Tag Archives: illness

Resurrection of my soul…

Like the rock being rolled away from the tomb, this weekend has felt like the resurrection of my own soul.

From whence the countless days of study my mind hath prevailed, it felt as if there would never be an end to the grinding, arduous task of pushing my faculties to complete one more problem; one more page; one more concept of Mathematical computation from which there was seemingly no end.

This was just the final chapter in three years of study. Coming into the field of education as a Lateral Entry Teacher, there were the required Education Classes to be taken that my Engineering degree never afforded. This in conjunction with the learning curve of applying the pedagogy real-time was my learning curve which became a daily experience. But, yet, God in all his wondrous glory, finally answered the prayers for wisdom. So that this weekend, the first, since having recovered from another round of illness the previous, has set me free to pursue the path the Lord hath prepared well in advance.

Deep within my being, there was an awareness of His hands upon the pages of events which would unfold.

Weeks before, the singing engagement for the New Hope SDA Church in Valdese had to be postponed because I had contracted the flu. Too sick to make it out of bed, it had to be delayed; which just so happen to be this weekend.

Then, out of the blue, another church, one we had been members of before leaving our farm and previous life, Cumnock Union UMC, called asking if I would be interested in returning to sing and speak. Miraculously, it was the same weekend. This all happened before the upcoming test that was scheduled for March 22nd.

In my heart, it felt as if God was telling me, that this would be it; this would be the final attempt, the one in which I would pass. He was preparing the pathway of the future because it was time to move on.

I didn’t realize it then, but those words would be more prophetic than one might realize.

Adding to the feeling of culmination, the weekend before the test, my laptop decided that it had enough and was going to finally die. Contrary to my disbelief, I asked God to again give me the wisdom, and through a few more attempts of using the education from my previous career, something inside me clicked again; the feeling of confirmation. A voice whispered, “Before you leave this afternoon, the sign of things to come will be that your laptop will be working better than ever before.” Within an hour of that voice, after an upload, a couple restarts, and driver addition or two, suddenly, the old laptop finally responded. It wasn’t just fixed from the current problem, but as He has predicted, it suddenly began working better than it had in almost two years; Divine IT Guidance at its best!

From that point forward, there was a feeling of God’s hand upon each new day.

Yet, He wasn’t going to let it be easy. A new cold began to overtake me so that by the morning of the test, Friday, March 22nd,  I literally debated going or not. Shaking my head in disbelief, I struggled to the cupboard and took enough cold medicine to hold me through the duration of the exam.

This can’t be happening,” I thought to myself.

A couple of hours later, in a cloud of medication, I walked into the testing facility, unsure of how much it might affect my ability to focus. Once more, God wasn’t through with me. When I met the test administrator, after handing me the sign-in sheet, unlike previous tests when I either had to ask for or was never close enough to obtain it, I was given my favorite locker number: God’s number in my mind, #3. (God the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit). Then to add to the feeling of confirmation, unlike before, I was also given light colored paper; something I had complained about in previous attempts since the paper was so dark it was hard to see the marks of a pencil.

As I sat down at desk #3 in the testing lab, my body began to tingle with the power of God surging through me. The first few questions were a cloud of foggy, cold-medicine induced confusion, but once the surge of energy fully kicked in, I went back and corrected those and then began pushing onward.

Before I knew it, the 2-1/2 hours was nearly up.

Again, unlike before, at the end of the test, after having fully completed the test and had time to go back over questions that I was unsure of or needed more time to solve, I sat and saw 30 seconds remaining. I bowed my head in prayer and when I said, “Amen,” the clock showed three seconds remaining. When the timer ended, and my hand clicked onto the next page, tears began to fill my eyes.

There on the screen was the answer to three years of night classes, almost 10 months of study for just one test, isolation, withdrawal from the world, and diligent obedience to my newfound career; A Passing Score!

It was one of the most surreal moments of my life; here I wanted to shout, but I was so sick I could barely breathe.

Throughout the ordeal, I had vowed to celebrate with a cinnamon roll and coffee whenever the day came that I might pass. Instead, the reward that morning was to drive back home and go back to bed and try to recover from the illness that had overcome days earlier.

I would remain sick in bed the rest of that weekend, while outside the warmth of spring tapped at my window sill. Sunlight sparkling through the closed slats of my bedroom windows, taunting my fever-racked body.

Eventual, healing would begin. This weekend became even more precious as the days of this last week counted down. By Friday I was like a student ready for the end of the school year. My energy level was off the charts.

When Saturday morning broke, I was as a child waking before the dawn in anticipation of opening gifts under the Christmas tree, it was long before the light of day when the bed couldn’t contain my eagerness any longer. Jumping from beneath the covers, the anticipation of the joy of the day’s events kept gurgling up into my heart, like the overabundant rapture, frothing to the surface; the Spring in my soul had returned.

“Today, the new journey begins,” my mind said.

From the moment the fellowship and sharing began at New Hope, the blessings only increased.

There was so much to be thankful for and yet, so much more to come.

Later, when the rear tire blew out going down the Interstate at 70mph, I was unfazed. For in my mind I had already contemplated getting off at the next exit to get gas. This was God’s way of saying, “Yes you will!” Within an hour, there were two new tires on the back of the car, and I was once more off to my destination for the second half of my weekend; God was with me each step of the way.

Resurrected like our Lord and Savior, my spirit has been revived. Like Jesus, the grave could not contain him; God defeated Death, and from its dark domain, Light will forever be in the world.

Today is the first day of the rest of my life.

Thanks be to God.


2 Comments

Filed under Uncategorized

Zen Miles…

webThis morning I ran ten miles, which in German would be “zehn” miles. It made me think of the Eastern philosophy of “Zen” and how my exercise had a lot to do with the “Zen” of life. I thought of this homonym on the return route, since my zehn miles is an out-and-back course.  A colleague at work and I had discussed this past week how running seemed to cleanse our minds from the stress and chaos from work; thus the Zen.  I didn’t initially plan to run ten, but rather eight miles. As I went along, I eventually found myself willing and able to continue farther with a memory that would spur me to go the extra two miles I hadn’t planned; but that part I will unfold later. The first few yards of my run each day take me down a gravel road through a deep wood, where this morning I happened to pick up several spider webs that had miraculously stretched across the roadway during the night. I could feel these nearly invisible strands of fiber trailing behind me, like the tail of a kite and with the thought of Zen, they became as memories in life that I recall on my run, often invoked by an image or sound along the way as they floated behind.raincrow

This morning my first recollection was of a sound; a Rain Crow.

The rain crow is actually a “Yellow Billed Cuckoo” native to this area but according to an old wives tale,  its call often signifies the prediction of rain by the next day. I first heard of this while visiting the gathering that use to occur at Reno Sharpe’s Store, down the road from where we live. In those days, mostly old men would gather and sit on the porch when weather would allow, sipping on bottles of coca-cola or spitting chew off the porch while sharing the news of the day. It was here I leasharpestorerned of the rain crow and its ability to foretell the weather among many other things in life that are passed down orally; history told in a manner in which it comes alive.

The prediction of rain made me think about the day before when I had just disked up the garden plot, so today would be the day to get the seeds planted. My daughter, Mary and I, would most likely be the ones to do this later this day. We shared in our endeavor to raise a garden. Bringing in the fresh produce was a rewarding to us as anything, especially when it enriched our dietary pallets. This reminded me of the days we would go to my paternal grandmother’s house on Sunday. They were Seventh Day Adventist, so their Sabbath was on Saturday. So when Sunday rolled around in late summer, we would go and help her set out the fall garden, preparing for the hearty plants that would last well into the cold winters of southern Indiana. It would be a family event, one that would get us all out working in the dirt with our hands, then returning to the front porch to drink cold water from the old tin cups she had saved and sharing stories. Telling tales and passing down family history was something we had always known. The trips to the local store only made North Carolina seem more like home.

A trail of web dropped off as I plodded along, the sun rising behind me as I headed westward.

The cool mist of the morning was heavy in the lower valleys today, opening another chapter of life. There was a day when I was a very competitive runner and ten miles was merely medium distance in my training, unlike today wherefog it was definitely my long run. I remembered running on the back roads of Ocala Florida under wide Oaks with drapes of Spanish moss hanging down where misty mornings were common. On those runs along the Turkey Bridge road, a hilly section near my house, I could literally run down into a fog bank so thick the ridge behind me would disappear and the temperature would drop ten degrees. It was an eerie feeling to run up and down this hills that were like islands in the sky separated by white lakes of floating mists.

One more web loosened itself as I rounded the next bend in the road.

My morning Bible study at been all of 2nd Peter. It was written telling people the faults of following false prophets and how retaining hate in your life was unhealthy. The image of all the media and the threat of war in Syria came to mind. People fed a daily ration of hate, people stockpiling weapons, fear growing of government invasion of personal privacy; all of it compounding upon what 2nd Peter foretold of a nation that lost their way and became ignorant of their faith. But here I was flushing this vileness from my mind, not retaining it, so I took in a deep breath of the pure country air and let it go, relishing in the beautiful morning before me as I could hear a flock of crows calling off to my right, another thought another memory I left with them.

I passed the mailbox of Clyde McClaurin; I happened to be running on McClaurin road, which had been named after Clyde’s family many years before. Clyde passed away over ten years ago, so his name on the mailbox stands as somewhat of a memorial to him. The name on the box also reminded me of a time gone by when people weren’t afraid to put their names on their mailboxes. Today, in the world of instant communication and Google Earth, I find people hiding more and more behind numbers and false names in order to hide their true identity, thus allowing them to continue the conversation of hate which I alluded to earlier.

Wanting to stray back to the moment and get away from the world in which we live, I focused once more on the open road ahead.

Not far away I passed a mailbox numbered 1805 and thought of how it might be interesting to write a story about someone that went for a run and how each mailbox number became a date So, as they ran along a road with decreasing numbers, they would find themselves going back in time. I thought of this mailbox next to the barbed wire fence and how it was likely that there wasn’t any barbed wire in 1805, something I’d have to look up before writing that story. I knew from my experiences visiting historic sites in that time frame that split rail fences or rock walls were common, so it was that it was very likely I’d find myself running along old rock walls if I had been transported to the early 1800s. Thankfully the barbed wire fence continued as did my run.

As is often, I thought of the sequel to my book that I was writing and where I might go with it. I’d fixate on the image of each twist and turn and before I realized it, I’d be a mile or two down the road. This mental writing while running is something new to me but its quite rewarding to be able to write and run without worrying about pain or discomfort. I know when I first started back running last summer this was not at all possible because the pain was too great. Thankfully a year later I’m able to run nearly pain free for all of ten miles.

Then it dawned on me, I hadn’t run ten miles since before my mother passed away last December.

darknessThe flood of memories with her death and the visits beforehand came rushing back. I remember the day of her funeral, I went out to run, to try to leave it all for just a few minutes, but it would go away. Her passing was the finality in my life that I knew would eventually occur. Her release from her battle with cancer was a relief in itself, but just knowing there wouldn’t be another time I could hear her voice on the phone; those would be the times that would be missed. That day I ran ten miles and felt like I was in a cloud, but it was a dark one. There had been a dangerous flu going around, one I would eventually become ill with. I wouldn’t be free of the sickness for a couple months; thus the reason my running stopped that winter, and my long runs. It was a dark time and without a way to shed the pain, the months crept along. Today was my chance to put it behind, physically and mentally; ten miles it will be I decided, Lord willing.

One by one, mile after mile,  I left the strands of web behind like the memories along the run until I wasuphillrun approaching that last final hill, the one leading to my house; here to the present. My daughter wanted to run a couple miles with me this morning in order to train for her cross-country at school. This was something I enjoyed and would endure no matter how tired I had become from my long run. Our children are our future. This was the here and now, as the last final cob web fell to the side of the road; this was the creation of new memories that I would reach back for someday.

My mind clear, my soul refreshed and zehn miles under my belt; once more, I was home.

Leave a Comment

Filed under Inspirational, Nature, Religious Experience, Running