Public Service Announcement

Two posts in a week!  It's summer; can you tell?

Some of the best "duh" moments I've had originated in Blogland or on Pinterest.  While my pin boards and favorites tabs have their share of clutter, I've picked up quite a few tips and tricks that have helped our lives run more smoothly in some area or another.

So, in the spirit of the practical post, I'm sharing a long-time favorite with you.

I used to be a daily exerciser.  I am not athletic at all, and the 5:00 a.m.  two-mile walk represented enormous self-discipline on my part.

This past year, life got bumpy in the way that it does, and my habit bit the dust.

I'm trying to restart it, but this last back episode has made this a slow process.  In the midst of injury drama, however, I have a faithful exercise buddy.

Leslie Sansone.

For the record, she doesn't know me from Adam's house cat, and this isn't a sponsored post.  I just like her Walk-at-Home program at lot, and she's become my go-to exercise solution in health or injury.

Walk at Home is just what you think it is.  You walk at home in your living room or wherever you have space to spread out a little.  Pop in the DVD and follow along.  There are no fancy steps, a bonus for people like me who still don't know their left from their right.  Any equipment is either optional or included with the DVD.  Even though I rarely go the whole distance (hello, who has time?), I prefer the longer-mile options (4-5 miles) because the pace tends to be faster, but if you're new to exercise, beginner, shorter versions are available.  

Some exercise gurus are too perky (Denise Austin) or just plain mean (Jillian Michaels; I have to mute her.).  Leslie is neither. She's pleasant and funny and cues well.  I like the sessions when she has a group of walkers with her; the interaction is distracting in a good way, and it makes jumping around the living room by myself seem less weird, somehow. ;)  

Admittedly, my girls think she's exercise for old people--and since I can modify the workouts when I'm moving like an old person post-injury, that might be fair to some extent.  However, I discovered Leslie post-DD#2 when I was 15 years younger, too poor for gym fees and juggling an infant and toddler, so I was too frazzled for fancy workouts.  

And you can do sidesteps and refill Cheerios at the same time. 

I do supplement her workouts with Pilates, a necessity for middle age and weak backs.  Another day I'll share my favorite instructors for those sessions. 

This concludes today's Public Service Announcement.  Regularly scheduled (such as it is) will resume shortly.  Now I need to get up and um, exercise.  

Happy Wednesday!

Following, 

Ginger

Three Word Wednesday/ Works for Me Wednesday

Mighty and Mundane

The Dreaded Triumvirate: February, March, and April.

Imagine you're slogging through a snowstorm, icy wind in your face, drifts in your path.  Then suddenly you step off the edge of a cliff into a raging waterfall.  You tumble downward, grasping for anything to slow your fall.  You're drowning in the rapids.  ( That's state testing, if you're lost in the melodramatic metaphor. )

Then, just as you catch your breath and think you might breathe again,  you discover you're trapped in a whirlpool.  ( That's May and endess days of post-planning.)

Hyperbole aside, we're halfway through the worst stretch of the school year--

the point in the year where I--and consequently, this blog--get boring and lame.

I could wax eloquent about standardized testing,

or complain about students,

or bemoan life surrounded by teenagers in the throes of hormonal meltdowns.

I could talk about birthdays and flourless chocolate cakes and dinners with friends.

How about endless winter or meatloaf recipes?

I could write about John's gospel, and Christ's deity, and Living Water, and the untroubled heart.

Mighty and mundane side by side, juxtaposed in my year-older brain.

And it's March.

Following,

Ginger

Linking at Three-Word Wednesday

Three Word Wednesday: Not Feeling It

It would be grossly unfair for me to call this last few weeks a hard eucharisteo.

So, forgive me; I teach middle school and I have teenage girls, so let's chalk it up to the company I keep.

(Or my natural propensity for drama...that could be it. Maybe.)

In the real, no-kidding hard eucharisteo moments, when the pain is breathtaking, it's almost as if I'm searching for gifts under a microscope.  I'm desperate for hope, desperate for Jesus to heal--

and the small becomes Divine.

Then there are days (like today)

 when busy and tired and discouraged are duking it out for Adjective of the Day, 

and my brain is like so much mashed potato, 

and I can't see any gifts because I'm not looking.

Those days I'm looking for a little drama.

The warm bowl of oatmeal with toasted almonds and cranberries doesn't have enough pizazz

 (and besides, haven't I written that down already?)

In John's gospel, there are lots of folks looking for a little more action.

Water to wine? Yesterday's news.

Bread for thousands? Yeah...but what have You done for us lately?

So Jesus calls their bluff.

How about what you really want need?

How about Living Water, Bread of Life, New Wine?

Only, you don't just consume it; It consumes you.

The Lord tells His people,

"Be still and know that I am God."

(and...we stop there because that's all that fits on a coffee mug or a wall plague.)

and we I miss the last part:

"I will be exalted among the nations; I will be exalted on the earth."

That should be enough drama for anybody.

So my list of gifts grows by (a very, very, super-exciting, uber-important) one:

244. His Name is exalted in all the earth.

Amen.

Following,

Ginger

Three Word Wednesday

Three-Word Wednesday: Amazed by Bread

Lately I've been studying the gospel of John.

He has a lot to say about the signs Jesus gave that He is Who He said He is.

Miracles, we'd call them.

Years ago, I heard a preacher talk about a college professor who doubted the miracles recorded in the Bible were true.

His reasoning?  Those things can't really happen.

To which the preacher replied, "Duh. That's why it's a miracle."

Indeed.

Yet, this week I am struck by Augustine's commentary on Jesus's signs and wonders.  He wrote, 

"For certainly the government of the whole world is a greater miracle than the satisfying of five thousand men with five loaves; and yet no man wonders at the former, but the latter men wonder at, not because it is greater, but because it is rare.  For who even now feeds the whole world, but He Who creates the cornfield from a few grains?"

While I marvel at the feeding of 5000, I should also marvel at the bread.

Isn't it true?  

Consider the lowly kernal. 

Can you conjure one from the air?  Fill it with nourishment? Explain how bread becomes...well, bread?

I am powerless in the face of the ordinary.

I'm amazed by bread.

And isn't that the point of counting gifts-- 

that I would train my eye to see the miracle in the mundane and give thanks?

Ultimately, though, gift-counting by itself may miss the point.  

Jesus had crowds of followers who missed the point:

 Jesus answered them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, you are seeking me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate your fill of the loaves.  Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures to eternal life,
 which the Son of Man will give to you. For on him God the Father has set his seal....I am the Bread of life; whoever comes to Me shall not hunger, and whoever believes in Me shall never thirst.” (John 6:26-27, 35)

It's one thing to be amazed by bread.  

It's another to let my amazement at the bread mean I'm amazed by the Bread. 

It's about Jesus, or it's all for nothing.

Lord, open my eyes to see Jesus in the bread, in the ordinary, in the mundane.

Then I'll be amazed by You.

Following,

Ginger

Three Word Wednesday: Out of Balance

Ice mixes with snow out my window, but I am sitting here thankful for the power is still on!  Yesterday we beavered away around the house; today I plan to grade papers, rest, and sink deep into the gospel of John.

 Studying scripture brings out the student in me.  I love research, looking at different perspectives, chewing on new information.  

I've noticed, though, that sometimes I can parse Greek verbs to the point that I miss the point.

Know what I mean?

I walked away from a commentary underwhelmed by the events in one chapter.

Then I caught myself--or should I say--the Holy Spirit convicted me.

I had been seeking information, not relationship.

I had read for learning, not love.

Don't misunderstand; I love study, and I think it's worshipful--when it leads me to worship.

At first I was thinking that I needed balance.  Time spent studying; time spent loving.

Then my David-Crowder-fan husband played a song last night that changed my thinking.

I don't want balance.

I want obsession.

I want to be so obsessed with my Savior that I do all things to know Him and glorify Him.

Whatever fuels my love for Him, I want more of it, and since He fuels my love for Him, I want more of Him.

This morning, in those quiet predawn hours when I am the only one awake, those less-than-amazing Greek words floated back to my mind, and He showed me what they really meant--how they lead a man to see Jesus for Who He is.

And I was overwhelmed.

Amazed.

Obsessed.

Following,

Ginger

Linking at Three Word Wednesday