Runner

I call myself a runner.

This is of course a term I use loosely.  I run about twice a week and I enjoy it... so I call myself a runner.

Like many runners, my running frequency ebbs and flows with my desire, free time and the weather.  Not being the most athletic specimen on the planet (stop laughing), I can't just jump back into running 4 to 5 miles after a period of time where I haven't jogged at all.  In fact, that first run back is HARD.  I mean, after several months of not running, I can barely run a mile without stopping to catch my breath or stretch out some muscle that is tightening after having not been used in a while.  Not to mention that the next day will be ridden with soreness as I regret having not jogged sooner.

Just like running, we also can't just jump back into our walk with the Lord after having been without Him for a long while.  The training is a slow upward climb back into his arms.  Their is soreness as we stretch back into a routine.  With each step, we get closer and we feel the warmth comforting us and His arms welcoming us home.  All Christians ebb and flow in their desire to seek the Lord, the free time that they have to spend in His Word and the seasons of life that push and pull us in different directions.  He is so constant... even when we aren't.  Our walk with the Lord isn't made up of short sprints and it isn't a race to finish before other Christians... it's a marathon... and He's gonna run it with us!

Beauty in the Hills

Mills College, Oakland, CA, March 2010

I lift up my eyes to the hills where does my help come from?
My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth -Psalms 121:1

The Fight

I swing around with such a force,
I'm knocked onto the ground,
Searching for a breath of air,
My heartbeat the only sound.

He knows my every weakness,
From jealousy to pride,
Embarrassed of the things I've done,
My thoughts I try to hide.

He sits upon my shoulder,
To taunt and push me down,
He tells me that I'll gain so much,
Yet hurt is all I've found.

Dear Lord, I need you on my team,
For it's battle that I face,
I feel I can't keep fighting him,
He has me in an embrace.

With fists held up, I'm ready Lord,
I'm moving toward what's real,
To fight for love that deeper than,
Any earthly joy I feel.

The fight is done, the bell has rung,
No longer will he win,
Oh Satan get away from me
And take with you my sin.

The Cup

As she neared the table she gazed across it's surface to see one solitary cup sitting in the table's center. The closer she got, she realized that the simple white foam cup had her name on it's side. But why? "What was it filled with?" she wondered.

All of a sudden the empty room filled with people who were shoving and pushing their way through the room without even taking notice to the table. With each person who entered, a cup appeared on the table, different names on each.  As she moved around the table in an attempt to somehow guard the cup and it's contents, something from behind her caused her footing to slip and she fell into the table bringing it crashing to the ground.  

As she pulled herself up, she looked over to see the cup... on its side... empty.

When you get knocked over in life, what spills out for all to see?  What do you fill your cup with? 

Ignored Call

As the playful tune rings from her purse, she digs to find the source of that familiar noise. Dig... dig... dig... yes! Finally in the depths of her purse, she is able to feel blindly for her small vibrating cell phone and pull it out of the abyss so that she can see who is calling. As she glances at the screen, she decides that she doesn't have time to take the call, and she thinks nothing of pressing the "Ignore" button.

Whatever the reason may be... "I don't have time"... "I don't want to discuss what it is that he/she is calling about"... "I'll just let them leave a message, it will be easier"..."he/she wants something and I don't want to give it to them" We've all ignored a call... or two. We've all become so accessible with cell phones and yet, with that access and information comes more freedom to make a choice about whether we want to respond.

Sometimes I feel as if the Lord ignores my calls... I get down on my knees and with prayer and petition, pour out my heart... but I hear nothing, he doesn't answer. "Is the Lord ignoring me?" I say to myself.

The Lord is the almighty, all knowing, and a wonderful listener... he hears ALL of our prayers, and with his vast knowledge that is beyond our understanding he will answer all of our prayers. Sometimes the answer is "yes"... sometimes it is "no"...and so often he says "not now". He never ignores our calls... he is merely waiting to answer until the time is PERFECT acording to his most perfect plan for our lives.

Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us. Ephesians 3:20

Are you there God? It's me, AimClaim.

China Town, San Francisco, March 2010

Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him; do not fret.  Psalms 37:7

Sacrifice

Mighty God of sea and sky,
You are so great and still I try
To live a life so you can see
My heart reflects a love for thee.

I have so much and still I want,
Why does my selfish heart still taunt.
You gave the perfect gift to me
So help me give some back, I plea.

I don't need riches, jewels or pearls,
I don't need much, I'm just a girl.
What can I give that's good enough
So I rely on you to be so tough.

You ask me to follow, to leave it all,
But day after day, another fall.
I let you down and keep what's mine
When I forget that it is all your time.

I give you my heart, but not in whole,
If I keep hold,  I'll have some control.
When I look close the thing I find,
Is Satan's grip making me blind.

Mighty God of sea and sky,
Fall on my knees and to you I cry,
Take it all so that I will be,
A living sacrifice to thee.

With what shall I come before the LORD and bow down before the exalted God? Shall I come before him with burnt offerings, with calves a year old? He has showed you, O man, what is good. And what does the LORD require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.  Micah 6:6&8

Hidden Fake Foods

With the latest health food crazes, you've seen the labels...  "all natural",  "low fat",  "no carbs", "low sugar", or maybe "no trans fat".  What does that mean.  I used to trust these labels, assuming that there was no way that the food industry could get away with calling something healthy if it wasn't at all... boy was I wrong.  When you actually flip it over and look at the list of ingredient after ingredient of unknown fake products, you will realize that what is being advertised as healthy is actually jam packed with chemicals, additives, preservatives and sugars.   

We as Chrstians do the same thing... we slap a label on ourselves so that we look good in the eyes of others... "reads her Bible",  "helps others",  "doesn't curse or swear", "goes to church"... but what is really inside?  Is it real?  or fake?  Why are we so afraid to let others see our weakness, to see what the Lord is really doing in our hearts... to see when we fall.  Are we afraid of being judged?  Afraid that we aren't good enough?  Afraid to fall?  Afraid if we do that that we might need the help of another to get back up?

What do you advertise?

Cheap Flattery

As a teacher, I have learned to be very tolerant (notice I didn't say patient).  Well, even teachers have buttons.  Our goal is to make sure that those buttons are never revealed to our students... because they WILL push them!  So, while this probably began innocently enough, one of my students started commenting on how I looked as I came in the door for school each morning.  On the 4th or 5th morning in a row of hearing him say "Mrs. AimClaim, you look beautiful this morning", I finally snapped.  "No I DO NOT Billy!  When you say that every morning, it loses it meaning and just becomes rude.  Essentially you are telling me that I don't look beautiful."  He kind of just stood there with open jaw for a second and then he smirked as he realized the red flashing button that he had just discovered.

While Billy still continues to push my flashing red button at least once or twice a week,  God has revealed something important to me through this annoying interaction... The Lord doesn't appreciate cheap flattery any more than I do.  He wants real worship... not fake worship.  When I go to church out of obligation... I am a faker.  When I pray a recited prayer... I am a faker.  When I sing a praise song without even processing what the words mean... I am a faker.  Not only am I a faker,  I make the Lord angry with my insincerity.  The longer I feed him cheap flattery, the genuine flattery loses its meaning.  In Psalm 138:1 it says "I will praise thee with my whole heart: before the gods will I sing praise unto thee."  He doesn't want me to praise him with some of my heart, or half of my heart or even alot of my heart... he wants me to worship with the WHOLE DANG THING!

My God deserves that kind of praise... doesn't yours?

Champion

What makes a champion?
Is it the three tiered stand
Gold metal around his neck
And flowers in his hand.

What makes a champion?
Crossing the finishing line
With a scream of success
making it in record time.

What makes a champion?
Endurance to keep on
No matter what the challenge
Or what you happen upon.

What makes a champion?
Is it the goals that are set,
To be the best at it all
Taking every challenge they get.

What makes a champion?
What sets them apart?
Do strength or speed matter?
Or do you just need heart.

The Gardener

With pruning shears in hand, the gardener emerged from his garden shed. He shivered as the cold of winter hit his face. These cold dark months were sad for him as he longed and hoped for the growth that comes in the Spring. As he approached slowly, he stopped first to observe the vine before him. He had known this would happen, but he was saddened by the way some of the branches had become so weak and frail as they shot out from the vine in so many directions.

He was strong and yet gentle, swift and yet careful as he slowly purged the deadwood from the vine. With each crack, the gardener removed the branches that bore no fruit. They were lifeless with little purpose and dropped to the ground without much effort. After the dead branches were gone, the gardener moved on to his next task. With more difficulty, the gardener sniped his sheers at the live branches, cutting them back. To the ignorant, this pruning may have seemed unnecessary, but he could see the plans that lay ahead.

Snip... snip... snip... his shears danced across the branches as he shifted his head from side to side to gain perspective for which branch needed to be pruned next. When finished, he stood back up to observe his work. As his eyes scanned from the the clippings that now lay on the ground up to the top of the vine, he took a moment to reflect. A small smile took over his face for what he knew in his heart... this pruning, while so painful, is the only way to bring fruit in the Spring.

I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful. You are already clean because of the word I have spoken to you. Remain in me, and I will remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me.
John 15:1-4

Resurgence of AimClaim

Man, it has been WAY too long since I posted on here. I feel the time is now right for me to make an resurgence, to dig down deep inside once again to put into words the claims and thoughts of my heart. When I started this blog back in November 2005 (oh my gosh, i can't even believe it was that long ago), I started with a simple entry that ended with this "My goal with this blog is not to claim what I think as truth... I aim to seek truth... to believe truth... to share truth... to love truth... to live truth." For over a year and a half, I expressed myself through poetry, analogies and stories and shared them for anyone who stopped by to share in my journey. Thanks to those who supported me and encouraged me during that time... I am forever grateful. Thanks for coming back to see an old friend. I can't promise I will be quite so frequent in my posting (because I no longer have the free time at work that I once did back in '05 and '06), so I will simply commit to being open to the work that the Lord will do in my heart.

The Lord claims my heart... AimClaim

Remembering Pat

With spunky hair and faded shirt,
Old coffee cup in hand,
She smoked out in the garage,
As she made her next art plan.

My aunt, she taught me of so much,
Encouraged me when young,
I learned of creativity,
And that art was always fun.

In Chicago, we drew the pigeons,
In New Mexico, we made cows,
But no matter where Pat was,
Artistic freedom, she allows.

The earth it was a special love,
She recycled everything,
Doing her part for years before
It was cool to say “I’m green”.

She never criticized,
Accepted all for who they were,
Unique made them more beautiful,
Those different, she’d prefer.

She was strong and independent,
Brave and gentle in her fight,
You're lucky if you knew her,
Inside you saw God's light.

No longer does illness hold her,
Heaven is her new start,
Cancer took her body,
But God still holds her heart.

For my precious Aunt Pat.
May she rest in peace... 11/7/07

Happy Blogiversary to Aim Claim!

Today is my first Blogiversary! For those of you who aren't really in touch with Blogger world and haven't heard that term before, it means that I have been blogging for a year now. Yup, that is right, I wrote my first blog entry on Nov 21, 2005. I can't believe it! It seems like just yesterday that Kpinion's amazing writing influenced me in such a way that I felt moved to start a blog. I needed an outlet. I needed a way to express the amazing things that God was doing in my heart and in my life.

As I write today, I realize how distant I have been lately... and I am sorry for that my friends. I really miss writing... both for me AND for those who enjoy reading what I write. I started a new job this past summer and ever since then, I just haven't really had the extra time during the day that I used to at my old job to put toward being introspective like I once did. I know that really isn't an excuse, because I still have a computer at home that I could use to post. I will try harder. I miss you AimClaim.

Anyway, I just wanted to post today to say thank you. Thank you to those of you who love and support me each and every day, to those who encourage me to use my God given talents to share and grow, and to my loving Father who lets me crawl up into His lap to reflect, love, and learn!

So... Happy Blogiversary Aim Claim!

Heavy

The heavy clouds that hang on me,
They weigh my shoulders down,
The highest highs, the lowest lows,
Please bring me back around.

The rain, it falls, to drench the soul,
The dry earth turns to mud,
I want to fix all that is wrong,
For all of those I love.

My cup flows over, blessings full,
It pours down to the ground,
Why can't I trade my cup for theirs,
The graciousness I've found.

Those who love me, give too much,
I don't give back enough,
To understand that nothing's free,
That life is always tough.

I pray for peace inside my soul,
I thank God for what's mine,
The reason for my blessed life,
My joy in Him I find.

A Father's Wrath

She cowered in fear under the stairs as she heard her father's large feet carry him up and downstairs looking for her. He was angry. REALLY ANGRY... and she knew that it was directed at her. He knew exactly where she was hiding, but instead of revealing her, he merely made his wrath known as she remained curled in a ball under the stairs thinking about her actions. A tear rolled down her face and onto the floor... she had let him down... she had broken his rules... she had broken his trust. She had known wrong from right and she knowingly chose the wrong. Walking in disobedience was dark, lonely, and most of all unsafe. She wished now that she had thought about the consequences of her actions, and about the pain that she would cause herself and others. The darkness consumed her as she sat alone on the cold concrete floor. "I'm sorry Dad" she whispered, and then she lowered her head into her lap and began to cry.

Just then, the small door opened and light poured into the small closet type room. Blinded by the light, all she could see were the arms of her father... reaching out to hold her... to love her... to protect her.

The same passion that left her father angry, was the intense love and compassion that he had for his precious child. She was lifted up and out of the darkness and into his lap. As the two sat, she nuzzled her head into his strong shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her, rocking her peacefully. "You are forgiven, child" he whispered back... "Love forgives."

Romans 2:5 But because of your stubbornness and your unrepentant heart, you are storing up wrath against yourself for the day of God's wrath, when his righteous judgment will be revealed.

The perfect gift.

It was the most beautiful package she had ever seen. The box was gold in color, with a shimmer that made you want to touch it. The ribbon, tied with such delicacy, seemed to float as it wrapped from the bottom of the box, up the sides and into the most perfect bow that sat on the very center of the top of the box. The bow was the deepest of red in color as it swooped along the box. As she neared the box, admiring its beauty, she realized that attached to the bow was a gold card. Her curiosity drew her in as she reached her hand out and opened the card to see who this lovely gift was for. Inside the card read...

My precious child I give you,
a gift you'll never see,
don't leave the ribbon tied,
it's the blood that's shed of me.

The box I give you holds,
A gift from me alone,
So open up the pretty box,
Your sins it will atone.

This gift, it is forever,
So don't forget its there,
Keep some of it for you,
The rest of it you share.

She smiled as she picked up the beautiful box, for she had realized that this most perfect gift was for her.... for her to open, for her to keep, for her to share, and for her to LOVE. God's most perfect gift was for HER.

9-11

Bravery is fighting for something you believe in.
Bravery is serving your brother.
Bravery is loving even when you don't want to.
Bravery is putting others before yourself.
Bravery is continuing to pray for a hurting nation.
Bravery is standing for freedom.
Bravery is forgiving those who have done wrong.
Bravery is looking past fear and into the eyes of HOPE.

I am proud to be from a country that continues to stand strong and brave through the trials of tragedy and war.
To those who have lost, those who fight, and those who lead...
We remember September 11, 2001.

He waits.

He waited. Patiently. Quietly. Hoping that this time she would show up. They used to meet here every day, and for some reason she had just stopped coming lately. He wondered what kept her from coming. Was she too busy? Had she found somewhere else to go? Had she overslept? Did she just not want to spend time with him anymore? Needless to say, he was hurt, really hurt. He realized that he had been stood up. He had been stood up, and she wasn't coming today, or tomorrow, but he waited with the hope that she would come soon. He didn't leave. He waited...and waited...and waited.

She was busy. But not busy in the way that most people refer to busy, running around getting things done. No. She was busy in the "I'm not doing nothing, I'm just not doing something" kind of way...distant, occupied, and consumed with things that left her feeling empty. She didn't meet him today, she was busy.

He waits. Patiently. Quietly. Disappointed. Hoping that this time she will show up... Hoping that this time she will make time. Hoping that she will realize that he isn't going to meet her when she wants to show up, he is going to wait on her till she does. Patiently...quietly...lovingly...Fatherly...He waits with the unconditional love that only our Heavenly Father can give.

Strongest Dad in the World

[From Sports Illustrated, By Rick Reilly]
I try to be a good father. Give my kids mulligans.Work nights to pay for their text messaging.
But compared with Dick Hoyt, I stink.
Eighty-five times he's pushed his disabled son, Rick, 26.2 miles in marathons. Eight times he's not only pushed him 26.2 miles in a wheelchair but also towed him 2.4 miles in a dinghy while swimming and pedaled him 112 miles in a seat on the handlebars--all in the same day.
Dick's also pulled him cross-country skiing, taken him on his back Mountain climbing and once hauled him across the U.S. on a bike. Makes taking your son bowling look a little lame, right?
And what has Rick done for his father? Not much--except save his life.
This love story began in Winchester , Mass. , 43 years ago, when Rick was strangled by the umbilical cord during birth, leaving him brain-damaged and unable to control his limbs.
"He'll be a vegetable the rest of his life;'' Dick says doctors told him and his wife, Judy, when Rick was nine months old. "Put him in an institution.''
But the Hoyts weren't buying it. They noticed the way Rick's eyes followed them around the room. When Rick was 11 they took him to the engineering department at Tufts University and asked if there was anything to help the boy communicate. "No way,'' Dick says he was told. "There's nothing going on in his brain.''
"Tell him a joke,'' Dick countered. They did. Rick laughed. Turns out a lot was going on in his brain.
Rigged up with a computer that allowed him to control the cursor by touching a switch with the side of his head, Rick was finally able to communicate.
First words? "Go Bruins!'' And after a high school classmate was paralyzed in an accident and the school organized a charity run for him, Rick pecked out, "Dad, I want to do that.''Yeah, right. How was Dick, a self-described "porker'' who never ran more than a mile at a time, going to push his son five miles? Still, he tried.
"Then it was me who was handicapped,'' Dick says. "I was sore for two weeks.''
That day changed Rick's life. "Dad,'' he typed, "when we were running, it felt like I wasn't disabled anymore!''
And that sentence changed Dick's life. He became obsessed with giving Rick that feeling as often as he could. He got into such hard-belly shape that he and Rick were ready to try the 1979 Boston Marathon.
"No way,'' Dick was told by a race official. The Hoyts weren't quite a single runner, and they weren't quite a wheelchair competitor. For a few years Dick and Rick just joined the massive field and ran anyway, then they found a way to get into the race officially: In 1983 they ran another marathon so fast they made the qualifying time for Boston the following year.
Then somebody said, "Hey, Dick, why not a triathlon?''
How's a guy who never learned to swim and hadn't ridden a bike since he was six going to haul his 110-pound kid through a triathlon? Still, Dick tried.
Now they've done 212 triathlons, including four grueling 15-hour Ironmans in Hawaii . It must be a buzzkill to be a 25-year-old stud getting passed by an old guy towing a grown man in a dinghy, don't you think?
Hey, Dick, why not see how you'd do on your own? "No way,'' he says. Dick does it purely for "the awesome feeling'' he gets seeing Rick with a cantaloupe smile as they run, swim and ride together.
This year, at ages 65 and 43, Dick and Rick finished their 24th Boston Marathon , in 5,083rd place out of more than 20,000 starters. Their best time'? Two hours, 40 minutes in 1992--only 35 minutes off the world record, which, in case you don't keep track of these things, happens to be held by a guy who was not pushing another man in a wheelchair at the time."No question about it,'' Rick types. "My dad is the Father of the Century.''
And Dick got something else out of all this too. Two years ago he had a mild heart attack during a race. Doctors found that one of his arteries was 95% clogged. "If you hadn't been in such great shape,'' one doctor told him, "you probably would've died 15 years ago.''
So, in a way, Dick and Rick saved each other's life.
Rick, who has his own apartment (he gets home care) and works in Boston, and Dick, retired from the military and living in Holland , Mass., always find ways to be together. They give speeches around the country and compete in some backbreaking race every weekend, including this Father's Day.
That night, Rick will buy his dad dinner, but the thing he really wants to give him is a gift he can never buy.The thing I'd most like,'' Rick types, "is that my dad sit in the chair and I push him once."

Here's the video, get your tissues ready... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WjPrL3n63yg