Category / Personal

by Greg

Running

running

For a few weeks now I’ve been stepping up my morning routine. I have been rising somewhere in the five o’clock hour on most days and try to be out the door at, or before the sun rises. I enjoy the quiet, solitude, and coolness of the dawn hours.

Since January I’ve been doing pretty well at resuming my morning walk routine. A few years back this was a regular habit of mine, but it had been buried by many other activities vying for priority in my life. When I finally decided to change my eating habits (again) I also picked up the walking habit.

Then one day I tried running.

It was strangely difficult, and also easier than I thought it might be.

I’ve tried running before. One of my biggest problems with running is not actually with running—the problem is me. I’m fast. I run fast. So even when I am trying to jog, my “jog” is faster than many might run! This, as you might guess, quickly depletes one’s energy supply—too quickly! I could never run very far, so I stuck to walking.

But I’ve pushed through it this time. I’ve been running a mile or two, usually three or four days a week. One recent morning, as I covered just under 2.5 miles, I realized I’ve learned a few things.

Getting Started is the Hardest Part

The very first day, my feet felt as though I’d never actually run at all! Ever! I couldn’t quite find a good gait. I felt stiff, awkward, and was getting tired again. But I was determined to really give it a good effort, and I pushed through it.

That day I probably only ran about half a mile, two separate times—with a break, and some walking in the middle. But I was happy with what I had accomplished.

As I have continued, I’ve added a bit more distance, and I’ve grown more comfortable overall. But over these few weeks I have noticed that, for me, the beginning is still surprisingly difficult.

Without fail, the first hundred steps or so (it’s not very far!) are stiff, awkward, and oppressive. I just want to stop. But I’ve already learned that once I push past that very short beginning, I settle into the steady pace I am looking for and I run for a long time after that before I even think about it again.

Of course, even before I have dressed, stretched, and headed out the door, the other hard part is just getting up! There are many days when I debate with myself the pros and cons of braving whatever weather awaits me, only to push my body to its sweaty limits—even though I was looking forward to the morning’s run when I closed my eyes the night before.

It seems that getting started is, perhaps, the hardest part.

Discouragement Will Come

Another thing I’ve noticed is that somewhere along the way, despite the groove I’ve attained early in the run, and even if what I’m listening to in my headphones is still holding my interest… I start to feel like I “should quit”.

My body begins to notice its tiredness. My limbs are looser than I want them to be. My brain starts the debate afresh: “Maybe that’s enough for today? You’re getting pretty winded. This is starting to be a bit uncomfortable…” — “But, I haven’t gone as far as I’d like to… I did more than this yesterday, didn’t I?”

I have so far been able to press through those moments of wanting to quit. Each time that I have, I find myself regaining that steady pace, finding my second wind, and—almost unintentionally—the debate subsides. Peace is restored, and I can pursue the next short goal.

Attainable Goals

I have found that mentally setting short goals helps me immensely. Looking ahead and finding the next bend in the path, or an opening, or a large tree… any marker in the distance that I can press toward, especially in those discouraging moments.

It’s really amazing to me how much this helps.

I have marked out a place on my normal running path where I know there is only a short distance left to go. When that place is in view, I prepare myself for my final push. Once I reach that marker I begin running at what I used to call my “running” pace. It’s not a sprint, but it’s pretty fast. When you’ve already been running a while, this is harder than I imagine it to be—every time!

But with a short goal in sight, I have made it every time.

(And once the goal is reached, I happily suck in all the air my lungs can accommodate and resume a much slower walking pace!)

Sweat, Feel Good, Do It Again!

I walk fast. My arms move, aiding my gait, and I generally maintain a 4 MPH pace over a two-mile stretch. This does work up a sweat, but it’s surprising how a slow-and-steady run at about 5.5 MPH increases the amount of work my body is doing, which greatly increases the sweating!

But it does feel good. It’s a really good, sweaty exhaustion. When I reach home I walk a bit more around our yard, regaining my breath. A few glasses of water soon rehydrate me. A nice warm shower cleans and refreshes me.

And I feel awake, alive, and ready for whatever is next.

I know that I also feel much better in general than I have for a long time.

I am NOT a runner. I know runners. They’re crazy! 🙂 And I do not presume to even be mentioned in the same conversation with these dedicated, 26.2-mile-running stalwarts.

But I do think I might keep this up. For a while at least.

I might need a new pair of shoes…

by Greg

Thankful [Memory Lane]

Each Thursday in August we’ll be taking a trip down Memory Lane! I will be posting some of my favorite stories ever published here, part of celebrating ten years of blogging—August 2003 to August 2013. Some posts are taken from books, and others (like today’s) have only been published online thus far. You’ll read stories that are funny, stories that are sad, and several heart-warming moments from the life we’ve lived. If you missed any, you can use the series navigation at the end of this post to read more. I invite you to enjoy these moments from the journey with me, too.

You’ll probably notice, reading through these Memory Lane posts, that my kids are a very important part of my life. I love being a Dad, despite the challenges, hard moments, hard weeks. As I mentioned in the previous post, it’s pretty amazing how much I learn from the kids (seems like it would be vice versa, no?)

This story was of another hard day that became so beautiful, just by being grateful.

Thankful

July 12th, 2011

There are days that it’s incredibly hard to see the good side. Where you’re so completely overwhelmed by the crushing weight of sadness, or failure, or just plain pain that you can’t see a way out of and seems it will never end.

For whatever reason, we’ve had more than our share of those around here lately.

But last night as I was putting the four youngest kids in bed, for some reason I decided to start (quite randomly) naming things that I was thankful for. “Thank you for Mom… and for (insert sibling name here)…” was how I began. Then I began just literally saying any word that came to mind. Some things I saw around their room, or then any related item or word. It quickly exploded into a fun game of who can think of the most random thing to be thankful for!

And the neat thing was, it worked.

The kids were not that excited to go to bed last night, but that little exercise lightened their hearts, and perhaps enlightened mine.

I found it was easy to rattle off all sorts of “good” things that we can be thankful for. Stars, trees, the sun, the moon, Grandmas & Grandpas, other friends we love, books, paper, paint, carpet, air conditioning, and so on. So I began intentionally thinking of “bad” things. (Or at least, weird things to be thankful for.)

“Thank you for toilets. For bottoms. For toilet paper.” Emma (our three-year old) picked right up on that, “Thank you for pee pee… AND poo poo!” And then I actually made myself say, “Thank you for HOT days.” (Reasoning in my mind that, though I loathe and detest the heat, I do love a good, juicy tomato … and they rather enjoy hot days.)

This seemed to work for all of the kiddos from the youngest (just about 2) who would grunt his approval with a little, “mmm hmm” after every word or phrase I’d say, to the room full of his three sisters all spitting out random words as fast as they were able to fit them in. It really was incredible!

One Thousand Gifts by Ann VoskampIt made me think of a book that Jen asked me to read, One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp. Jen reads her blog, and so decided to purchase her book, and was challenged (in a good way) to try to change her perspective on life, as Ann has tried to do. It’s kind of a “glass half-full vs glass half-empty” idea, but a bit different. Her challenge was just to write down 1,000 things that you are thankful for. A few each day.

I think we may have hit about 400 last night alone! 🙂

There are so many things that we can be thankful for. It really just depends on your perspective. If you can come at life looking for goodness, you’ll often (usually) find it. If you’re expecting bad, you’ll usually end up there.

So maybe try it tonight. Putting kids to bed… after they are in bed… on your way home from work… just let you brain bounce from one thing to the next and speak it out, “Thank you for _____.” Not just things that God directly gave us, necessarily, but think about the things that are part of our everyday lives, and how they help us. We really do take much of life “for granted”, as they say. Doing so lifted my spirits last night, and four other tiny spirits.

Perhaps it can lift yours, tonight, too.

by Greg

What Motivates You?

Lacking motivation?

I currently feel very unmotivated. I am banging my head against so many metaphorical walls … and I’m not even making a dent. I’m juggling too many things, being pulled in too many directions, and not feeling any level of success in anything that I am setting out to do. Only failure, or what feels like failure.

What keeps you going? Why do you get out of bed in the mornings?

Or do you not?

I’m still moving. Pressing on. (Maybe running on the treadmill—or the hamster wheel—is a better analogy, but I am still moving.)

But I’m having to really stop and think about why. What is my motivation.

To be honest, partly it’s money. I need to earn money to buy the things our family needs. I need to pay off debts. I would love to make money to save for things we want, or want to do. That is certainly part of my daily motivation.

But that, in itself, is hollow, empty.

I love my family. I love to do things with and for them. That motivates me, but much of my day is spent doing things to earn money for our family, so I don’t get to spend as much time with my family as I’d like. (That’s certainly not my own private lament—I’d say most parents who work feel that lacking in their lives.) My love for them is certainly one of my motivations in life.

And definitely obligation, or a sense of duty will push me through when I’d just rather not. When I know my kids are counting on me, or my wife, or maybe even someone else, I will eke out the physical or emotional will power needed to accomplish whatever needs to be done.

Those are some of the things that can move me when I need moving. There are certainly a few more.

Personal comfort is a big one for me. I am VERY motivated to get those air conditioners cleaned up and locked in place when the first hot weather begins to roll in on us. I do not do well in heat and humidity! And… let me tell you, if there’s an offensive odor somewhere nearby, it doesn’t matter how tired I am, I will eliminate it!

Speaking of eliminating… what about when you really, really have to “go”, and there’s not a bathroom within 10 miles? When “nature calls” we can be pretty good at finding our motivation!

Jen knows a kind of personal comfort motivation, too. She doesn’t like pain; any physical discomfort will cause her to seek any way possible to remedy her situation. This includes hunger. She knows that the well-being of everyone around her depends on her not being hungry! Our physical appetites can certainly motivate us—food, drink, sex, even our pride, and desire for acceptance. These motivations can grow so strong that they become addictions.

Personal comfort is certainly a strong motivator.

Another one for me, somewhat related to personal comfort—in an oxymoronic, paradoxical kind of way—is healthiness. I have been walking most of this calendar year, and eating fresh, good food (and less of it) as many meals as I am able. It was something I really wanted to do for my body, and for my family (so I could be more “here”). There is some part that is “duty”-oriented to this motivation, but also, I do enjoy the quiet time alone, and I feel lighter, more alert—less heavy—and just much better, overall.

And of course, the law is another powerful motivation. Not sure if I’d wear seat belts, or restrain myself from using the cell phone while driving, or give the government-funded school system a detailed report of what we are teaching our kids unless I was compelled to by the laws and codes of our various governments.

But the apostle Paul said:

“For the love of Christ controls and urges and impels us…”—2 Cor. 5:14 (AMP)

And also:

“And whatever you do or say, do it as a representative of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks through him to God the Father.”—Colossians 3:17

So then, love is our motivator. God’s love for us, and for everyone. And being a representative of Jesus—always, gratefully.

I think King Solomon, wisest man to ever live, asked these same questions, pondered these same thoughts. You may already be familiar with his conclusion, even if you don’t attribute it to him:

“Everything is meaningless,” says the Teacher, “completely meaningless!” —Ecclesiastes 1:2

Really. Read Ecclesiastes when you’re feeling aimless, directionless, lacking motivation—it’ll pick ya right up!

So I became greater than all who had lived in Jerusalem before me, and my wisdom never failed me. Anything I wanted, I would take. I denied myself no pleasure. I even found great pleasure in hard work, a reward for all my labors. But as I looked at everything I had worked so hard to accomplish, it was all so meaningless—like chasing the wind. There was nothing really worthwhile anywhere.

(The entire book is this repeating theme of the meaninglessness of everything in life, good and bad. Truly a fascinating read!)

I have no answers. I still feel mostly unmotivated in life. It’s like much of my effort is not worth the effort—it will not have its desired effect, if I am even sure of what that is. I hope God will illuminate me, personally, in that regard. But perhaps he won’t. I know my ultimate motivation—reason for moving—is him. That’s it. Keep my eyes fixed on Jesus. Stay connected to him, the Vine.

That, I know.

But what motivates you? Where do you find reason for your efforts? Impetus for your actions? Why try when our world is so, SO messed up? What does it matter?

Everything is meaningless.

I’d so love to hear your response. Please comment below and let’s do encourage one another with the things that move each of us—great or small—to get out of bed, and carry out a day… and even to do things that move the planet.

What motivates you?

by Greg

Thoughts on Motivation

Not feeling motivated?

I have been working on a post titled, “Motivation” for a few weeks now. It’s something that’s been on my mind for a while. What is it that motivates me? What motivates anyone, really? What causes people to get up out of their beds each day and do anything they do, let alone some of the great things that so many do each day they breathe. This world and seemingly all of its inhabitants constantly fight back against us at nearly every turn … why do we keep going?

It really poses some interesting questions, and I’ve enjoyed putting into words a lot of these thoughts already.

But then… I just can’t ever seem to find the motivation to finish it…

by Greg

X

10th Anniversary of this blog!Today—right now, in fact, at 5:13pm ET—I am celebrating ten years of writing for this blog.

On August 26th, 2003, I published this post (about blogging, and my love for board games) and thus began the journey.

I had intended to celebrate in a couple ways that never came to fruition.

First, I was going to remodel the website here—celebrate with a new look, and a new feature. I have some pretty neat ideas for ways to read through ten years of content. A “reader” of sorts (being a “view”) that will make for a more enjoyable way to browse all of this content.

But life got in the way of that plan.

Then, my plan was just to choose ten articles, one from each year of blogging, and link to them here. Celebrating 10 with 10. But as I combed through the virtual catacombs (a truly enjoyable experience for me, by the way) I discovered that such a task was far too much for me at the moment. Again, life getting in the way.

It’s not just busyness. It really is the volume of what I’ve shared—how could I choose just one post from each year?

And so I will let you celebrate with me at your own leisure. I may indeed continue this post at some point, highlighting my favorite posts from a given year. Or perhaps I will not. I am not certain from this vantage point.

But I do sincerely invite you to browse. I will someday have a nice way to do this, but for now, if you click the years below, you’ll be taken to a link that will display the posts from that calendar year in chronological order.

I’ve also left the posts I selected from three years I did get through. They are all relatively short (two or three minutes to read) and definitely ones that I think are worth resurrecting from the archive!

I do love to write, and will continue to do so. Nearly 800,000 words in just under 1,900 posts. That’s a decent effort for ten years of writing. (Maybe especially since this is not my primary task in life?)

It’s been fun for me to relive some of the earliest memories I’ve written here. I do hope you’ll take a moment or two (or more) and celebrate this day with me. Ten years down, we’ll see how many more!

If you have a favorite post, do share it in the comments below. You can use the Search box above to find the link.

Thanks for reading along for all these years!

Click on any year to read the posts from that year
in chronological order:

Some of my Favorites

2003

  • George (an interesting story from our musical touring days)
  • The Water Shoe (Technically, this was several posts in 2003, but I published them as one story in my book, A Journey Shared, in 2005, and just posted that in my Memory Lane series this summer, 2013.)

2004

2005

2006

There are many more … enjoy browsing the archives above.

What is one of your favorite GregsHead.net posts?

by Greg

Loss [Memory Lane]

Each Thursday in August we’ll be taking a trip down Memory Lane! I will be posting some of my favorite stories ever published here, part of celebrating ten years of blogging—August 2003 to August 2013. Some posts are taken from books (like today’s) and others have only been published online thus far. You’ll read stories that are funny, stories that are sad, and several heart-warming moments from the life we’ve lived. If you missed any, you can use the series navigation at the end of this post to read more. I invite you to enjoy these moments from the journey with me, too.

Not all memories are “good” memories. Though, as you’ll see from this account of a very tough day in our lives, tough and good can somehow coexist when our loving Father is present. He makes all things beautiful.

Loss

Loss

November 11th, 2004

“I came naked from my mother’s womb,
and I will be stripped of everything when I die.
The LORD gave me everything I had,
and the LORD has taken it away.
Praise the name of the LORD!”

Those were the first words – words of worship – immediately following Job’s hearing the news that his children had been killed in a horrible accident. And just before that he had lost much of the wealth that God had blessed him with. An amazing reaction to an extraordinary circumstance. His first thought was to worship the God who had given him life, even in the midst of the demise of the life he had known.

There is a song by songwriter Matt Redman called Blessed Be Your Name. It echoes those lines Job spoke so many years ago,

“You give and take away, you give and take away,
my heart will choose to say, Lord blessed be your name!”

Those words reverberated loudly – even confidently – through my head as we learned that the child we had been eagerly preparing a space for in our family, had stopped developing inside mom’s womb.

“You give and take away… You give and take away…
My heart will choose to say… Lord, blessed be Your name.”

The first moments were just hard. Shocking. Deep sadness. Life hoped for, now lost. And this was not the first time we faced this.

About one week into our tour, there was such a shocking occurence that we thought we had lost the baby. That was on our anniversary. Not the way we wanted to end the day. The drive to the hospital was a little over an hour. Of silence. Of doubting. Of wondering. Of self-pummeling. I felt completely culpable for the loss of this baby’s life. Our lifestyle, my missed chances at reminding Jen to rest, my busyness keeping me from helping Jen with the three kids on the outside. All things were pointing to me being the reason we had lost the baby.

But God was beyond gracious.

When we arrived at the hospital, we were greeted by a friendly nurse who was fairly convinced that the baby was doing just fine. The doctor who followed happened to be at the church we had led in worship the morning prior, and he echoed those sentiments, but they needed to do an ultrasound to make sure.

My heart skipped a beat or two in astonished joy. My soul gasped for air! I can’t describe the feeling of life from death. How the Father must have felt when his son was given breath again! Even knowing the plan ahead of time, his heart must have exploded with joy knowing that not only his son, but all of us who trust in him were given back to him that day!

We went from that place, with images of a dancing baby in our head, and the hope that through a rough 6 or 7 months ahead we would emerge with a miracle baby from God.

“You give and take away…”

Yesterday, following the weekend of God giving wildly to us through his people, we experienced the pain of loss again.

Jen had been experiencing signs of trouble again (we thought) and so we went to the doctor, who put the monitor on Jen’s belly to listen for the heart beat. After about 10 awkward seconds, she said, “Sometimes it’s difficult to find the heartbeat with that machine.”

That had not been our experience, and so we were already thinking the worst.

She turned on the ultrasound equipment, and we began looking at the baby inside. It had grown since the first time, but it was lifeless. No movement. No heartbeat. No life.

No words were said for a time, until the doctor broke the silence, “I’m afraid I have some very bad news…”

My heart sank. It was quite final. The baby was gone. Again.

But this time, the words to that song kept replaying in my head. “You give and take away… my heart will choose to say, Lord, blessed be your name…”

And I meant it. Though I was not necessarily comforted by it just yet.

We discussed the next steps and headed out to the van to go home. The song continued in my head.

When we got to the van, we just sat there in silence. We were both attempting to understand what was happening. To process it. Why would God want to give us a baby for 12 weeks, and then take it home?

There were tears. There was silence. We prayed together. We talked. But the most amazing thing was happening inside my head and heart.

Instead of sadness, there was supreme confidence in God’s love for me. More than just confidence, there was palpable reality. Almost like his hands on my shoulders.

And the song would not leave.

I knew the scripture was from Job, so I looked it up on the computer we had brought with us.

The first thing that stuck out to me was in the NIV translation: “Job got up, tore his robe and shaved his head, then he fell to the group in worship.” His first response was a brief moment of agony and mourning, and then he worshipped. Instead of blaming God for letting this happen, he was compelled to worship him.

That’s where I lost it.

I was too! That’s what I had been feeling the whole time in silence. Strong images and feelings of God’s love and provision for me, for us, were present in my head. I was not conciously thinking of them… they were just there. I was not dwelling on the loss, but rather on things gained from the Giver of all good things.

And that’s exactly what Job experienced.

God’s bigness, his caring, his inividual attention to my life, his unfathomable love — all of that had never been so near to me, so palpable, so REAL.

Words do not do the experience justice, but I really wanted to try. I was astounded by the love God has for, and was showing to ME. I was crying, not out of sadness at our loss as much as out of overwhelming joy and gladness at my Father who loves me.

In a moment, literally less than a second, God also gave me a strong series of images that reminded me of his goodness.

There were three sets of two images. First was the hopsital back in Arkansas. Image one was the deep sadness of losing the baby, and image two was the unspeakable joy of getting that life back! Second was from the weekend just past, where image one was the empty bank account and actually having zero cash being 3000 miles from home with many big bills to pay, and me asking God in a parking lot, “God, what are you going to do??”. The second image connected to that was of the generosity of our Father through his people this weekend, we were given nearly $2000 by people and places that wouldn’t normally be a source of such abundance. The third image was our present circumstance, the final loss of our baby, and attached to that image was a future provision from God that would blow us away with greatness as much as this loss had brought us low.

I had a very specific image, but as I am not claiming to be a prophet, I will guard that image in my heart and will let you know if that does indeed come to fruition. I don’t think God gave me those images for you… but I KNOW he gave them for me.

In less than a second, all of that imagery of God’s attention to our lives came into focus, and I was full-on reminded of his incredible provision and love.

And again, I was brought to tears… not of sadness, but pure, unthinkable joy!

Our God is so good. So, so good.

We are sad, and still dealing with loss. Loss costs us. We won’t know this member of our family until heaven. I see images of families with kids, or even our kids, and I miss the face of the baby we lost. We are definitely hurting.

But there is over all of that, a far greater peace and hope. God made me SO aware of his presence and love in my life today, right now. He is so good that way. And I am not alone in that experience. Which makes it even cooler. Friends today have shared a similar experience, and I believe the reason Job reacted when he did was that God was as overwhelmingly present for him that day as he was for me. And Jobs loss exceeds mine by such a volume as I can’t imagine.

He is so good. Today, yesterday, forever.

The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away. Praise the name of the Lord.

by Greg

Life Is Hard, For Everyone

“Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world.”—Jesus

sad-camYep.

Recently, in several discussions with friends and relatives, I was condsidering again how everyone has something. Each of us—despite appearances to the contrary—is dealing with some hard thing. Whether it’s our own health, finances, relationships, addictions, depression, OR it’s someone close to us who is sick, hurting, dying…

Life is hard. Often really hard.

Kids dying. Marriages being ripped apart (from the inside, even). Poverty, disease, hunger, death. Need I go on? No, but I will. Addictions of all kinds that have an iron grip on their victims, never letting go. Deep sadness, depression, loneliness, suicides. Orphans (by accident, illness, or choice) or even more sad, abortions. Sex trafficking of young children. Forcing other children to learn to hate and kill and destroy whomever they are trained to see as ‘the enemy’.

Steal, kill, and destroy. Sounds like our Enemy. Powers of darkness. Very real.

And it’s not just volitional evil, of course. Accidents of all kinds rip families apart as some are left to grieve those who are gone. Planet earth can become violent in its own right, whipping up storms and earthquakes and fires… death, destruction, disaster everywhere.

Where is the hope? Why are we not all balled up in a corner hoping to quickly wither away, leaving all of this behind?

“But take heart, because I have overcome the world.”

We can find happiness, and even the elusive joy1 in the midst of whatever blackness may be touching or completely enveloping us. Jesus also said, just before the words above, “But the time is coming—indeed, it’s here now—when… [I will be] alone. Yet I am not alone because the Father is with me.”

I am not alone. The Father is with me.

Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for you are with me.

Words that are embedded in my brain from my childhood. Truth that becomes more real as I live this life. Nearly four decades of dealing with much of what life can dish out had not necessarily jaded me, but I do often feel the bruises and scars from all that I’ve come through.

Come through with him.

The thing is, really, everybody has something. We know we’re not alone because Father is with us. Even if all others abandon us. But we also know we are not alone because—I’m convinced—everyone else around me is going through something as hard (for them) as whatever my deepest hurt is. Now, I don’t want to minimize anyone’s own trial. In fact, I think most of us would feel like MY trial is harder, longer, more arduous. That makes sense, because it obviously affects us the most.

But might there be some joy—some relief?—in sharing the burden of another? For a time, walk beside another who is hurting, even if you are still feeling your way through your own dark.

Share each other’s burdens, and in this way obey the law of Christ. —Galatians 6:2

There is joy in empathy and understanding, for the giver and receiver. There is joy in knowing we’re not alone. Jesus knew it, even without his friends. He also invited us to know that peace, in all circumstances.

“Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.” —Matthew 11:28

Hope, rest, peace… all come from knowing that Jesus is with us, no matter how bleak. Anchoring our hearts to him, there are moments of joy along the way, despite the circumstances.

And, knowing that we’re not the only one facing something terribly hard, perhaps a connection with a friend or relative to share those burdens will bring joy, too.

We’re all dealing with something. Jesus said we would.

He was right.

And REM agreed. (Couldn’t resist adding this video… enjoy!)

Addendum: The day this post was written, during breakfast prep, it was discovered that our long-lived dwarf hamster, Tucker, had finally expired. Needless to say, this became the ‘trial’ of the day for several Campbell children. More evidence that everyone and every day has something, doesn’t it?

  1. I read an article recently that presented the idea that we have happiness in tension with the understanding that sadness will follow. Joy is found even in that sadness, or potential sadness. Well-written, and worth the read. ↩
by Greg

The Rolling

rolling

Each day rolls on, paying no mind to me. My waking happens without my choosing, weariness creeps slowly back, until my body begs me to rest once more.

My body requires, and it returns. Food, water, air—all are processed by this body without my doing, though I do receive some pleasure in parts of the intake.

Heart pumps, lungs contract and release, even thoughts seem to fire across the pathways of my brain without my initiation.

And the days roll on.

If we are not careful, we slip too easily into the thoughtless thrum of life. So much happens without our say. Days unfold and close up again, one after another, so much the same. So many the same.

It’s easy to let life live itself.

But we are here. We have a part. We can choose to step along with the relentless autonomous. We are not merely observers, though some things we have not the capacity to alter. Nor even the desire.

Yet we stop to smile. To breathe. To love. To listen. To live.

Then we do it all again, with the next Rolling.

Today, I want to take part. Partake. Be part. I am. I will.

Breathe, taste, see, know, be. While all is rolling on, I have the power to do those things. And more. Think, make, read, consider, create. Care, share, serve, do. So many ways to exert my own unique additions to the Roll.

And though I exert, or pause to observe—still it rolls.

Even when our bodies weary to the point of expiration, all will continue. Ceasing our participation in the perpetual cycle, in a way exercising one last influence, breaking free.

Sun up, body up. Another day. Rolling. Lived, regarded, perceived, communed. Until all of me is spent by choice and by the Roll. Weary, welcome rest. Renew.

And roll on.

by Greg

The Simple Life

I have two friends who host a podcast called “Cultivate Simple“. It’s about working toward living simply, intentionally, in every area of life. They certainly are quite good at this, but I always chuckle at the title as I am also aware of the multitude of actitivies and responsibilities and events that dot their schedules. (To the point where these ‘dots’ often commingle into much larger ‘blobs’.)

Not too long ago, as I discussed our family’s schedule for the week with Jen, I saw many of my own dots chaotically infringing upon one another, and my own blobs growing unmanageable and out of my control.

And I longed for simple.

My heart nearly begs for simple. Maybe even my body. After a full day of celebrating Cameron’s birthday, I crashed on our bed—out like the proverbial light—much, much earlier than I would normally bed down for a night.

And though that longing is present and making itself known, here I am, amidst six growing-older children, a wife who loves to keep relatively full schedules, and running a couple of my own businesses, too.

Where and how do we find simple in the middle of all that life is? Is it possible to have a quiet, peaceful, serene, simple existence?

Perhaps my definition of simple is all wrong.

Simple. Simplicity.

simple |ˈsimpəl|

adjective ( -pler , -plest )
1 easily understood or done; presenting no difficulty : a simple solution | camcorders are now so simple to operate.
plain, basic, or uncomplicated in form, nature, or design; without much decoration or ornamentation : a simple white blouse | the house is furnished in a simple country style.
[ attrib. ] used to emphasize the fundamental and straightforward nature of something : the simple truth.

2 composed of a single element; not compound.
Mathematics denoting a group that has no proper normal subgroup.
Botany (of a leaf or stem) not divided or branched.
(of a lens, microscope, etc.) consisting of a single lens or component.
(in English grammar) denoting a tense formed without an auxiliary, e.g., sang as opposed to was singing.
(of interest) payable on the sum loaned only. Compare with compound 1.

3 of or characteristic of low rank or status; humble and unpretentious : a simple Buddhist monk.

4 of low or abnormally low intelligence.

Well I don’t think number four is the one I’m looking for. And I’m sure the mathematical and botanical applications are not … applicable here, either. So, am I looking for ‘low rank or status’? ‘Humble and unpretentious’? Yes. But do I live in such a way that is so other-than-that as to cause me to long for ‘simple’? Probably not.

So if I go with these definitions of ‘simple’, I think the second definition under number one might be the thing I am wanting most: “plain, basic, or uncomplicated in form, nature or design; without much decoration or ornamentation.” If you know me, you’re likely aware that I’m not much for ornamentation. I definitely lean toward “plain” and “basic”. (Ha! basic!)

But how—and why—am I lacking that? Where did this train run off the rails?

There’s a problem many of us have: saying ‘no’. Whether it’s out of fear that we might hurt another’s feelings, or whether our own reputation might be somehow sullied—we’re not great at saying, “No.”

There sure is a lot to which we can say ‘no’! There are probably dozens of physical and spiritual and relational and educational opportunities of which we could partake; and in our family, multiply that by eight! No, there is no shortage of chances to exercise our No Muscle.

But instead, we just keep saying yes.

Now, I may have an even more difficult time as I have inherited something of a defect. You see, I look at life as though it might be more conquerable than it truly is. I tend toward optimism, as I have said before. This will often—nearly 100% of the time!—causes me to misjudge the time it might take to do something, usually by at least half. It is quite likely, I believe, that such poor estimation of the duration of various tasks is a direct result of this inherited defect (from my dad) that we call “Cramming Ten Pounds into a Five Pound Bag Syndrome”.1

And boy do I have that… bad!

I don’t intentionally add things to our schedule for appearance (reputation) or for my own sense of accomplishment or anything of that sort. I think if I’ve crowded my schedule, it’s often because I either have those rose-colored, sure-I-can-fit-that-in view of my day or week ahead, OR because, I just forget that I don’t want to do that!

Thus, I frequently return to this place of longing for simple.

My podcasting friends hold solidly to the line of thinking that “simple” does not mean not busy. (Though I would say that they often long for down time, too.)

But isn’t there something to doing less?

I think much of this comes back to technology. As we increase the efficiency with which we do things (via technological advancement) we are able to do more, do it better, do it faster … and honestly, I think this makes us less. We are stretching ourselves beyond what we are designed to do. I will certainly continue this thought in a future post (it’s been ruminating for quite a while now), but to elaborate here would not be… simple.

And simple is what I’m hoping to rediscover.

We do lead a fairly simple life in some ways: we have one vehicle, we live in a relatively modest home, we are not extravagant in our spending, we are not members of many organizations, we like 80s TV shows… simple.

But I think there’s more. And if I do rediscover it in some areas, I’ll be sure to share those discoveries here.

Until then, I need to wrap this up so I can get ready for today’s three events. (Oh, and make breakfast for everyone, gather the laundry, send emails, prep dinner, pay bills, read the library book due back tomorrow, discuss several upcoming events with Jen, mow the lawn, play a word game or two, maybe play a game with Alex, brush my teeth, feed the fish, and save the world.)

Simple!

  1. This reminds me of the other verses I found when I was writing the post Messes. Right before where it says “children are a blessing from the LORD”, it says: “It is useless for you to work so hard from early morning until late at night, anxiously working for food to eat; for God gives rest to his loved ones.” Admittedly, one thing that keeps me busy is needing to make money to feed our family. Perhaps God was gently nudging me here? ↩
by Greg

Messes

The Campbell Kiddos

It’s funny…

I’m really not OK with messes. But, I have kids. Several.

(And they are all really good at making messes!)

Sometimes—after I am able to calm myself down a bit—it makes me smile just to think what a sense of humor God has. He, being all-knowing, must know that I am fairly particular about the environment around me (clutter, noise, odors, textures… you name it!) and yet, I am father to six (beautifully messy) children.

The eight of us reside together in a relatively small home: three bedrooms and one bathroom. (Yes, we have just one bathroom.) Two oldest boys in one bedroom (with lots of other “stuff”), four youngest kids in the other room (with even more “stuff”) and Mom & Dad in the last room, with the rest of the “stuff”.

My wife is an amazing organizer. She loves to do it, too. People seek her advice and assistance when they want to organize things in their lives. And still, we never can seem to keep up. Piles dominate our living space (if we’re lucky enough to have things stacked neatly) and the moments when our floors, counters, tables, and even chairs and couches are not cluttered with various elements of material life are so rare that they are hardly worth mentioning!

Even more humorous, if you go back a generation, my mother-in-law is just amazingly disorganized in her spacial environments. I can’t even describe to you here how impossible it is to navigate her various domains. So, as my father-in-law says, Jen “comes by it honestly”. 🙂

So I have a wife who has a heritage of spacial disorder, and six children who don’t know how to put clothes or toys or books or anything back where it belongs…

This doesn’t seem quite right, does it?

But it is. I am in the right place. God knows me, and he wanted me—particular, obsessive, over-sensitive ME—to be husband and father to these people named Campbell.

I can’t help but laugh as I ponder these things!

So I can walk into the bathroom and find the towels strewn across the floor, bath toys damp from the previous night’s baths and showers, toothpaste over most parts of our small sink, and—more often than not—the toilet holding something that someone forgot to flush. Many times my natural, involuntary reaction is to clench up—OK, probably every time!—but usually I am able to calmly put things back the way I want them to be.

And sometimes, I’m even able to be thankful.

Recently, as I pushed aside soggy toys to get to my toothbrush, I thought, I’m glad for all these teeth to brush. I’m glad for a sink with cold, running water. I’m glad. I took effort, but the corners of my mouth lifted with a smile from deep within me.

Thankfully I do have one space that is somewhat spatially serene. My office is my “sanctuary” because, for the most part, I can keep that relatively organized and clutter-free. It’s a sure sign that I’m overly busy when you see piles or “mess” in my office space.

I really, really, really don’t like messes. Really. I almost can’t handle them.

But I am a blessed man. Surrounded by six children, and a wife who loves me.

Children are a gift from the Lord;
they are a reward from him.
Children born to a young man
are like arrows in a warrior’s hands.
How joyful is the man whose quiver is full of them!

—Psalm 127:3-5

Someday I may have a living space free of clutter. (Though, with Jen’s heritage…) 🙂

But now, even in the midst of the piles of clothes and toys, the sticky surfaces, the dirty dishes and forgotten food behind furniture, the mud, bathroom messes, and everything else—I have an abundant blessing that is worth the messes.

And for me, that’s really saying something!

May your life be full of messes, too.