Flapping in the Breeze

OK, so I started exercising.  At the beginning of the summer I began going to a nearby park with a nice track and a shady trail.  I walked around it a few times, pouring sweat, more due to the 98 degree temperatures than the amount of exertion.  I even built up to a slow jog.  Took my husband with me one day and by the second time around we had collided and I fell and sprained my ankle. 

I spent the next 2 weeks on the couch with ice on my ankle (not easy with a 2 year old and 4 kids).  2 months later there's still some swelling.  Doesn't hurt to walk or even jog.   But bend it the wrong way?  Ouch!  And my Plantar Facitis won't go away.  Ugh.  Apparently 40 year old ankles and feet don't heal as fast as they used to.  Can I make a confession?  I was relieved!  Tony  kept telling me how that flat, shady track was not challenging me and if I really want to get in shape then I needed to come jogging with him in a nearby neighborhood with something like 90 degree angle hills.  Yeah, right!  So that sprained ankle delayed what I knew he'd talk me into doing at some point.

I wonder if God is punishing me with continued aches in that ankle since I so relished in not being able to exercise for a while.  Probably not but it makes my complaining justified in my mind.  So finally I went with him.  I barely made it one time around (maybe 1/2 - 3/4 mile) and by the time I got up the final GIGANTIC hill (I walked) I was gasping for breath so loudly I thought I was having some sort of attack.  My husband lightly jogs up, waits for me at the top jogging in place and says, "Another time around?"  Yeah right! 

 I was riding in the car the other day.  It was a beautiful fall day so we had the windows down and I'm wallowing in pride that we got up and jogged that morning.  I've built up to 3 times around (still only make it maybe 1/2 way up that blasted hill). Still no difference in my waistline or thighs though.  I'm holding on to the top of the door frame when I notice that in the rear view mirror I can see my upper arm actually flapping in the breeze.  I kid you not.  I stared in disbelief.  What is the deal?  That isn't supposed to happen until I'm at least 40!  Oh yeah, I'm 40 now.  Crap! 

So I start this internal dialogue with God.  "Why, if I'm exercising, isn't my body changing?  I mean it's been like a week!  What am I gonna have to do?  Commit to this exercise thing?  Actually lift some weights?  Go on a diet?"  God nudges me to quit having self pity.  "What is it you want from me?" I ask.  "Everything," He gently responds.  The smart alec in me offers up my first born, who I admit is having a teenagery type of day.  Silence. 

"OK God, so you want me to get serious about exercising?  I should really commit to more than just the occasional jog?"

"Nope.  I want everything." 

"I'm not getting it.  What are you talking about?  Joining a gym?" 

That's when I realized it wasn't my exercise routine He was getting at.  It was me.  "I want your heart and soul.  I want your trust and faith.  I want your doubts.   I want you to follow the road I have placed before your feet and trust that I will guide you.  I want you to KNOW that I love you and I believe you are beautiful.  I want your love.  I want your time. I created you.  You belong to me."

Oooo.  He had me until the word TIME.  I've been fighting with myself for ages.  I need to make myself get up early and spend quiet time reading the Bible and praying.  I need to make myself get up even earlier so I can also exercise.  I need to make myself get my life organized.  I need to make myself clean house.  The list goes on.  I'm perpetually late.  I procrastinate and then claim I work best under a deadline.    I pray on the fly and claim I talk to God all day long.  I memorize one Bible verse and try to make myself believe I'm "in" the Bible.  Yet I'm jealous of people who God's word just flows out of them.  I think I need to clean myself up before I come into God's presence. 

So what exactly do I have to do?  "Spend time with me.  I will lead you and guide you.  Just trust me.  But I want your time.  I want everything.  Start there and the rest will fall into place.  All the needs will be met.  The time will be supplied.  And I will do the cleaning up, not you." 

"OK, so here I am and my time is yours Lord.  That is my heart commitment.  Not sure how to get my body to follow through but I'll trust you to help me." 

So now I've put it out there for the 2 1/2 people who might read this, I'm God's girl.  I'm committing to Him.  Not just in words but in actions.  Doubt that means I will magically be waking up early to read my Bible every morning, but miracles could happen, ya know?  But it does mean that I'll be asking God to help me find time for worship each day and for the desire to spend it with Him.  The desire for His truth and His word.  And I'll be trusting Him to help me.  And I know He can take my faith, my seed of hope, and move mountains with it.