The Family Fifty – Step 12 Carrying the Message

I’ll bet that “I’m Trying to Be Like Jesus” is on everyone’s list of top ten Primary songs. Lately, while observing the actions of others, several times I’ve had the Spirit poke me on the shoulder and say, “Look at that Nannette! That’s like Jesus.” Here’s just one example:

“Feed the Fire!” That’s what we call any activity that puts members of our family into the great outdoors. “Feed the Fire” activities usually involve some physical exertion. Sometimes we “Feed the Fire” solo and sometimes in groups. We’ve individually tackled mountains going up and mountains coming down (my personal favorite). We’ve relayed and triathloned and marathoned, and beyond. We’ve biked, hiked, walked, run and swum (is that a word?). We’ve gone 5k, 10k, half the day, and days and days. We’ve put our kids on our backs, drove them beside, pulled them behind, and left them behind. We have experienced the thrill of our own little victories, like crossing the finish line and the agony of defeat. Or should I say the agony of “de-feet.” We’ve beat our time and wiped out trying to stop on a dime and pretended we were “fime.” We’ve broken bones and been heard to moan…OK I’ll stop! As you can tell I’m no poet, but I think you get the idea. We’ve had a variety of together experiences and a lot of fun.

Each summer I try to participate in at least one “Feed the Fire” activity that stretches me a bit. This last spring I received a mass family e-mail from my nephew, inviting me to participate in a fifty mile bike ride. I replied immediately. “Yes! I’m in!”

I’m not what you would call a serious biker, but on my fiftieth birthday, during my surprise party lunch at Mimi’s, I glanced out the window while I was opening my gifts and my son was riding a brand new little mountain bike up and down the street in front of the restaurant hoping to get my attention. Since that day my birthday bike and I have put in some serious miles an hour at a time but never fifty all at once. I was excited!

I got as prepared as I knew how; took some nice one hour rides throughout the spring and early summer and made sure they included a few hills. I knew I’d be slow compared to the others, but I couldn’t afford a new road bike so I focused my preparation on my need to be comfortable; new sunglasses I could actually see through, biker pants with padding where most needed, and a speedometer to let me know if I was breaking the speed limit and to document every one of those fifty miles.

My nephew, the instigator or this activity is a twenty-eight year old husband, daddy of two boys and one little girl, with a baby on the way. He’s a nurse at a local hospital. He’s a great guy and quite the outdoorsman. I imagined him greasing up his “super bike” and getting it all ready for the big day. He’s also very spontaneous and usually pretty casual about things. I figured this would be a pretty loosely run event.

As the pre-activity weeks progressed I was very surprised to receive regular e-mails, “Hey everyone, I hope you’re still planning on the 50 mile ride. I’m so excited! Hope you are!” His final e-mail announced plans for transporting us and our bikes to the starting point. “At mile 30 we will be stopping for a little brunch in a park overlooking the lake. Hope you’re all getting ready. I’m excited!!!” I was beginning to get the idea that this adventure was not just being thrown together. This was an event!

Well, the morning of the “Feed the Fire Family Fifty” finally arrived. My bike was tuned up, the speedometer installed, and my camelback was ready to go. I had no idea where we were going or if I could make it all the way, but I was going. The transport arrived before dawn. There was a bit of a chill in the air. All bikes were loaded in the back of a Suburban, and we headed to the designated starting point.

After we were gathered we each received a sticky-backed logo to place on our bike in a visible place –“FTF” for “Feed the Fire!” Very Cool!!!

My nephew’s car was packed up with emergency equipment along with the brunch food. The plan was for someone to drive the car along with our group in case of any emergency, exhaustion, or need for supplies. We would take turns.

My nephew opted to take the first turn as driver of the emergency vehicle. Then he took the second turn and the third turn and the fourth turn…

“Wait a minute!” I said after a little careful observation, “You need to ride too!”

“No, I’ll be fine.”

“You mean you planned this whole thing, went to all this effort and you’re not going to even get on your bike?”

“No, I’m fine. I’ve ridden this route lots of times to prepare for this. Believe me, I know every turn in the road. I just want to make sure everyone has a good experience and makes it to the finish.”

So eleven of us pedaled and chatted and enjoyed the view of the lake and the mountains, and he drove ahead and waited until we had all safely past. Then he would drive on a little more. Sometimes he’d stop us and give some instructions like, “In about a mile we have to ride on the highway for a little stint. Be sure to ride single file.” Sometimes he would just encourage us, “The next part is up hill, but it’s pretty gradual, you can make it!” At one point we had to ride through a city, maneuver through quite a bit of traffic, pretend we were all cars, and get into the left-hand lane and turn. It was tricky but before we did it he explained exactly what was coming up and what had to be done.

He served us as a group, but he also served us individually. For some reason my bike is just not as fast as everyone else’s. Whenever I’m riding with other people I pump my little legs off trying to catch up and stay up. Well, this time was no exception. It was worse! For the life of me I could not keep up with the group. My friend and brother-in-law kept me company for several miles. At one point he said, “You’re working harder and making less headway than any of us. What’s the deal? Let’s trade bikes for a minute.” We traded and I zoomed out ahead. When we met up with my nephew, he checked out my bike, the one I had been riding for 40 miles. “Aunt Nan, one of your brakes has been clamped on the whole time you’ve been riding!” He quickly fixed the problem and my worn out legs were off to the finish line. What a difference the release of a little old brake can make. When we got back to our cars, my speedometer read 48.9 miles so I took a few turns around the parking lot until I had scientific evidence that I had finished the “Family Fifty.” We all finished. It was a “Feed the Fire” success!

Now here’s the point. All I had done was show up. All I had was the willingness to take a very long ride. I was really not physically trained for such a ride and I had no idea where I was going. This was a “Feed the Fire” success because someone else had been willing to feed “The Fire” inside of each one of us.

“Look Nannette. That’s like Jesus” I heard the Spirit whisper as I thought back on the day. We sing “I’m Trying To Be Like Jesus” and we are trying. Just look around at the ordinary people in your life. Every day someone in our lives does something remarkable that’s “like” Jesus in some aspect. It might be something Jesus never did while He was on the earth. The person may be wearing biking shorts or jeans or a suit. It’s like Him only dressed up in “today.” But when they do what they do, it teaches us about Him, His understanding, His power, His character, his love…always His love. There is no story in the New Testament about Jesus sacrificing to facilitate a family bike ride but somehow my experience with my nephew–just an ordinary guy– taught me about Jesus, brought me to Him. When someone is like Jesus in some little way it does something remarkable for other people.

My sincere thanks to all the blessed individuals I have the opportunity to be with in the flesh who help me come to know someone I can only be with in the Spirit. You help bridge the gap. You are not the Savior, but you show Him to me. Your actions and attitudes are much more than instruction on Christ-like behavior. They are a physical picture or reminder of the One who loves me. The One I can count on to lead me home. The one who might have said, “I’m fine. I’ve taken this ride countless times in preparation for your journey. Believe me, I know every turn in the road. I just want to make sure everyone has a good experience and makes it to the finish.”

By Nannette W., Posted Monday, December 6, 2010
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.

Heart-deep Recovery Lesson 3: Plavix or Me on Plavix! (Part Four of Four)

One of the biggest frustrations of my aftercare is all the medication I have to take. I now have one of those pill containers marked with the days of the week to help me keep the whole thing sorted out, the kind of thing peoples’ grandparents use. Imagine that! The prescriptions that seem to make the most visible difference are the ones for Plavix and aspirin–the blood thinners. Bruises, bruises, bruises! I hate it! I called the doctor and told him I must surely be getting too much blood thinner because I was covered with bruises. He took no pity on me whatsoever.

I was pretty angry until one day, after I’d bumped my hip on the kitchen counter, stubbed my big toe, hit my elbow on the door jam, and accidentally slammed my head in the door going out to the garage (OK, maybe that all took two days), it dawned on me that the problem, the real problem, was not the blood thinners, it was me on blood thinners. Plavix and aspirin don’t make bruises in and of themselves. I have bruises because I’m a klutz and on blood thinners every klutzy thing I do becomes visible.

I can get rid of the bruises by getting rid of the Plavix and put myself at risk or I can get rid of the bruises by being more conscious of what I am doing.

So, instead of spending my energy trying to rid myself of all the indicators God has put in place to help me see the truth (even though the truth is colored black and blue) I choose to live in gratitude for all the clues, the things He’s placed in my life like Plavix, and children, and callings, and challenges that make the truth plain. With my awareness, He can help me make the changes I need to make in life.

Conclusion
We overcome this world by degrees. A heart attack or any kind of earth life attack is an invitation to change, to be a little different, and to reach out to the Lord for direction and power over things we’ve never ever considered. Jesus is the Lord of my progress, my conversion, my change. Because of Him and with Him, in matters of the heart both physical and spiritual, I do not have to be what I have been. So Nannette, the pickax and the Plavix are not the enemy, and if you listen, you’ll know that they speak to you for Him.

By Nannette W.
Posted Sunday, September 5, 2010

Copyright 2008 by Nannette W.
All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.

Heart-deep Recovery Lesson 2: Who’s to Blame? (Part Three of Four)

“You’d be surprised how many people have heart attacks with a snow shovel in their hands,” I heard over and over from the hospital personnel.

“That’s it!” I thought. “Let’s blame the sledge hammer and the pickax.”

It’s the most “natural man” thing in the world to search for something or someone to blame—something or someone that Is Not Us! Many people pay a therapist to “peel the onion” and see what lurks inside. King David humbly invites the Lord to take an intensive look when he says “Search me, O God, and know my heart” (Psalms 139:23). My cardiologist went in with a camera and tools for excavating. The point is to look beyond the obvious.

As we say in addiction recovery, our problem is “a symptom of other causes and conditions” (A Guide to Addiction Recovery and Healing p, 21). And so it was with the condition of my heart. It wasn’t really about the sledge hammer or the pickax, the high blood pressure or the extreme discomfort. Even the enzymes in my blood were not the enemy. They were all indicators.

All recovery, cardiac or otherwise, requires that we look for clues deep within, beyond the hammer and the ice or whatever person, place, thing, or situation we’re tempted to blame. It takes courage to locate the real blockage—the actual thing that has us stuck. Today I’m grateful for physical and spiritual clues—even painful ones—that help me take positive action on the condition of my heart.

By Nannette W.
Posted Saturday, September 4, 2010

Copyright 2008 by Nannette W.
All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.

Heart-deep Recovery Lesson 1: Who Me? No Way! (Part Two of Four)

“But I have such a healthy life style today!” I announced to the cardiologist as I lay in bed breathing from an oxygen tube. “I exercise and eat right! I’ll have you know I’ve lost 97 lbs!”

“Past sins and heredity,” he responded with a grim smile.

Years ago I remember sitting in a hospital waiting room listening to my mom give her family history of heart disease to the physician’s assistant right before her angiogram and quadruple bypass surgery. I remember thinking. “Nannette, you really should take this personally.” I didn’t though. I didn’t get it ‘til now.

I really am a product of the strengths and weaknesses that have been passed down the family line along with all the actions, good and bad I have taken over a lifetime. I’m certainly grateful I did not weigh 97 lbs. more when I had my heart attack. Repentance is real. We can turn around. Change is real. With direction and power from God we can break cycles that are generations old, but healing the heart whether physically or spiritually, takes time and patience and willingness to cooperate. I have learned that I can’t ever take the health of my heart for granted. The way I live today both physically and spiritually has the power to reach across the years and counter what I have inherited and what I have inflicted upon myself.

My heart attack was an invitation from the Lord to do just that and though it’s been hard, I’m grateful for the wake-up call. My life’s work is to come unto Christ and overcome what all of us are challenged with, heredity and our own past sins.” So, “Yes Me!” “Why not me!”

By Nannette W.
Posted Friday, September 3, 2010

Copyright 2008 by Nannette W.
All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.

Heart-deep Recovery (Part One of Four)

One January 25th of 2010 it somehow got to be afternoon and I hadn’t exercised yet. After lunch I started contemplating, “Just how am I going to go about getting just enough exercise to appease my conscience today?” I got a little creative. My husband had left to run some errands. Out in the street in front of our house was a thick slab of ice. He had been working on it for days, trying to clear it out so we’d have more available parking. Our house faces north and I’ve often joked that we live in a glacier. Every year, as the grass greens up and the daffodils bloom in the yards across the street we still enjoy enough white on the lawn to build a good size snowman.

Well this January afternoon that thick slice of dirty, frozen, white winter called my name. I had never used a sledge hammer, but I knew where it was kept, and the idea of swinging and making my mark on that ice filled me with some kind of delight. I opened the garage door and grabbed the tool. This activity was going to count for gym time, so I gave it everything I had. My goal suddenly became not simply to get a little exercise but to have that ice entirely broken up before my husband returned. I knew I didn’t have long so I went at it hard! There was something very satisfying about swinging that sledge hammer–the centrifugal pull on my shoulders, the power of letting it fall on the freeze and the sound of thick ice cracking. About half-way through I glanced in the garage and noticed that right there next to where the sledge hammer was kept was a pickax. “Why not,” I said to myself. “This might be even more effective!”

As my husband rounded the corner I was done breaking up the entire sheet of ice and was finishing my afternoon workout by shoveling pieces of ice into the street for quick melting. My very surprised husband was happy to take the shovel and finish the job. Pretty satisfied that this twenty-five minute extreme workout could compensate for an hour at the gym I walked into the house.

As I entered my room a sick feeling I had never experienced before washed over my body. I knew that I was not only done exercising, I was done in! I was not in what you might call a great deal of pain, but a tremendous weariness seemed to emanate from my chest and fill my entire body.

I was removing my wet clothes when my friend Pat called. I put the phone to my ear and lay down on my bed. As she chattered away the feeling grew worse until I excused myself for a minute. I had a borrowed blood pressure monitor and it came into my mind that it was time to try it out. It registered 191 over 115. Back in October a doctor had given me a prescription of nitroglycerin after a less severe rise in my blood pressure. I went back to the phone, reported my findings and told my friend that perhaps this was the moment to put one of those small white pills under my tongue. I called my husband in, chewed up an aspirin, and asked my husband for a blessing. The pressure came down a few notches. I called my doctor who thought it was simply the result of my intense exercise. He suggested I give it a little time and all would be well.

“That’s good,” I thought and proceeded to make dinner. I continued to check my blood pressure every hour. Not much changed. Determined I was not going to spend the night in the ER, by gum, I took charge of the situation. I tried the “don’t think about it” system…the relax and make dinner system…the relax and watch a movie system. But at midnight my blood pressure was still extremely elevated, and my daughters, who are registered nurses, insisted I go to the emergency room. After several revealing tests, the attending physician insisted that I spend the night. I was admitted into the hospital. I soon realized that the only thing I was going to be in charge of was one of those nice beds with a thin mattress and a remote control.

I’d started the day feeling like a young 55 and now I lay in a hospital bed feeling old and trying to wrap my mind around what was happening. The blood work confirmed a heart attack. The next morning the angiogram revealed a blockage in my heart and the cardiologist placed a stent in one of my arteries.

I left the hospital with a 172 page Heart Care Handbook, prescriptions for eight medications to lower my blood pressure, thin my blood, and prevent cholesterol from playing havoc in my arteries, and finally, a referral to cardiac rehab. Wow!

Often the Lord is subtle and I have to really be on the lookout for what He might be trying to teach me. Other times there are events in life were His message is loud, clear, and unmistakable. This was just such an event.

By Nannette W.
Posted Thursday, September 2, 2010

Copyright 2008 by Nannette W.
All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.

Triathlon – Part 3 (Final Thoughts)

My sharing about the lessons I learned during the triathlon come in three parts. First, I was taught that the number one, most essential element in accomplishing something hard is to TRY! I must resist the temptation to be afraid of how I look to others or to be embarrassed by how my skills stack up to my competitors’ abilities. Second, I am never alone. The Lord is my constant companion in carrying out any and all tasks, and often he rallies ordinary people to cheer me on.

Finally, I want to share several little things I observed in others and in myself that might make the next challenge I face (race or not) a good experience.

Enjoy the view:
The country surrounding me was absolutely beautiful – desert red plateaus in the foreground and snowcapped mountains in the distance. I made a conscious effort to bike and run with my head up. It reminded me of the advice I’ve received in facing other challenges, to not focus on the problem. As I looked out and tried to drink it all in it seemed to help me forget the hill I was climbing (the problem) and my tired legs (my own weakness).

Don’t be embarrassed by baby steps or using first gear:
I know President Kimball counseled us “to lengthen our stride.” I want to, I really do, but sometimes baby steps are all I’ve got in me. When I’m exhausted and tempted to sit down in the middle of the trail and be done before “it’s” over I remember that baby steps and first gear are a blessings. They keep me moving forward. Even if my progress is almost imperceptible, it’s real. Just pick one foot up and put it in front of the other.

Be prepared for surprises:
I should have seen it coming. It seems that no matter how familiar you think you are with the route, until you have actually, physically traveled the course, there will be some element of surprise. The first time I ran a half marathon I did a lot of training, at least more than I was use to. Down the mountain trail I would run Saturday after Saturday. This was a downhill event, and I love going downhill!!! My daughter and I ran the marathon together. I remember thinking, “Down Down Down! This is the only way to run a race!” Ahead of us, as far as I could see, was a stream of runners. Remembering my first race (10K 1992) and the solitary experience it had been, it was fun to keep my eyes on the other runners. This was progress. But suddenly I observed them doing something that immediately brought a sinking feeling to my heart and my legs. The whole group made a hairpin turn down below me and started jogging up hill. “No way!!!” I exasperated to my daughter and anyone else in earshot. “You said this was a down hill race!” The answer, of course, was “It mostly is Mom. SURPRISE!”

During the Triathlon 2009 I had a surprise as well. Just as I was finishing what I thought was the entire bike ride and thinking the 10 miles had gone unbelievably fast and thinking, “Yea for me!!!” – The biking official said something that clued in me to reality. I was only half way done. I would need to bike the entire hilly loop again. SURPRISE!

Biking finished; I was on to the run. As I looped back to where I had started the run there was little doubt in my mind. “We run this loop twice too, right?” “That’s Right.” Surprises are part of the adventure. They keep things interesting. Surprises cause me to rise to the occasion. Surprises make me do things that are hard that I wouldn’t have signed up for. Surprises make me strong.

It’s not about being finished:
When I was half way through the biking portion with the run still to go, to my total dismay, I saw that there were actually people walking their bikes back to their cars. Why? Because they were FINISHED! I mentioned my astonishment to the Lord and the thought that came back to me was, “Nannette, they’re not finished. They’re fast. They’re fast because they will be up every morning next week putting themselves through the paces again. They are going home, but they aren’t done. Being “finished” is a fantasy.”

Finally, it’s never going to be “all down hill from here”:
Sometime during the triathlon someone yelled out to me, “Hey, it’s all down hill from here.” They had no idea where I was in the race. I had many hills ahead of me. One of the most helpful things I have learned is that every important journey has lots of ups and downs. It doesn’t serve me well to imagine that I am going to magically arrive at a place where there is no more challenge. In fact there is a kind of serenity that comes when I accept the reality that I am not going to simply coast across the finish line, not in a race and not in life.

By Nannette W.
Posted Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.

Triathlon Part 2 – Never Alone!

As I began the biking part of the triathlon my mind went back to the first time I participated in an organized challenge of this type. It was a 10 K run on the Fourth of July. I remember feeling nervous and excited as I joined all the other athletes that summer morning in 1992. There was great energy, anticipation, and camaraderie in the air. The starting gun sounded. I moved forward with the crowd, giving it all I had. One after the other, each person in the group sped past me until I was looking at every runner from behind. Up ahead there was a bend in the road. I jogged on and watched as the crowd ahead of me disappeared around the corner. That was the last I saw of my “comrades.” I felt entirely alone. During the rest of the race I never saw another runner. My one and only running partner that day was the Lord.

Much of the time I wondered if I was really on the route. Then I would come upon the water station hosted by “the Culligan Man.” The volunteer would assure me that I was on the right track, wish me well, and then close up shop. I never quit running and I never quit praying. The last couple of miles I actually ran along the parade route, along side a parade that was in full swing. The words come to mind, “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.” I wasn’t beating anyone so I might as well join the parade.

I had never actually run six miles in my life. Three miles was my top run in preparation. By mile five I was really beyond myself. I continued to ask for the strength to finish. I kept putting one foot in front of the other. I’m sure to the onlookers it seemed like I was nearly jogging in place. Somewhere between a float passing by and the striking up the next band I realized that I had no idea where the race ended. I kept jogging. Then suddenly out of the crowd appeared two of my teenage children. “Yea Mom! You can do it!” My greeting to them was far from characteristic. I managed to pant out “Where’s the end of the ‘darn’ race’?” (Language has been revised to protect this Grandma) “Mom!!!” They laughed. I think they were as shocked as I was.

I crossed the finish line about forty minutes after everyone else. The fruit was gone. The tee shirts were gone. Most of the people had gone off to watch the parade with their families. The thing that was not gone and that lives on with me to this day is what it felt like to do something hard with next to no human support. I came away that day with a greater witness that with God nothing is impossible.

I’ve come a long way in the last 17 years and I’m very grateful. During Triathlon 2009 I wasn’t alone or without encouragement from other participants for even a minute. At the end of each lap, during the swim, a young girl assigned to my lane announced how many laps had done and cheered me on. As I swam to the other end, there were my kids, waiting their turn to swim and chiming out, “You’re doing it Mom!”

The fellowship didn’t end with the official volunteers and my family. The participants themselves were more than willing to encourage this perfect stranger. The bike section was accomplished in two five-mile loops and the run in two mile and a half loops. If you were slow, and I was, you met the same faster racers several times as they literally ran circles around you. My personal favorite was the young fellow who passed me several times and reminded me not only that I wasn’t alone, but that I was doing something kind of cool “for my age.” Four times he passed me and shouted out, “Ata Girl!” It wasn’t just the perfect strangers who biked and ran circles around me. My own kids passed me coming and going. As each one saw me in the distance, coming toward them, a hand would reach out and meet mine with a slap that said “don’t give up” mom! It’s a great thing to watch your kids accomplish something challenging, on purpose, together! True fellowship is not competitive; it’s compassionate.

As I finished the Triathlon I had to run past all the racers that had completed the experience well before me, including my children. I ran through the finish line and received cheers from a large crowd (one of the benefits of coming in at the tail end) and hugs from my children (one of the benefits of being the mom). I didn’t have any sense that I was being congratulated by people who had beaten me in a race but by people who had taught me how to race.

As I look back today on my first and now my last athletic experience I see that each of these events taught me something important. In my first race, 17 years ago, I discovered that with God alone, I can do hard things. In this last race I was reminded that the Lord often surrounds us with fellow travelers. Whether He gifts us with His very personal company or with an army of mortal encouragers we are never ever required to go it alone!

By Nannette W.
Posted Saturday, April 25, 2009

Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.

Triathlon – Part 1

Several weeks ago I actually dialed a phone number and used my credit card to sign up for a triathlon – On Purpose! – Just for the experience. Swim, then bike, then run! As I rolled up my sleeve and revealed my lily-white arm, the event official used a permanent marker to identify me in bold as number 236. This was my first attempt at a triathlon.

The first event was the swim. I arrived with three of my grown children who unanimously sent me to the head of the long line of swimmers to beg my way to an early entrance into the pool. “I’m not going to be very fast,” I explained to the youthful group in black Speedos, goggles, and swim caps. “Can I stand here so I can get into the pool and out again before this whole thing is over?” I think my flowered suit gave my request a lot of credibility. “Sure!” they said.

I watched as swimmer after swimmer entered and exited the pool. I can swim, but I’m not what you would call “a swimmer.” I’m not fond of putting my head into the water, and my general mode of operation is the breaststroke. Sixteen lengths of the breaststroke was exactly how I planned to accomplish the first part of the challenge. I knew my friends in line and my children further back in line were going to speed through the water like torpedoes. I questioned the group, “You can swim however you want, right?” “Absolutely!” they reassured me.

Just then a swimmer caught my attention. In the closest lane to me was gentleman who gave me courage to just be myself and try with everything I had. This older fellow was not doing a sleek forward crawl or the breaststroke. He was doing the elementary backstroke, back and forth, lap after lap.

The first lesson I learned during my triathlon experience was that the number one qualifier is the willingness to try. To “try” is “to make an effort to do something hard to endure.” The most important thing I had to do to get from one end of this experience to the other was to make an effort.

As I jumped into my lane, head up, nose out of the water, a thought came to me that made me smile. Think of this as a Try-athlon Nannette!

That’s when I suspected that God was going to teach me some important things that spring day in April, not just about swimming, biking, and running, but about making it from one end to the other in the Try-athlon we call Life. I decided to pay attention.

By Nannette W.
Posted Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.

When First Gear Fails – Step 3 Trusting in God in All Things

Early this morning I received a call from a friend for support in recovery. When I hung up I knew that this was not going to be an easy day in her recovery. It would be a day of physical withdrawal. I was fill with the feelings of, “If only there were something I could do so that her day might not be so difficult. I called the two local temples and had her name placed on the prayer roll. I too offered a prayer in her behalf and turned her over to the care of the Lord.

There is nothing more beautiful to me than a warm almost spring winter day. The sun shining on the snow packed mountains framed in sky-blue was irresistible to me. I took my bike out of hibernation, put on my serious biker helmet and gloves and took off. No gym for me today. I knew I didn’t have more that 45 minutes to ride and I wanted to get some good exercise so I headed downhill for fun knowing that once down the only way back home would be up.

Several times, as I pedaled along, I thought of my early morning call. Finally I’d had all the fun going downhill there was time for. I played around with the gears on my bike in hopes of adjusting them for a challenging ride up a very long, steep hill. Apparently God had something else in mind today, because I could not get my bike to shift into first gear no matter what I tried. I was very frustrated, but there was nothing to do but work with the middle gear and keep peddling. I tried the first gear again and again. I even offered up a little “Please fix my bike” prayer.

As I huffed and puffed and submitted to the reality of my condition my friend’s situation entered my mind once again. At that very minute I knew she was experiencing the excruciating side effects of withdrawal from drugs. At that moment I had the thought, “Nannette, it is not a bad thing to go through something hard. At the top of this hill you will be stronger than you were at the bottom. Likewise, at the end of the day your friend will have experienced something very challenging, but she will be stronger for it.

I know the Lord can and will lighten our burdens, but He doesn’t always provide us with “first gear” travel. Trusting God in all things means to proceed up the hill He has placed in my path no matter what gear I am required to use. Jesus speaks to the prophet Joseph in the middle of one of his most challenging climbs with these words, “…know thou, my son, that all these things shall give the experience, and shall be for thy good” (D&C 122:7).

It’s critical to remember, when my own muscles, physical and spiritual, start to burn, or when my heart aches over the painful experiences people I love are passing through, that the Lord allows us to go through hard things for our good, for our growth, and for our increased strength. The Lord’s work is not to provide the easy way through this life, but the sure way Home.

By Nannette W.
Posted Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.

“Hey Coach!” “Who Me?” – Giving Support

Ethan, age 7, is very excited about the upcoming junior basketball season. His mother (my daughter) spent her growing up years dancing, not playing basketball like all her other siblings. Last week she walked out into the yard to check on Ethan and see if he was playing with friends or what. He was shooting baskets.

Upon seeing her enter the little family basketball court at the side of their house he passed her the ball and said, “Hey Mom, you try to shoot it!”

“OK,” she replied, took aim and shot. They continued to pass the ball around and Ethan’s mom, the dancer, taught him what she knew about the various types of passes.

Then came the invitation that made her chuckle inside. “Hey Mom, how about every day at 3:00 you come out here with me and we have practice and you be my coach!”

So often we think we have to wait until we become “experts” to serve as support to others, but this little interaction between a mother and her 7 year old has all the elements of good support: Enough care to wonder how another human being is doing; Willingness to walk out onto the court, or pick up the phone, or knock on the door; Enough inclination to pass the ball back and forth a few times, interact in some way, or just sit visit a while; The courage to share what little you know about passing the basketball, about moving ahead, or conquering any of life’s challenges; And finally, enough love to show up again tomorrow and the next day.

We may or may not be experts about much of anything, but expert or not, without these qualities we can make no lasting positive difference in the lives of others. With these qualities we just might make all the difference in the world.

So the next time someone calls out, “Hey coach!!!” I don’t have to be afraid. I don’t have to be an expert, an authority, a master, or a virtuoso of anything. All it takes is Care, Willingness, Interaction, Courage to share what I’ve been given, and Loving Consistency. These are qualities that can be prayerfully sought by any of us. As the truth has been coined, the proper response is not “Who me?” but “Why not me…SURE, PASS THE BALL!”

By Nannette W.
Posted Saturday, February 28, 2009

Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.