out of line very often. (At least, that's what I'd like to think.)

My dad has taught us what it means to put God first. We never opened presents on Christmas morning without first reading about the birth of Jesus. Missing church was never an option, and we were always encouraged to be more involved. He has always showed us what it means to give thanks for every blessing, and how to give back to God, both through serving and tithing.

He is sacrificial. A wonderful portrait of what our heavenly Father is like. I suppose that's the best thing about my dad. He's a great demonstration of God's love for us.

This post is hard to write. Not because I'm getting emotional, but because I have so much I want to tell you about my dad, so that you can know what I know. However, that would be a whole book. Hey! - there's an idea... Well, I think I'll end it here for now, and hope that if you don't know him yet, you have the opportunity to meet him.

Rule #1

Yesterday was another wonderful day. A day that no amount of rain could dampen and no number of clouds could darken.

My long-time childhood friend, Mary Beth Mansker, walked down the aisle.

She looked elegant, which is very fitting, because elegance is in her nature. She could have stepped right out of a Jane Austen novel. Elegance is only one of the facts you need to know about Mary Beth though. Other necessary knowledge of Mary Beth includes:

*She is probably the most patient person I've ever met. I can't tell you how many stressful situations she has brought me through by allowing me to lean on her calm, cool, and collected shoulders.

*She is creative and imaginative. Katie and I used to go to the Mansker house every day after school. We played Barbies, house, detectives, and we even made pills out of flour and soap when we played pharmacy. Once we were playing that Katie and Lori Anne were our servants, and we took playing seriously. Therefore we had rules they had to follow, and as serious players, they followed them. A phrase they came to hate at the time was "Rule #1: Obey your master." We still laugh about Rule #1 to this day.

*She is a teacher from her hair to her toes. She always has been this way, and she is meticulous. All you have to do is watch her explain ANYTHING to ANYBODY, and you will know.

*She is obedient and loves God. For as long as I can remember, Mary Beth has been a steady, maturing follower of Christ. She has always set a good example for those who are younger, and those who are older than she is.

I know this is a very brief list, but it is comprised of the essentials. The final part being that she and Drew were perfectly brought together and united yesterday before God and their family and friends.

Mary Beth will make a marvelous wife. And this is why: She will be obedient to Rule #1. She will obey her true master. She will obey God, and will be that Proverbs 31 woman. She will be an honorable, faithful, and respectful wife to Drew, and I am completely confident that he will be a faithful and loving husband for my Mary Beth.

The Darndest Things

Instead of my usual walk tonight, I walked to church because Mom and Katie were there for VBS. Also, that was the opposite direction of the rain... which I did not completely avoid.

I arrived, clothes a little damp, hair rain-straightened, and feeling energized. And then I went to visit Katie and Reba.

Katie and Reba were with the 3 and 4 year olds.

Oh my gracious.

While I could tell Katie's patience was wearing thin, I found myself staring, jaw dropped, at some of these children. The whining, the bursts of crying from out of no where, the blaming, the random tangents. Not to mention the little girl who picked her nose and ate what she found.

Wow. I am soooo far from mom material right now.

But they are sweet sometimes, aren't they? Remember Laynah? Our miracle baby? When she walked in the room, she made sure to wave and say hello to me over all the madness going on in around her.

One little girl asked if her finger was still bleeding. (Undoubtedly she had been in a near-death experience... probably a hang nail.) It was closely examined by another little boy who was very concerned about her cuticle. Never mind the fact that they were supposed to be listening to a Bible story at the time.

The said Bible story was about Jesus floating up, up, up, up, up, up into Heaven on a cloud. During this time, we heard some very interesting thoughts on Jesus from these kids.

Here are some of my favorites from the night:

"He's in Heaven, but when Jesus wants to play with His friends He has to float down on a cloud to get to their house."

Teacher: "If you could tell anyone that about Jesus, who would you tell?"
Little girl: "Brayden."
Brayden: "Wowsers!"

Teacher: "Does Jesus love you, Brayden?"
Brayden: "Yes. He even loves my shoes!"

Teacher: "Ava, who would you tell about Jesus?"
Ava: "No one. I don't know anyone." (Starts to cry... for the 15th time.)
Teacher: "What about your parents?"
Ava: "They already know all that stuff."

"How does He FLY?!"

Teacher: "If we don't listen, we won't be able to go back to the bouncy house."
Every little kid in the room: "Am I listening?"

Me: "Ok, we need to put your shoes back on before we can leave."
Little boy: "But I'm so tired of taking my shoes on and off."


I'm sure there were more that I can't remember. And these might not be as funny in writing because you can't hear the conviction behind each thought, but let me assure you: they were hilarious.

When Our Heads Get Heavy...

I've developed a new habit. I've started singing out loud when I go on my walks.

I try to only do it when there's no one within earshot. The past couple days have been Meredith Andrews days. Have you listened to her albums? I only have one: The Invitation. I would highly recommend it.

I don't really listen to very much "Christian" music anymore. This is one album that I love. Times ten. I don't really know anything about Meredith, although she did lead worship at Harvest while I attended there, but I think maybe we're similar in some ways. Her songs have touched my heart and resonate with my thoughts and feelings.

So here it is. Where my heart is at these days.

Many of my family and friends are hurting right now. Directly and indirectly. They are ill, or going through hard times, or they love someone who is ill or going through hard times.

This weekend Meredith reminded me of a simple truth. One I've known for a long time, but seem to forget too often.

I'll let her words do the talking this time:

Let us all as one draw near
To the One who meets us here
Let us all fall down
Before the God who welcomes us in

Lift up your head
And throw off every chain
Lift up your eyes
To the One who doesn't change
Lift up your hands
The broken He will mend
So lift up your head

Let us all fix our gaze
On the Author of our faith
From all else we turn away
For the joy that conquers shame

Lift up your head
And throw off every chain
Lift up your eyes
To the One who doesn't change
Lift up your hands
The broken He will mend
So lift up your head

He is Lover
He is Redeemer
He is Father
He is Friend
He is our shelter
He is our healer
He is the lifter of our head

Lift up your head
And throw off every chain
Lift up your eyes
To the One who doesn't change
Lift up your hands
The broken He will mend
So lift up your head

I need to remember that God is in control. That He knows best. That He will not give us more than we can handle. That if He does not mend us on Earth, He will perfect us in Heaven.

So I will lift up my head and keep my eyes on the One who has the power to heal. Whether He is healing bodies or broken hearts.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B8ett2IF-4k

The Cissna Park Journey

Summer didn't really start for me until today. But now, it's official.

It's different when you don't have school to mark your summer vacation for you. When work keeps going right on through June and July.

So how did I know today was my first day of summer?

Because I went on my first long, outdoor jog of the year. I pulled out those fabulous running shoes for something other than looking awesome. I worked up a healthy sweat from actual work and not simply sunbathing. I listened to a lively running music mix.

For the record, my guilty pleasures: Ke$ha's Cannibal and Lady Gaga's The Fame are absolutely perfect for the quick paced, warm up walk...

Don't judge before you walk to the beats. You'll see.

I was pestered by flies even though I covered my legs and arms in bug spray, which I loathe. So either the bugs were extremely bad today, or that spray just doesn't work... Fantastic.

So now that I've told you about my first solo, summer outing, let me tell you about the experience I shared with the Flinkmans this weekend:

We went tubing down a flooded creek near Cissna Park. The kind you see when you are driving out in the fields and in the middle of no where. It was much higher from all the rain, so it was plenty big, and looked like it would provide a nice "lazy river" experience.

So, Kelly and Jessica picked up some inner tubes, and seven of us made our way to "the river."

We filed in, one by one, down a bank on the side of a field, through what looked like waist-high prairie grass. Except for Jeremy. He dropped into the water from the bridge.

First observation: Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

After several exclamations at the temperature of the water, we started making our way down the creek and into a more wooded area. Although it was cold, it was plenty pleasant. We laughed and tried to warn each other before we ran into low branches or logs we couldn't see under the water. Unfortunately, sometimes the warning were late, and rear ends thudded into logs.

"Um guys... we have a bit of a predicament."

Jake's words unknowingly foreshadowed the rest of the adventure.

Up ahead there was a dam. The creek was completely blocked by logs and branches and other debris from the storms and the flood.

With Jake and Jered's help, we maneuvered our ways up and over the logs and onto the extremely muddy bank to make our way around the blockage.

This happened about three more times, and it seemed progressively worse each time as the mosquitoes began to swarm and then we were unsure about what all the green stuff on the banks was. The ivy-covered Flinkman boys were a little leery about renewing their rashes, and the rest of us didn't want to join the club.

I'm fairly certain I ruined Jered's Toms. We were all getting colder from being in the shade. We were also getting frustrated at the obstacles. And poor Justin had quarter-sized welts all over his back from where the mosquitoes got him.

The last straw came when we looked ahead and saw that the water reached the bottom of a bridge up ahead and that the bridge, itself was covered in more branches and debris. We all scrambled up the tall bank.

At the top of the bank we crawled under an electric fence and back into another field of knee to waist high prairie grass. Everyone broke into a bare-footed sprint through the field. I don't know about the others, but I was fearing snakes and feeling the grass cut at my ankles and in between my toes.

Finally we made it to a flat, bare field. And we slowly trooped back to the car. Exhausted. Frustrated. Tired. And sometimes laughing.

Kelly told us that at one point during a dam evasion, Jessica had looked at her in complete sincerity and said, "This is the worst journey of our lives."

We had a good laugh.

At times, I won't lie, I felt pretty miserable. But it didn't help that my allergies were hitting me full force.

Looking back, I'm so glad that we went. It was a good experience to share with the others. And I find it kind of hilarious to look back at it. I wish I had a video of the last few minutes of the float, followed by the scramble and the sprint.

Maybe this is one of those times where the people make the extraordinary moments. I know I would not look back and be glad I went with many other people. And maybe that's what this story is really about. It's not just a story about a hilariously problematic journey, but a story about a time with friends and family.

I felt so blessed this weekend to be surrounded by the people with whom God surprised me. I didn't see them coming, but I'm glad they did. They are honest and ornery and loving and fiercely loyal, and I love them.