THE RANDOMIZER STRIKES AGAIN . . .

Nan told me about a quarter-marathon (about six miles, apparently, right?) coming up, and invited me to run it with her husband and Jimbo. She, after all, can run actual half-marathons, if not an actual marathon. "Six miles," I thought, "I can totally do that." So I asked when this quarter-marathon would take place. "October," she replied. I was elated. after all, only I would relish having eight months to "train" for a quarter-marathon.

***

TinyCricket and I have begun 'firming up' our plans to head to London for a long weekend soon ... maybe in June or July or so. This is my dream come true. The accent. The tea. The clotted cream. The history. The churches. The British mentality and worldview. The irony. The literature. I can't wait. I am a bit worried about one small thing ... what if it's not all I imagined it would be, and more? What if I land in this place I have long considered my soul's home, and I discover that ... it sucks? That would be horrible.

***

I am finding it difficult to express myself these days. Even last night, hanging with the girls, there was so much I wanted to say, but every time I opened my mouth, nothing of any worth came out. Except for sighs. I was really full from eating continuously for an hour and a half, and I had to sigh periodically to relieve the pressure in my belly. I can't tell what my blockage is. It could be denial of the fact that I'm still unemployed and increasingly poor. It could be my brain having become dull from bordeom and lack of substantive activity. It could be fear that no one will understand me, or worse, that even my friends will shun me for being a little too weird, a little too intense, a little too not like them. It could be the laws of physics -- so much wanting to come out at one time, that only little droplets can be squeezed out through a limited-sized opening. I feel stifled, restless, unsatisfied, insecure.

***

I like to think that I'm a pretty well-adjusted and self-assured woman. And so, it surprises me to see myself be utterly insecure and completely disbelieving of people who would offer me uninhibited security. My disappointment in my own failings, the way I let people down, the way I misunderstand and misread folks, is so great at times, that I can't believe anyone would forgive me, or even think that there is nothing to forgive. I've lost count of how many times I've been told in the last two weeks that I'm too hard on myself, and that I take on faults and responsibilities that are not mine to carry. And so I wonder if it's some sort of sickness, that I carry these things and place these burdens on my shoulders when they don't belong there. Or are my friends lying to me? Are they just being nice and telling me falsehoods to make me feel better? Grace and unfailing love ... such difficult things to understand and accept ...

***

TiVO and DVR are great, great inventions. At the Alien's Spaceship last night, we were all over the crashes and the wipeouts in the downhill skiing and the snowboard-cross events. If people were in the kitchen or the bathroom and missed the sight, even better! "Rewind! Rewind! I wanna see the wipeout!" We watched Lindsey Jacobellis -- showoff -- wipe out over, and over, and over, and over again. And each time, our groans got louder, more dramatic, more emotional, more angry. "Oh." "Oh!" "Ohhhh!" "OHHHHH!" "OOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAARGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!" And of course, "SHOW IT AGAIN!" We are sick, sick people.

***

I crave the company of my friends these days. I think I need my insecurities to be alleviated, and since I can't do it for myself, I need my friends to do it for me. I need someone to laugh at my jokes. I need someone to hear my stories. I need someone to give me advice, a chuckle, a knowing smile. I need someone to exchange witty repartee with. I need someone to tell me about her life. I need someone to eat with, play with, watch TV with, snuggle under a blanket with. I need someone to be in the same room with me to make me feel sane and warm and welcome and real.

***

I love team relay sports. They make me feel warm and fuzzy inside. I like to imagine the affection and reliance and trust that flows between and among the team members, the unspoken words that pass easily from mind to mind, the reality of all-for-one-and-one-for-all being lived out in training, dining, exercising, maintaining a lifestyle. I often think of my spiritual life as a team relay. I understand that any relationship with Christ is personal and individualized. But without my church, my small group, my girls, my deacons, my co-leaders, where would I be? If Christianity was an individual life-sport, then who would catch me when I fell or tripped or injured myself? Who would nurse me back to health, who would run a little harder and faster for me to make up for lost time, who would put me back on the right diet and training regimen? Who would give me that hard push, like in the speed-skating relays, that I need to get into the right rhythm, at the right speed? Who would I slap high-fives with at the end? I think that's what I crave -- not just the company of my friends, but teammates. I crave the feeling of relying on my team, of loving them and being loved by them, of trusting them and being trusted by them for the purpose of staying alive. This craving ... it's like a big lion's roar building inside me, waiting to come out. Who are my teammates who will respond to this roar?