follow the pope

No joke: the pope is getting Twitter. I can't wait.

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=164711585

running is a metaphor

On one night in March of 2011 I became a runner. I had picked up running before, tossed it around a bit, every time eventually fumbling it as I tried to juggle too many pieces of life that claimed higher priority. But this time was different. I had never run more than a mile before, but on a warm spring night down lazy neigborhood streets I felt like I could keep going forever. A silver parachute floated down from heaven with a gift of five miles, and when I came in the house at midnight and woke Kalie up to tell her about it, I was hooked.

17 months, 1166 miles, and 1 heart surgery later, I ran a marathon.

This long process of committing myself to excellence at something I have no natural talent at, and doing the daily work to train my body to achieve what had been a ridiculously implausible goal, has been incredible. I was weekly humbled by the Holy Spirit's gracious gift of his own strength and sanctifying discipline as I regularly faced runs that I lacked the willpower and stamina to accomplish and he trained my spirit to pursue wisdom and discipline at the cost of my own comfortable inertia. This wasn't just about running; it was about God working bigger things in my spirit and using running as a metaphor.

Thank you to those of you who encouraged me, rolled out of bed with me at 5 am during summer vacation to run before sunrise (that's you, sisters!), made sure I didn't leave the house without water (Gram), took me out for breakfast after my first 5k (331 girls), and drove two hours with handmade signs to cheer me to the finish line (Kim & Jill).

Here's me coming down the finish stretch after running 26.2 miles (getting smoked by Girl in Pink):

But it doesn't stop here! Thanksgiving 5k with the sisters, coming soon!

i'm lucky

The new staff community I'm working with at Seattle Urban Academy:

I guess they're alright.

those other olympics

My lovely friend Leah posted this photostory of our recent camping trip to the Pacific coast and the Hoh Rainforest: http://www.ldankertson.com/roughhewn/?p=4260
Enjoy! And if you have a few extra minutes, take some time to look around her blog; the photos that come out of her camera and the thoughts that come out of her heart are just beautiful.

to know people by name

I've had this quote on my computer desktop for a couple months now. It's really challenging to me because of the two competing desires Nouwen identifies, the second is so much stronger in me. The ministry of presence makes me uncomfortable. When you're just chilling with someone from a totally different background, you don't know what to expect. You don't know what is normal to them, you're clumsy at loving them, and it takes so much energy. It's scary and it's hard. I wouldn't do it if I hadn't been first loved.

I am praying that God will fill me with love for my neighbors, and will give me the ability and courage to communicate that love to them in ways that are truly meaningful to them.

More and more, the desire grows in me simply to walk around, greet people, enter their homes, sit on their doorsteps, play ball, throw water, and be known as someone who wants to live with them. It is a privilege to have the time to practice this simple ministry of presence. Still, it is not as simple as it seems.

My own desire to be useful, to do something significant, or to be part of some impressive project is so strong that soon my time is taken up by meetings, conferences, study groups, and workshops that prevent me from walking the streets. It is difficult not to have plans, not to organize people around an urgent cause, and not to feel that you are working directly for social progress. But I wonder more and more if the first thing shouldn’t be to know people by name, to eat and drink with them, to listen to their stories and tell your own, and to let them know with words, handshakes, and hugs that you do not simply like them, but truly love them.

Henri Nouwen

how to save a life

My mom linked me to this article recently, and I was surprised and impressed by it. It is noteworthy for its gentle, but unflinchingly honest, portrayal of the messiness of humans, even those who we idealize. I am the first to instinctively put survivors of oppression on a pedestal: noble, strong, exalted beacons of what humanity should be in the face of despicable evil. But the truth of who humans are is far more complicated.

This article tells the story of a fiery young Afghan woman who fled to the U.S. after suffering mutilation at the hands of her husband and in-laws. Her face was chosen to grace the cover of Time magazine, and she became an icon of oppressed Afghan women. But this story focuses not so much on Aesha, but on the caseworkers, counselors, and teachers who have poured their hearts into helping the young woman, and reveals that caring for a real person like Aesha is far more difficult, frustrating, messy, draining, and unglorious than we would like to think. I commend it to you.

http://www.cnn.com/interactive/2012/05/world/saving.aesha/?hpt=hp_c2

what happens when the WHOLE kennedy fam goes on vacation?

Day 1 goodness:

How many buddies does it take to paint one set of toenails?


Hangin wit my homies...


Walkin down to the pool with Grandpa.


Finishing up the evening with the Jesus Storybook Bible? Yes please.