27, er, I mean 9 Dresses

So...you guessed it! I get to be a bridesmaid, AGAIN! This time it is for my twin sister. The picture to the left is them. Don't they look happy? They are...and everyone else is pretty happy for them, too! For any of my friends who read this, here is their wedding website.

Accomplishments and Disappointments

Last Sunday, I accomplished something that I’ve talked about doing for 3 and a half years! My friend (and former running partner!!), Corrie, and I began talking about running a half marathon back when we were running around the gym in the Luce Center. It seemed like a far off goal, as even then we were “building up” to running a 5K, a mere 3.1 miles. But, we talked about it, even talking about where we would run the race. Life happened and I moved away, but we still talked about running one at some point. Then, “Life” passed me by as she continued training without me and ran a half marathon a year after I moved away.

And yet, I was given another chance. Last fall, my sister began talking about running a half marathon. When Amy brought it up, I told her that I was going to run one, too! I don’t think that she believed me. To her credit, I had really only started running again in August, and even then, it was just 1 measly mile. By that time it was October and I had worked up to 3 miles (but only once or twice!). What was I thinking? I wanted to be able to run 13.1 miles by the spring? Well, fortunately, I wasn’t thinking, just acting on a desire that had been planted in me three years earlier!

And so, armed with a new pair of Adidas, and some new workout clothes, I started running “purposefully” last November. My sister pushed me to run (even on Thanksgiving Day) even when I didn’t want to, and then my pride took over! I had told people, namely my sister (who, by the way is in awesome shape), that I was going to run a half marathon in the spring, and by golly, I was going to do it, even if it meant running on holidays. Throughout the winter, I bundled up, avoided the ice and snow, and ran anyway. I enjoyed the “think time” of being able to just go and put my brain on autopilot while I worked my body. By Christmas time, I was bored of my own brain and bit the bullet to buy an iPod to be my training partner. I was ecstatic when I discovered the Nike+ system that charts my mileage, my pace, and the length of time I’ve been running. Soon, I abandoned my old (shorter) routes of 3 to 5 miles and I set out to blaze a new (longer) trail, with my iPod as my guide! This was wonderful, as I didn’t have to take the time to drive my routes anymore. My distances were able to be downloaded, analyzed, and recorded for me to study to improve my pace. My iPod and me—we were a great team! It always told me everything I needed to know!

Race day came last Sunday morning in Lawrence, KS, and I was absolutely confident! Sure, I would be lots slower than my sister, but I would make it—no problem! During my last long workout, I had run 11.5 miles in 2 hours and 5 minutes and I was ready to go. It had not been easy, but I knew that I could make it one and a half miles further. As we set out running that morning, I quickly settled into my pace (SLOW!) that I knew I would be able to sustain. It wasn’t a breeze, but I was making it. I sure was looking forward to being done, but I just kept putting one foot in front of the other…on Mass. St…by the stadium…up the hill to the Campanile…up another hill…and through residential areas. About mile 9, I began to be perplexed. I caught a glimpse of the mile marker and something didn’t seem right. I had pressed the button to hear from my iPod about my distance a few minutes earlier and it had told me that I had run over 10 miles. I was confused by the sign, but convinced myself that it must be wrong. According to the times that I had run the week before, I was on pace to have already run over 10 miles! I kept running, putting one foot in front of the other…a park…another hill…a water station…and then, finally, heading back in the direction of Haskell, where the race was to end. I pushed the button once again and heard sweet, wonderful words: “You’ve completed 12.5 miles.” Yeah! I’m almost done, but something didn’t quite seem right. I couldn’t even see the stadium yet. My worst fears were confirmed when I saw the mile marker sign marked 11. A panic set in as I realized that my iPod had been feeding me wrong information through my race that day. The worst of it? I had been sharing my information with a fellow runner who was just as ready to be done as I was! I silently despaired at the thought of 2.1 miles to go instead of the .5 miles that I thought remained. I confessed to my fellow runner that I had been accidentally feeding him wrong information and he confessed that he had stopped believing me a mile earlier when he passed the 10 mile mark (which apparently, I had explained away). Those last 2.1 miles seemed like the longest miles ever. My blister from the week before had returned, my knees ached, my head spun, and my toes hurt. But, I kept putting one foot in front of the other. I prayed, I thought of the well wishes that I had gotten from students, friends, and family. As I headed toward the finish line, I saw my sister, some students from Southwestern, and the rest of my friends who were waiting patiently. I took the headphones out of my ears and I kept repeating the words, “I will not stop running, I will finish this race,” in my head. Somehow, I managed. For the next few minutes, everything sort of turned into a blur of pain, water, and the now unfamiliar feeling of standing still. As I told my friends about my iPod, my sister asked me, “Didn’t you see the mile markers? They should have told you how far you had run.” My answer? “I think I saw most of them, but I didn’t want to believe they were right. I wanted my iPod to be right.” I was struck by the truth in that statement. How frequently do I see the signs in life about something, but I explain it away through my own rationalizations, excuses, or ignorance. How many times do we look at something, and still not recognize the Truth standing right in front of us?

My finish time was disappointing. It took me a very long 2 hours and 40 minutes to finish the race. I was shooting for 2 hours and 20 minutes. I got home and downloaded the data to my computer and laughed out loud when I looked at it. I managed to keep the pace in my “desired” range (10:30-11:00/miles) until I ran 13 miles…according to my iPod, anyway. It takes a serious dip after it records 13. I wasn’t prepared. I thought I was. I had run for weeks, and weeks, and weeks. I thought I had run 11.5 miles. But, I was relying on a wrong system to tell me what to do. My iPod had been wrong on race day, but it had also been wrong every other day that I had trained. By my calculations, I must have only run 10 miles the previous week, causing a pretty big jump to 13 when it really counted. While I faced the disappointment of not hitting my goal, I did enjoy the satisfaction of completion of the race.

That’s what it’s truly about, isn’t it…finishing the race? In our Christian lives, we often think that we’re on the right track, doing all that we need to do, listening to God’s voice, and then sometimes, we’re put to the test by our circumstances and we discover that we really weren’t quite as prepared as we thought we were. We stumble. We fall. We sometimes even lead others astray by our actions. But fortunately, God continues to surround us with people cheering us on, encouraging us, and challenging us to get back in the race. And certainly he leaves us mile markers. If only we have the eyes to see them.

Christ is Risen!

He is risen indeed! Alleluia!

And Yet...

After the supper was over, Jesus and his disciples left the Upper Room and went to a garden called Gethsemane. Jesus knew that his time on earth was limited and the unfolding events would alter not only his life, but the rest of human history. He must have been numbly exhausted, and yet, his soul was in distress. He made one request of his disciples: “Stay here and keep watch with me.” They must have been eager to please their rabbi, and yet, they failed him in his most distressing hour. Not once, not twice, but three times he found them sleeping when he had asked them to pray. How often we fail to keep our word, follow through, or do our best, despite our best intentions. And yet, Christ loves us through it all. He willingly drinks the cup that leads him to death for penalty of our sins.

As the Lenten season comes to a close and we wait longingly for Easter, may we remember that we are deeply in need of a Savior. We often seem to have it together. We like to think that we’re not that bad. However, at the very least, we get tired. We get impatient. We want things to just hurry up. We act like the disciples on that last night that Jesus had with together with them. We have good intentions, and yet, we fall asleep. Fortunately for us, we have a patient Savior. We can be rebuked and then reinstated (like Peter—the sleeper)! I take great peace in reading these words of Peter in 1 Peter 4:7: “Be clear minded and self-controlled so that you can pray.” Peter wrote these words knowing that this was not an easy task. And yet, he learned the lesson. May we learn it, too.

Lenten Lament

The season of Lent is upon us! We are caught in the middle of the time when we are initiated into death (Ash Wednesday) and when we celebrate the New Life of Jesus Christ through Resurrection Sunday (Easter). I did not grow up observing Lent. I thought it was something that only my Catholic friends did, and even then, I didn’t have any clue what it was that they did (except not eating meat). My first real exposure to Lent was when I went to a United Methodist college and we had an Ash Wednesday service in Chapel one year. I received the smudge of ashes on my forehead, feeling self-conscious for the next hour about what the ashes said about me. They boldly proclaimed my mortality—ashes to ashes, dust to dust. They said I was a “religious” person. They sent a message to others about who I was. And they made me uncomfortable! Sure, I was a Christian—others on campus who knew me already knew that about me. But somehow the ashes signified my brokenness in a way that I’d never “broadcast” before.

Lent is the time of year when we embrace the fact that we are a finite and broken people. In a sense, we mourn our humanity. We remember that one day we will die. In fact, as the preacher on Ash Wednesday said this year, “Without Christ, we are dead.” It sounds blunt, but it is the truth. When we live a life without Christ, we actually are dead already. Dead to eternal life. Dead because of our sin. We are walking dead. The Lenten season reminds us of our death. That’s not very encouraging! We like to put a positive spin on things. Naturally, we like to push our thoughts toward Easter, that resurrection morning when death was defeated. And yet, it’s important to dwell in the morbid thoughts of our broken humanity for this season of the year.

Christian tradition teaches us to deny ourselves of something during the Lenten season. Some choose chocolate, others Facebook, or something else. This year I chose morning TV. I’m not ashamed to admit it…my day starts better when I have Good Morning America to accompany me in my morning ritual! I sometimes switch to The Today Show when GMA isn’t so hot, but I do enjoy catching some news along with the new spring fashions. This year, I decided that I would give up morning television as a way of denying myself and focusing on Christ. All was well until that chapel a week after Ash Wednesday. It was announced in chapel that the Discipleship team would be giving up pop and sending the money to Blood: Water Mission to dig a well in Africa. This was news to me, but I was all for it! I had just recently heard about this project and their plan to build wells for clean water in Africa. I was happy to donate money, but not too keen on giving up pop. During this first week, I sort of played around with this idea. Okay…so I won’t buy any new pop, but I’ll drink what I have on hand (fortunately for me, I had purchased 2-24 packs. Hey—they were on sale!) just a week before Lent. Or, I won’t buy any pop at a restaurant, but if I’m not paying for it and it’s included in the price, it’s okay. I’ll still donate money. For goodness sake, I’m giving up morning TV for Lent! I didn’t decide on the pop thing—it was decided for me and I’ll donate the money.

And then, this weekend…the still, small voice of God finally broke through my litany of excuses.

“Ashlee…is this really about not drinking pop, or is this about your
stubborn humanity? Do you want to do things your way, or are you willing
to yield to me? Have you taken seriously what it means to ‘take up your
cross and follow me’?”

Well…when you put it that way, Lord! My broken excuses revealed for all to see about my humanity, much more obviously than the smudge of ashes on my forehead ever did. It’s easy for me (as for all of us) to justify our actions, pay off our “guilt,” or plug our ears to the still, small voice of our Savior. And so, we can’t skip ahead to Easter. We need Lent. A time when we willingly admit our brokenness, for all to see! We remind ourselves that without Christ, we are dead. We deny our “wants” in order to join in the sufferings of Christ, relying on his strength. I’m still not watching morning TV until after Easter, but for me, Lent has become about denying myself in another way. I’m letting the decision of another person (the Kingdom Committee of the Discipleship team) help break me of my stubbornness. I’m giving of my financial resources and I’m hopeful for the recipients of the well that we will contribute to, but that’s not the goal. (Don’t get me wrong—it’s a wonderful, wonderful byproduct of our obedience!). The goal is that we would become people that are fully submitted to Christ, every day of the year, able to respond to the countless ways that we are employed by Christ to do the work that he has called us to do. So…lament! Lament and remember your humanity. Remember that without Christ, you are dead. And on that day when we celebrate the new life that we have in Christ, we will join with Christ and be raised from the dead. And this year, the recipients of the new well in Africa can celebrate with us, too.

We Will Never Forget

I woke up this morning to fog outside. I don't live in a valley or near a body of water, and yet from time to time we wake up to fog. The sun is now out and has burned it all away, but the fog of the morning sticks with me. It reminds me of that foggy day 10 years ago today when Holly died.

I can't believe that it's been 10 years. In some ways, it seems like just yesterday since everything about that day is so vivid in my memory. And yet, it seems like a whole lifetime has happened in the decade since Holly died. It was the Monday morning after the Super Bowl and Leslee, Danny and I had just come from Responsibilities for the Future, a capstone class for graduating seniors that we had affectionately dubbed "Death Class" since we had spent the first 3 weeks of class talking about death and dying. We had just read Tuesdays With Morrie and discussed what it meant to die well. As we were walking down the hill back to our apartment in Reid, Martin met us on the hill and told us that he needed to tell us some bad news. The world was spinning as he told us about Holly's accident on the way to work that morning in Wichita. Leslee cried, Danny supported her on the walk back to our room, and I tried to tell Martin all the reasons why I was sure that she was not really dead.

I didn't know what to say to people. I remember when they gradually started flooding our room. First, Amy came and told us that Dawn had told her in the stairwell in the Student Center. Then Kellie came. Then Amber. Gradually all our roommates and neighbors gathered in Reid 204. All our roommates except for Holly. She was notably absent. Her stuff was everywhere in the room, reminding us at every turn that she would never come home again. We still didn't believe it, but we knew that it was true, expecially after we went to the funeral home and saw her with our own eyes. Someone had come by our room earlier and gotten some of her sweats and a t-shirt so that they could dress her in her own clothes as they sent her body back to Colorado. When we saw her in the funeral home, she was wearing her high school track t-shirt, had her eyes closed, her hair slightly damp. She looked asleep. And that's when we realized that she wasn't just asleep.

Over 100 people came by our room that day to mourn with us. I didn't even realize that I knew 100 people. And yet, they came--some of them to talk to us, some of them to sit on Holly's bed, some of them to just say that they had "heard" and Holly would be missed. We looked through a HUGE box of pictures and began a memorial for her. Pictures of her laughing, her Homecoming Queen portrait (which she HATED because one of her eyes was squinty!), pictures of us girls going out, and of her boyfriend and her. We laughed, we cried. We felt guilty because we were able to laugh and cry and she wasn't. And then, the memorial wall outside our room began to appear, like what happens with celebrities when they die unexpectedly. First, our posterboard filled with pictures, then notes we left for Holly, then flowers, cards, signs, pictures and gifts left by others. We all wanted to say something to Holly. Things that had been unsaid when she was still alive. Things that needed to be unsaid now that she was gone. Things that would bring us peace and solace during this time of grief and sadness. It was almost unbearable, and yet, in the awfulness of it, we began to heal.

The room that Leslee and Holly shared felt cold. We didn't want to abandon that room where Holly had slept and we didn't want Leslee to stay in there alone, so Amber and I moved our beds into that bedroom. Somehow we felt reconnected again, all 4 of us. We began to be able to talk about Holly without crying, then felt guilty for that, then realized that she was the first to flash a smile and we should not let her smile alone, so we laughed--at her, with her, at ourselves, now without her. We didn't want to forget about her, so we talked about her. I still think that she got the last laugh on that one as two years later I was finally able to find the beeping noise that went off every afternoon at 2:20. It was the alarm on her sports watch that had fallen deep inside my couch. The watch still works and I never have shut off the alarm. I don't hear it often due to my schedule, but it reminds me of Holly's presence.

The last decade has brought laughter, tears, joy, pain, marriages, babies, and careers. Our friends and our neighbors join in our celebrations and our pains, and yet, one is absent. Holly remains in our hearts and in our minds as we "carry on" with our lives. The foggy weather appears every now and then, hanging heavy, reminding me that I am surrounded by something that I often cannot see or feel. Like the air that always surrounds me, so does Christ's presence surround me. There are many days, like the one 10 years ago when Holly died, that you wonder where he is. Some mornings, however, the air becomes visible, and in the midst of the fog, the Son comes out.

Holly Jo Mitchek, '98
We will never forget you

Living God's Call in Hard Times

There is a caricature of the “Christian Life”, sometime propagated by Hollywood, sometimes by TV Preachers, that says that a person who has a messed up life can bring all their problems to God and, snap, things are going to be perfect. The birds will sing, you’ll always find a great parking spot, and your team will always win the big game. Well, unfortunately, this is simply not true. “Bad things happen to Good People,” accidents happen and the Moundbuilders occasionally have a bad game. It’s true that we can bring all of our pain and sorrow to God and he can rebuild our lives, but unfortunately it usually doesn’t happen overnight.

We pick up our story today here, in the book of 1 Samuel in the Old Testament:

Scene 1:
They’re living in hard times—a couple hundred years ago their people, the Israelites, came from slavery in Egypt where they were being oppressed. They are ruled by a group of people who are known as Judges—not really a king, not really a priest, but they’re called by God and given insight into what God wants to do with this group of people. A woman, Hannah, is married to a man, Elkanah, who loves her very much. She’s got two problems, however. Problem #1: she is barren and has been unable to have children. The only thing worse is problem #2.) Elkanah is also married to another woman, Peninniah (they used to do that in those days). Peninniah isn’t her husband’s favorite, but she feels vindicated b/c she has a slew of children. Each year when they go up to make sacrifices, Hannah makes an offering to the Lord and prays before God. The typical way that they prayed included them gathering in their place of worship praying aloud. However, this particular year, Hannah was so overcome with grief over her barrenness that she poured out her heart before God in silence, moving her lips, but not able to express her prayer verbally. This caught the attention of Eli, the priest, who noticed her abnormal behavior and even accused her of being drunk! Hannah even offered her son in service to the Lord, as a Nazarite, never to cut his hair or give him wine to drink. That was the ultimate offering, it seemed, to give him back to the God that gave him first to her once he turned 3 years old. After she explained her situation, he blessed and said, “Go in peace; the God of Israel grant the petition that you have made to him.”

Scene 2:
They’re living in hard times—the word of the Lord was rare in those days; visions were not wide spread. Eli, the old priest tried to be faithful, but the task felt too big for him. He had just been warned by a man of God about the bad behavior of his two sons, Hophni and Phinehas. They served with him, receiving sacrifices and conducting religions ceremonies which made matters worse. They skimmed a little off the top of the sacrifices, taking more than their fair share and cutting into what was supposed to be offered to the Lord. No only that, but they also copied the practices of those in the land of Canaan that they were trying to replace and had sex with temple prostitutes—not quite the example that you want your children to set when you’re the religious leader! Eli was grateful for one thing, though, that’s for sure: Samuel, the boy who had been serving with him the last couple of years was sure an answer to prayer! Eli remembered that he had first thought that his mother was drunk, praying like she was with her lips moving, but no sound coming out! At second glance, she prayed reverently, desperately even, imploring the God of the Universe to grant her one prayer: to have a child. Eli was grateful for Samuel’s ministry among them. It seemed almost a “do-over” to him, an opportunity to discuss who the God of Israel was, to teach him of God’s mighty acts in bringing them out of oppressive Egypt and to carry on the work of God.

This story isn’t turning out well at all! Our hero—Samuel—is thrown a curveball and given an unglamorous task! If we were writing the story, we might write the story differently:

• Hannah—God blessed her with a child, Samuel, and he did grow up to be a faithful servant of God, but she didn’t have to give him up at age 3. He matured on his own and chose to follow God as a priest.
• Hophni & Phinehas—They repented of their wicked ways and once again were used by God to minister to the people.
• Eli—He saw the repentance of his sons and died and old, happy man.
• Samuel—He lived his life knowing that he was an answer to prayer, feeling blessed and lived his life in response to God.

These things COULD have happened, but they didn’t. We often have the desire for things to turn out with a fairytale ending, but they often don’t.

So how do we live God’s call in the hard times?

We learn a lesson from Hannah. She gave up her son in service to the Lord. She didn’t try to make excuses to God. And she didn’t know if she would ever have any more children. But she remained faithful to her promise to dedicate her son to God’s service. We learn from Hannah that living with integrity—keeping one’s promise—is one way to live God’s call in hard times.

We learn a lesson from Eli. While Eli was reluctant to confront his sons about their bad behavior, he did maintain an open heart to God. He taught Samuel to be able to hear God’s voice and even encouraged him to share openly with him about the message that God had given him, even if he knew that it would be at a personal cost to him. We learn from Eli that pointing others to God is one way to live God’s call in hard times.

We learn a lesson from Samuel. Samuel did not get a say in whether he would be raised in service to the Lord. He was handed over as a 3 year old to be shaped and formed by the priest Eli. And yet, Samuel was obedient. He acts heroically when he is faithful despite the fact that he really has been dealt a difficult hand. We learn from Samuel that God speaks to us when we are listening and sheer obedience is the way to live God’s call in hard times.

We even learn a lesson from Hophni and Phinehas. While it may seem that you’re living a self-indulgent life without any consequences, eventually sin and obedience catches us to you. We learn from these two guys that God has a standard and we are to keep it even in hard times.

The rest of the story:

Hannah went on to miraculously have more children—3 sons and 2 daughters—and was blessed for her willingness to serve God faithful. And Samuel, despite his difficult first task, went on to live a blessed life with all his enemies slain by just a simple nod of his head. His rule as a judge ushered in a time of peace and harmony for the people of Israel and his team always won….Uh-oh, there’s that tricky caricature, again! The first part about Hannah is true, but that’s not quite what happened. Even though he encountered many difficult days in his life, Samuel did grow up to be a figure in the history of Israel that ushered in a new period: the Monarchy. He anointed the first king, Saul, and then the Greatest King, David, preparing a new chapter in the lives of the people of Israel. His faithful mother would never have known that day when she prayed desperately for a child that her son would grow up to play such an important role in the history of Israel! That he would become a mouthpiece for God during a time of much silence. That he would speak words of truth to King David, preparing him for his role as the unifier of Israel (even a unified Israel lasted for only a brief time).

Scene 3:

We’re living in hard times. We often feel tossed and torn by the pressures that come our way. We have relationship pressures, academic pressures, and financial pressures. We vacillate between silence of God and steps that seem impossible to follow. The word of the Lord seems to be apparent to everyone around us except for us! We try to pray, but our prayers feel as though they hit the ceiling and never reach God’s ears. We compare our faith to those around us and seem to never match up. We ask forgiveness for the same thing over and over again, never quite feeling like we’re back in God’s good graces. And we forget that in the hard times, God is present here with us.

It’s good that we don’t write the end of the stories. It’s good that we learn how to live out the call of God in the hard times. It’s good that God has left us with the image of a Savior that endured difficulty, and we can look not only to what Christ did, but also to what he is doing in the world today.