First smoothie I’ve made since moving to our new apartment four months ago! Why so long? Well, it’s a short lesson in humility really.

The last few years, I’d mastered the art of whipping up the most nutrition packed, blendable ingredients conceivable (and inconceivable) as well as attempts at converting family members to the blended side – unsuccessfully. When we prepared to move this past April, I took great pride in meticulously, Tetris-style packing my beloved Ninja with all its not inexpensive accessories meticulously nestled in the perfect sized moving box, sealed, then labeled accordingly.

We’ve moved like 20+ times in our 31 year marriage, so this move was not my first rodeo. I’d even booked the same moving crew we used when we downsized from the big house in which we raised Natalie and Meagan to an apartment. This 3-man crew was everything you’d want for a three-part complicated move (house, apartment, storage facility). They were super courteous, efficient, diligent, and over-the-top detailed down to bubble wrapping individual light bulbs and screws. Made my OCD heart so happy.

This time around, I was shocked and disappointed to find my precious Ninja box missing upon settling in and unpacking. I immediately called the moving company to have them re-check the truck and inquire with the crew about my missing box. The next day the message was not good. I thanked him for checking and asked that he continue to keep an eye out for me if my box should somehow reappear.

Days and weeks later, I got sad every time I opened the kitchen cabinet gazing upon the empty shelf I’d marked out for my Ninja comrades. Sadness turned to anger as I now imagined some stranger blending smoothies with MY Ninja. How can one possibly enjoy smoothies made with a dishonestly acquired blender? The little angel on my shoulder said “Now, now, maybe it’s a poor working mom who was miraculously given your box by a stranger who just happened to find it, and this mom had been praying for a way to make healthier meals for her family who have all lost their teeth because they couldn’t afford dental care?” Then the little devil on my other shoulder answered back “Don’t be ridiculous! You know they intentionally stole your box on moving day, immediately put it on EBay, and made a killing! If it makes you feel better, picture the thief choking on his next smoothie!” This dialogue went on for like two months.

Last month, Dave was searching for something (can’t remember what) supposedly still unpacked from the move. I insisted everything had been unpacked and put in its proper place. Together we stood there staring at boxes in our apartment garage that I would swear in a court of law that I had already combed through with my eagle eyes.

“What’s in here?” he asked pointing to a perfectly sealed unlabeled box then proceeded to open it. GAH! There it was exactly as I had NOT imagined it! My beloved Ninja set – blender base, nutribullets, processors, attachments, and all.

Today, as I drink my fresh ginger root, kale, beet, pineapple, blueberry, mango, chia seed, coconut smoothie, I do so with my tail tucked between my legs. From this day forward, I dub all my Ninja-made smoothies “Humble Pie.” I mean, “Humble Smoothie.”

Truth be told, many things have humbled me this summer. A few of those have already made the highlight reel in previous blog posts. But unlike the others, this one actually made me laugh. God has a great sense of humor. Blended with abundant grace, mercy, and forgiveness. Dare I say, He is the ultimate Ninja.

‘And he gives grace generously. As the Scriptures say,

“God opposes the proud
but gives grace to the humble.”

So humble yourselves before God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.’ James 4:6-7 NLT

I was fine until the scene in the movie where she placed her medal around her dad’s neck as he’s lying in his hospital bed.

That exact scene played out in my head as I wrestled with whether or not to run my 11th San Francisco Marathon last month. July is all a blur now. In some ways it felt like the longest month ever as well as the shortest. I missed a race earlier in the month because my dad was in critical condition at the hospital. “Critical” – as in the doctor pulled me aside to discuss end of life options.

That same weekend I went for a quick run near the hospital after visiting dad. Why run at all at a time such as this? I pulled into the empty parking lot of the Lafayette Reservoir with an hour left before the gates closed at 9pm. No Garmin, no iPod, no running shoes. Just took off Forrest Gump style. I just felt like running. It’s what I knew. It’s where and how Jesus has faithfully met me EVERY TIME. That evening I had the trail all to myself. I ran, I prayed, I cried out loud. No agenda whatsoever, well, except to not get locked inside the parking lot gates.

Here I am seven weeks later. Seems longer when I say it that way. I’ve been discussing dad’s progress with his care team in terms of days. Forty-four days since he was transferred to skilled nursing and roughly that many days of physical, occupational, and speech therapy.

I sat in on one of his PT sessions yesterday after church. Leg lifts, toe raises, arm extensions with weights, ball bounces. Dad looked really strong. He wasn’t ever out of breath and didn’t appear fatigued but kept saying he was tired. I think he was bored or didn’t see the point. I told him to keep going because I could see his progress. Not a lie. I mean, I’ve had to lie about a lot things the last seven weeks, but this wasn’t one of them. It’s very tempting to say “You almost died last month! Stop behaving like a child!” when dad is being dad and objecting to everything that’s actually keeping him alive.

Hmmm…

Just as I typed that last sentence, I realized that could be God talking about me. If I’m being totally transparent, there have been days I couldn’t find a good reason to get out of bed. It’s been very depressing to visit hospitals and nursing facilities. I’ve left some days thinking “What’s the point of anything I do?” Especially running. What’s the point? I mean like my dad used to be extremely diligent about exercise and nutrition. But that didn’t stop his Parkinson’s and recent pneumonia. He used to be OCD about dental hygiene. His name (Gene) is even part of the word. I had to brush his teeth for him the other day.

Dave and I just celebrated our 31st anniversary. We got married at 22 and 21, so we’re not that old in case you’re wondering. I love Dave with all my heart and more deeply with every passing year, but I don’t think I’m ready to brush his teeth or for him to brush mine – not to mention other matters of hygiene. When we said we wanted to grow old together, I might’ve pictured it a little differently.

• 

Motivation. Purpose. Results. Those words resonated with me as a runner. For my dad, it’s now about rehabilitation and living. It’s taken on new meaning for me as well.

I did end up running the San Francisco Marathon on July 28th. I went into marathon #52 with the least amount of training I’ve ever done (running back and forth to the hospital doesn’t really count). But I did show up at that start line with perhaps the most important motivation and purpose. I would picture each difficult step my dad now takes when my own legs and feet are tired. I would take captive every defeating thought and emotion using them instead to battle in prayer for dad. I would keep a steady, consistent pace focused on each mile as progress my dad is making. I would fix my eyes on Jesus, setting my mind on eternal goals, praising Him for even the smallest of details along the course. I would finish my race strong knowing that I almost didn’t run that day because I almost let the enemy convince me that my running days were over. I would cross that finish line then I’d drive over to visit dad, and I’d place my medal around his neck.

Well, all of that did happen. Except I didn’t end up placing the medal around dad’s neck. He wasn’t ready to cross his finish line just yet.

Since then dad has made remarkable strides. Literally. He doesn’t realize it, though. We have to tell him. He argues with just about everything that’s being done for his benefit.

I ran a trail half marathon August 10th. One of my least favorite courses due to stifling heat, elevation, bee stings, and potential poison oak. Every year I’ve said “Never again!” after this race. This seventh year, I ran it with the motivation of keeping my 2019 Ultra Half Series finisher hope alive and showing the enemy “I’M NOT GIVING UP!” as well as the purpose of praying for my mom. Don’t tell anyone I said this, but the course really wasn’t so bad this year. And I’m actually looking forward to running it next year.

These days I have to be more diligent, intentional, and even thankful for the mundane. It’s humbling when I think about what my dad wouldn’t give to be back in his own home, mowing his lawn, checking his stocks, tearing it up on the golf course, and enjoying our weekly lunches at Sweet Tomatoes.

So when it came to that part of the movie yesterday, I got all choked up. My ending will be different, though. I’m still running my race alongside my dad.

“Who is it that overcomes the world? Only the one who believes that Jesus is the Son of God.” 1 John 5:5 NIV

“You, dear children, are from God and have overcome them, because the one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world.” 1 John 4:4 NIV

“I have told you all this so that you may have peace in me. Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world.” John 16:33 NLT