I think I know why nourish was the word God whispered to me this year. He knew what was ahead and knew that I would need to pay special attention to nourishing my relationships with my God, my family, my community and my health this year.
He knew that if I didn’t pay attention there was a pretty solid chance that the wheels would just plum fall off.
And you know what, they almost did.
Happy Sunday, dear friends!
I hope you are having a wonderful weekend and are ready for the week ahead! This week we are talking about dreams, sharing awesome Facebook posts about fear and true friendships and getting real about asking for prayer. It’s all the great stuff of life and I hope you are as encouraged by these posts/podcasts as I am.
I once loved to run. I loved sprinting, running as fast and as hard as I could towards the finish line, stretching my legs and arms as far as they would reach, hoping to be a millisecond faster than I was the day before. I loved the wind in my hair and the sun on my back. I especially loved running in relays, calling out “kick” and “stick,” passing the baton and cheering with all my might as our team finished strong.
Those days are long gone, but I often think of the lessons I learned while running around that oval. One of the most important lessons was one of the simplest — run your own race.
I was driving home the other day and the Don Williams song “Lord, I hope this day is good” came on the radio and almost as soon as the song started, tears started flowing down my cheeks. The song has always had this effect on me and yet, I never could put my finger on why.
And then it hit me. The raw vulnerability of the chorus reminded me of all the times I had cried out to God with a similar plea.
As I was making dinner last night, I heard Husband watching the trailer for Fuller House and was instantly transported back to the Friday nights of my formative years.
My best friend and I would often watch together, hanging out in her game room with her little sister. We loved the show and how the girls somehow dealt with many of the same issues we did. I instantly teared up, thinking of all the slumber parties, movie marathons and thousands of secrets whispered between friends.
Husband walked in, saw I was lost in a haze of nostalgia and asked if a TV show from the 90s really had me all misty eyed. I choked out, “Val had a little sister and I was the friend that dropped by all the time.” Husband’s response? “You were Kimmy Gibbler?”
I laughed and said sure, thinking I had done a bad job explaining myself. After all, I was trying to explain that the show meant a lot to me and that there were strong parallels with my life at the time. After all, who would want to be Kimmy Gibbler?
But maybe being Kimmy Gibbler wasn’t such a bad thing. Maybe it was a great thing.