The wonder of the ordinary

 “It’s a gift to joyfully recognize and accept our own smallness and ordinariness. Then you are free with nothing to live up to, nothing to prove, and nothing to protect. Such freedom is my best description of Christian maturity, because once you know that your “I” is great and one with God, you can ironically be quite content with a small and ordinary “I.” No grandstanding is necessary. Any question of your own importance or dignity has already been resolved once and for all and forever.” 
― Richard Rohr

I mentioned in my last entry that Richard Rohr is one of my favourite authors - not just religious authors but authors period - and that I would come back to him.  When I was grieving the most intensely, mostly after Megan died but sometimes before, I found comfort in the moments when I would turn to his writings and in those few minutes, deliberately to God.

I'm a Christian, and a follower and member of the United Church of Canada in particular.  I haven't been to church in a little while, specifically after a minister I had connected with retired, and I won't lie - sometimes it's hard to feel that need for community when I'm surrounded by so much love in my everyday as it is.  Where my faith has done the best by me, however, was when my sister first died.  I remember feeling the immense sadness one would expect, but not anger - and for that I'm so grateful.  I can be quick to anger as a person, I think it's part of my disposition, but at that time I didn't.  I was so sad that she was gone, perhaps more sad that she'd had to endure a debilitating condition before-had, but I felt no anger towards God.  If anything, I felt thankful that she passed in a peaceful way.  Her stroke could have come on the subway, or at a friend's house - anywhere other than in her bed, in her sleep.  That in itself felt like a tremendous blessing, and perhaps more than we'd been expecting.

I would never want to say that we received this blessing because my family is somehow 'special', or because 'we prayed' for it to happen - not only would that reduce the mystery of God down to some strange give and take relationship, but also insult the millions of people who suffer each day or seemingly no good reason.  I think people sometimes struggle with God because they think of their lives as either being deserving of good things or not - but if bad things happen, what did they do to 'deserve' it?  I firmly believe the answer, either way good or bad, is: nothing.  We live, we try, and by the grace of God we take what comes our way as best we can.

With this in mind, I have been running without any ideas of 'specialness'.  I feel very ordinary, in fact.  A year ago I remember hearing a radio commercial for a local DJ asking people to sponsor her when she would run the Toronto half marathon, and she said, "20K, wow," at the thought of the task ahead.  At the time I remember thinking 'wow' along with her, and that it was quite the feat.  Now that I've made this my own goal however, and started to plan out my training, it doesn't feel so special.  It just feels like a thing I've committed to doing, and by my own hard work and the grace of God, I'll do.


I've been trying to run 3 times a week (two short runs and one long) with 2 gym visits somewhere in between, and things were going great!  But then I got promoted.  Hurray! 
Wait, where did my time go?  It was pinched before, but these days, it seems to be slipping through my fingers even more.  I'm going to do my very best to keep up with that commitment, but sometimes it's just so much easier to sit home with some tea and cookies - not to mention a very warm boyfriend and snuggly puppy-dog. 

Sometimes that lack of 'specialness' means sometimes it's hard to find the drive necessary to get out there and put in a workout.  'Who cares, it's just me!', after all.  Well, what if 'just me' is a good enough reason to feel great?  

I ran 9k yesterday - my longest ever.  I made it through a lot of self-coaching and texted-cheerleading from one of my best friends.  I'm proud of myself, but I'm left with sore knees that are reminding me I still have a long way to go.  I had a feeling early on that this would be a great physical challenge, but perhaps even greater will be the mental challenge.  The challenge will be in finding a balance between my own ordinariness and my own ability to do something special.  Perhaps if I protect neither, but work on finding harmony between them both, I'll find the mental energy to persuade my physical body to keep going. 

In two weeks I'm going to be running in the Monster Dash with my same cheerleading bestie, 10k in the dark!  I'll update with pictures, I promise, and perhaps less philosophical waxing-on. 

Thanks for reading, and of course for all of the demonstrations of support!  People tend to downplay what a kind word or two can do, but they can have amazing effects.  A small, ordinary gesture - truly made beautiful as even a small reflection of our divine belonging to true love.  For this I have so much gratitude, and with this in mind, I'll keep lacing up my shoes.