The Hot Date.

Got your attention, huh?  A stop at Tiffany's followed by an elegant dinner.  My date?  My own mom :)

The conversation went something like this:

Me: "So how are you feeling about me going overseas?"

Mom: "I'm worried."

[I relax.  No overreaction here.]

Mom: "I'm afraid your isolating yourself."

Me: "But mom, I'm an introvert anyways..."

[Okay, not the best answer, but hey...]

Mom: "I'm afraid your emotional needs won't be met."

Me: "My inner world is actually quite fulfilling..."

[I wasn't intending my answers to sound all lone ranger...but now they do when I type them out...]

Mom: "Aren't you afraid of being lonely?"

Me: "You're being vague, mom.  What do you mean?"

Mom: "I just want you to have a companion in life."

[Aha...so the indirectness finally is spelled out.  She's concerned about me being single...]

Me: (In my head) "I love my mom." 

Mom: "You don't know what it's like to be a mother..."

[Nope, I don't, but I pray that one day I will.]

The Return.

Of what, you ask?  The return of life back to the grind.  Of moving from a spiritual high to the reality of daily life.  Funny, both WCC and my marathon seem an eternity ago now.  I promised a WCC entry awhile back, and I'm now going to make good on my promise...

WCC was huge for me this year.  I tend to use 'huge' rather liberally, usually to refer to something big, important, significant....you get the point.  I knda chuckle when I reflect on my first conference five years back.  My fiirst WCC was during my senior year in college.  Naive, I stepped into a world that would soon become a provision of encouragement, and successively good butt kicks (no elegance in that description).  My thoughts at that first WCC were that I wanted to go home.  I really didn't know why I was there.

But it's five years later, and we fast forward through Sherise's life, to the place where she's at today...still insecure and unsure of herself, but with a greater sense of her worth in Christ.  It was that realization, during Jimmy's message on Saturday morning, that broke me down to tears.  Oh how great God's heart for His people truly is!  He is the God who truly cares.  And it is Christ in us, the Hope of Glory.  I had been forewarned by tchia before the plenary session that the video Jimmy was going to show would be a tearjerker.  I didn't think much of it, neither did I think much of it when the the tissue box was prematurely passed around.

The video was of Dick and Rick Hoyt.  Dick, father to the cerebral palsy sticken Rick, entered the both of them in the Ironman triathalon.  How was this possible?  Only through the father.  Dick pulled his son on a raft for the swim portion, rode with his son attached to the front end of his bike, and then ran the final full marathon with his son in a racing wheelchair.  Rick didn't do a thing. The analogy is pretty obvious.  Only God the Father is more perfect than Dick and I am more retarded than Rick.  And of course, my marathon was foremost in my mind.  I was desparately searching for the tissue at that point.  After the session, the well-intending person next to me asked if there was anything she could pray for me about.  I guess I looked like a wreck.  She, oddly enough, was quite composed.  Later on I realized that I had cried my contact out of my eye.  And I just thought I was seeing blurry from all the tears!  (So if you happened to catch a glimpse of me after that session and I was blinking at you, I didn't mean anything by it...really...)

I wasn't prepared for all the heart wrenching stuff that early in the conference.  Not only was that type of stuff early, but it was a consistent theme throughout.  The next session on faith and faithfulness also did a number on me.  "Sovereignty and response creates our destiny."  And the tears of realizing that if I want to know God's will, I have to lay mine down.  All the post-college struggle of "What do you want of my life, Lord?" all came to a head.  I cried out my past hurts, struggles, and sacrifices.  Thankfully those tears were assured by my neighboring sis, who sat by me during that session and prayed for me (note to self: sit next to someone you know during these sessions!).   

The next morning's session on God's Church was empowering.  Are we people who are unapologetic about the gospel?  Do we (I) take seriously the call of God?  Ephesians 3:10 was like a new verse for me.  Jimmy's final message centered on the practical--"How Then Shall We Live?"  It was a message on the basics of spiritual disciplines...how the Word of God must be built up within us so that we may face up to anything.  I realize that sometimes I have these visions of grandeur, but am sorely absent in the whole seeking God department.  From this message came practical applications for me:

1. Getting up early each morning to pray and read God's Word.  Doesn't Sherise do this already?  Nope.  Early morning is a rather ungodly hour for me, but I am determined to make it sacred. (3 weeks later, by grace, this goal is holding fast)

2. Getting into a discipleship relationship. I suck at this, too.  That is, in the area of being intentional about these relationships.  I realize that there are 2 people very near and dear to me that I want to invest my life into--MF and SL.  Thankfully, they want to meet with me, too.  And so far, I feel the most blessed from our times together.     

3. Preachin' it.  What I mean is being bold for Christ, including in the classroom.  I now pray over my class roster before class and make the choice to surrender my students to the Lord.  And I've already found opportunity to 'preach it' in all ways that I'm allowed. 

I feel like I've only described a tidbit of WCC.  Perhaps more thoughts will manifest itself in later entries.

The reason why I've dubbed this entry "The Return," is because having experienced/realized all of this, I am now called to live it out.  And it's so gosh darn hard!  I'm struggling against every battle of my will to face each day and claim it for Christ.  My first run after my marathon illustrates this point most powerfully.  I ran for the first time in almost 2 weeks this past weekend.  I ran 4.5 miles, the loop around Lake Merced that I've ran many times over, only this time I just wasn't having it.  I was tired, wanting to quit, and questioning myself.  Dude Sherise, you just ran a marathon, what's a peasly 4.5 miles?

Well, those 4.5 miles ain't peasly.  It's the dailyness of life that real joys are found, and real gains of faith are made (this I quote from Alistair Begg). 

Lest you think I've pulled out of this whole marathon thing, you're wrong.  I'm still running...at times stumbling...yet still running...

My Week By the Numbers

Crying students in my office: 2

Days I wore flip-flops to work: 1

Birthdays celebrated this week: 6 (Happy B Day Erin, Harmonie, Mat, Helen, Mel, Tham!)

Chai tea latte's from Starbucks: 2

Students who received a 'strong' talking to: 2

Miles logged from running: 0 (!)

Impulsive buys: 2 (think irresistable tenderloin kids selling candy...)

Week nights that I had free: 1

Hours of class taught: 6

Ice cream/gelato/popsicles: 4

Marathon Log.20.   Miles logged: 26.2 miles (!)

"I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith." 2 Timothy 4:7

Those words certainly take new meaning as I bask in the reality that I have completed this marathon. To give you an adequate portrait of the final leg of my marathon journey, here's the play-by-play:

4:00am--Race day. I wake up to the beeping sound of my defunct-pager-turned-travel-alarm. The day has finally come! 

From my journal:

"Reminders of your faithfulness surging through my heart, giving me hope for this day.  Praise the Lord, O my soul; all my inmost being, praise his holy name. May you receive the glory, honor, and praise with every step and breath I take." 

5:30am--Hotel lobby.  In full marathon attire complete with a plastic garbage bag to keep away the rain, we descend to join the sea of other AIDS marathoners.  I scan the crowd for my pace group, and finally locate them.  They are surprised that I'm here.  I have missed a lot of the recent training due to my injury and have been running on my own.  Today I rejoin them.

5:45am--Poydras Street.  We walk out under the still black cover of night to the starting line at the Superdome.  It's lightly raining.  Just the day before thunderstorms (at times severe) were forecast.  We arrive at the Superdome to an interesting quiet.  Everyone is tense, nervous--wondering what the pre-race protocol is.  I wind up using the bathroom twice.

6:45am--Sugar Bowl Drive.  The energy builds as the countdown begins.  I jump around to warm up.  My left leg is sore from walking the streets the two days before.  I can barely tiptoe without it feeling tender.  But everyone is excited.  The crowd inches forward as the start time nears.  I remove my (now fashionable) garbage bag and crumple it in my hand.  The rain is letting up.

7:00am--Official start.  The beginning of what would be nearly 5 hours to the finish line.  Pace groups jostle for position.  A small crowd sends us off.  We start slow, holding ourselves back knowing we have a long road ahead.  I'm feeling good.  The first mile marker comes quickly.  One down!  After 3 miles I begin to get hungry.  Maybe I should have stopped for those beignets when I passed them at Mile 2.  I carefully think when I should pop my first energy gel.  It feels a little too early.  The city is still sleepy, and only a few onlookers line the streets.  We finally hit our first cheering section at Mile 4--it proves to be a timely boost of energy.  I love the crowds!

Mile 4 allows the first glimpse of the front runners of the pack.  They look like race horses, with a steady gallop to their legs.  I go back to running my own race and focus on the slight incline that is next on my path (the only incline in what otherwise is a flat course). 

I see WK as we begin a series of two loop arounds.  We smile and wave.  I'm still feeling good, and grateful that my injury has not at all been an issue.  I realize prayers are being answered, and it's a wonderful thing to experience His care.  Somewhere between here and Mile 10 I pass WK unknowingly.  I see her at Mile 10 and she passes me up.  I eventually lose sight of her.

9:30am--Back at the Superdome.  I arrive at the halfway mark 2 hours and 25 minutes into the race.  The pack splits as some complete what they have come here to do--13 miles.  I still need to the finish the second half.  A few miles down at Mile 17 finds me running all alone.  My pace group has split up.  I still feel strong though this now marks my longest distance ever.  A 58-year old man commends my steadiness.  I see ML and not far after, WK.  They later say that I looked strong at that point.  The second half of Audobon Park is my nemesis.  Now on my own, each mile marker seems further and further apart.  Finally, I hit the wall at Mile 22.  My legs feel like they come up from under me.  I begin to cry out and almost too appropriately I see the Phil.4:13 sign that I have passed twice before.  This time I pump my fist in the air and shout "I can do all things through Christ," surprising the people holding the sign.  I regain feeling in my legs.

All along my attitude has been to focus on Christ.  I find when I run I can only comprehend thoughts of the uncomplicated variety.  So simple worship songs fill my heart.  And if nothing else, I remind myself, "to God be the glory."  And if I can't muster an encouragement to others, I maintain a smile.  It's odd, but I find myself to be more extraverted on this day, cheering other runners on and generously doling out the high-fives.

The last five miles are still excruciating and feel entirely too lonely.  My legs feel like bricks as I begin to wonder if the race organizers have played a cruel joke by forgetting the mile markers.  I shrink back, resorting to more walk breaks.  But each successive walk break makes it harder to restart.  I start rehearsing the apology I would give to WK and ML for having to wait for me for so long.

I'm in the middle of a battle to finish.  The Superdome is nowhere in sight.  Instead my only view is a huge Macy's sign.  Someone tells me I'm almost there.  It doesn't feel like it. After what seems an eternity I run up the final ramp and turn into the Superdome.  I see the finish line and I sprint with newfound energy.  I don't remember my name being called, but I do remember a wave of emotion well up from my soul.  I want to cry, but I stop myself.  The finisher's medal is placed around my neck as I savor the moment.

"Surely this is my God-I trusted in him and he saved me.  This the LORD, I trusted in him..." Isaiah 25:9    

Click here to see my march to the finish line!

* IT IS FINISHED! *

I'm fresh off the plane from New Orleans...too tired to xanga the experience at the moment, but just so that I don't keep you in suspense, click here to check out my results.  Enter "1410" as the bib number.

I don't think words can adequately describe finishing this thing.

A million thanks for all your sustaining prayers and encouragement...more later!

Here I Go!

It's finally here...with WCC only a couple of days behind me I'm headed to New Orleans for my marathon!

(Stay tuned for Sherise's take on WCC05...I promise you'll cry your eyes out...if not, I already did...)

Please pray for my endeavor (along my two cohorts, ML and WK).  Pray that Scripture may richly flow through our veins as we march to the finish line.

Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we can ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in all the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen!  Ephesians 3:20

Victory!

Marathon Log.20.  Miles logged: 8 miles

I sometimes get invariably deep during these entries so as to remind myself who I am not.  And I end up surprising myself in realizing who I am...not.

A new who-I-am-not:

I am not immune to feelings.  Well, okay, "duh!" some of you are thinking.  What person isn't?  I suppose I should clarify in saying that I think I can come off as pretty composed and together, but inside I'm a mess of emotions and feelings.  One of my best friends calls me intimidating (because I seem so put together), to which I guffaw and think, "if they only see what God sees..."

Take the example of Sherise the teacher.  I'm so petrified before I start class that I'll shuffle my papers nervously at my desk (to appear busy) and avoid eye contact until I know that classtime has officially begun.  During class, thoughts that run through my head include "oh my goodness, I am such a dork...I'm boring these students to sleep!"  Or "dude, i must be the worst teacher in the world...that kid just rolled his eyes at me!" 

I just want to be liked, c'mon!

What else? Well, this past weekend I was sitting in a church meeting.  Nothing unusual about that.  Having served in various ministries, a meeting is just a meeting.  However, it had a very unusual turn of events which ended up seeing me burst out in tears in the middle of it.  Unlike tears of me responding to God's presence which I've written about as of late, they were tears of frustration.  I've never had to persuade a point so passionately that tears have come out.  I was so embarrassed!  [don't worry, by grace, it was all good by meeting's end]

It surprised me that my feelings were out of control.

So, how to tie this into running?  I casually say that I ran 8 miles this weekend as if I do this in my sleep.  But it was a hard run.  Most people respond with a hey-i-can't-even-run-a-mile response.  But those 8 miles--whoo boy--they ain't no walk in the park.  I was feeling it--bottled up emotions--telling me that I wasn't going to make it very far.  I finished my run feeling pretty God-less, trying to deal with what all of this running is for. 

Lots of emotions coming down the pike less than 2 weeks from my marathon.  Ack!

Marathon Log.19.  Miles logged: 17 miles

I have bested my longest distance!  I wish I could have said that I bested it by running 20 miles, or even the full 26 which is where the training program has taken us to this point.

But I finished 17, and I am proud of each mile of it. 

Been thinking today about what makes a champion--watching the Super Bowl had something to do with it.  Congrats to the New England Patriots, who won their third championship in four seasons.  As the saying goes, that's the stuff legends are made of. 

But what does it take to get there?  I'm realizing that in training for this marathon, it takes gosh darn hard work.  I didn't run with the rest of the AIDS marathon participants this weekend, but I heard that they passed out medals for finishing the 26.  And well deserved, too--as you can see from these marathon logs of mine, training for this hasn't been a piece of cake.

I want a medal.  I want to finish this thing and bask in the realization of accomplishing this goal of mine.  It must feel good, too, as I was thinking when I watched Deion Branch hoist the Super Bowl trophy over his head.  It is good to win. And it also can't hurt to be the MVP.

I'm holding out for the best reward, however:

"So do not throw away your confidence; it will be richly rewarded.  You need to persevere so that when you have done the will of God, you will receive what he has promised."  Hebrews 10:35

Oh, and a * special * shout-out to my loving dad, who faithfully rode his bike while I motored through my 17 miles.  I must have the best dad in the world.

20 days to go.

To support my marathon endeavor, please click here.

Marathon Log.18.  Miles logged: 3.1 miles

So I'm 26 now.  One over the dramatic quarter of a century mark.  Also the exact distance of miles of this upcoming marathon.  It couldn't be more perfectly planned.

I thought I would take issue with being closer to 30 than 20, but I'm okay (please, no snide remarks as to this :)  In fact, as I look at where I am in life, I'm such a different person than, say, my early twenties.

A lot of life seems to happen in your twenties.  I thought I was ready to hit the ground running when at age 21 I was starting to manage my own marketing campaigns at my first ever job.  Little did I know!  Now at 26 with more of life behind me, I seem to know myself better.

I love when in running you get to these points where you're totally coasting.  You enjoy these points because you realize that yeah, you've worked hard to get here.  You're almost unstoppable because you feel like you can run forever.  Now, don't get me wrong--I'm not exactly at this point in my training.  The reality of my injury is still all too fresh.  But I have been able to enjoy glimpses of it, where I'm loving how my arms and legs partner in stride--without much thought as to the physical exertion.

I could say that I'm there in life as well.  After all, I am a full-fledged grown-up now (snicker, snicker) with no real benchmarks to look forward to until perhaps age 40.  At age 26 I finally have the stability that I've craved.  A job I love (even with a recent promotion), a steady group of friends, and a just a general groove to life. 

I love this groove.  I have plenty of good things laid up for me.  I can take life easy; eat, drink, and be merry.

But that storehouse is but temporary.  Not to say that being able to coast or enjoy a nice groove isn't good, but I realize there are things more lasting.  And at 26 I'm loosening that grip on what I know feels good at the moment. 

"For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."

Other (Humorous) Things to Note at 26.

Oh where is my hairbrush?!?  I literally could have busted out the Veggie Tales song as I desperately searched for my hairbrush on my birthday.  Memory lapse?  I'd say so.

What? Your metabolism slows?!?  So I managed to gain 3 pounds in one day last week.  That's a lot for someone who boasts that she can eat and eat without gaining weight.  * Sigh *

Marathon Log.17.  Miles logged: 4.5 miles (x 2)

My Sleek Timex Ironman watch and I are conjoined at the wrist.  Literally. (This after a rocky start to our relationship--check out Marathon Log.03)  This watch is my constant run companion, so much so that I'm lost without it. It reminds me when to start and stop running (according to the run/walk ratio that we train with).  It does so with a chime that repeats itself twice, just in case you didn't hear it the first time.

Now, as you can imagine, this chime is starting to get a little annoying.  Over time I have been conditioned much like Pavlov's dogs, only instead of salivating I either run or walk when hearing the chime.

[I just know this chime is going to haunt me for a good while after this marathon training is over.]

Sometimes when things are automatic to us we get to be rigid to the point where we can't really see beyond what we're used to.  For today's run I decided to run along the scenic Great Highway, which hugs the good 'ol California coastline and provides a most gorgeous ocean view.  Now, running along this path is nothing new.  It's a route that we often run in training.  However I decided today to poke my head up and take in the scenery. I was decidedly blown away by its beauty.

There is beauty innate in our Savior.  Seek Him out and realize, wow, how great is He?  How easily I forget when I just plug away at what I do.  I desire to take more time out to revel in this. 

For everyone who responds on a dime to the incessant chimes in their lives, break free!  We were meant for better things.