Peculiar treasures

Sometimes there are people who enter into your life and impact it in ways you didn't think possible.

And you never want to lose those people.

They are peculiar treasures.

And it seems like they usually quite literally come out of nowhere. A few years ago, I was still learning what it meant to be an adult and live on my own (actually, I think that's more of an ongoing process), and I had recently started running more and was becoming more familiar with some of the faces in the running community. Then, at a random sand volleyball party one afternoon, one of the guys I didn't know well but had seen at a couple of races began chatting with me and said I should come join some of his friends and him sometime for a run in Dallas. It wasn't an official group, he said, but just some people who love to run. I was intimidated, because I knew who most of his training buddies were, and I was quite aware that they were all fast. Really fast. But, for some weird reason, I thought I would try it out.

And my life changed forever.

I will never forget my first experience with these people. It was a warm and humid morning, and we were doing a run on the Katy Trail. Now, I had met a few of them before, but I definitely didn't know them well, and they didn't know much about me.

But they learned something pretty quickly.

As soon as we got on the trail, a hopper (the green amphibian spawn of Satan) went across our path. I had somewhat of a panic attack. I am afraid of one thing in life, and it happens to be this demonic creature. I hadn't planned on letting my new friends know about this the first time I spent time with them, but I guess life happens sometimes. There were multiple other hoppers out this morning, and my fellow redhead, Jen, mentioned that she usually never sees them on the Katy.

I've always known those things are out to get me.

Rather than treating me like a psycho girl with a strange fear (I don't think it's weird, but most people I know do), these people started warning me each time they saw a hopper, and Jen even offered to be my "hopper protector." All I kept thinking was, "Who are these people, and why are they being so nice to me?" I couldn't figure it out.

But now I know—they are peculiar treasures.

And now, three years later, these are some of my best friends—people who have been there with me through some of the best and some of the hardest miles (both literal and figurative) of life.

It's these kinds of people who make everything in life better.

I can't say I was thrilled about going to the parade in Dallas on Saturday—I am not a huge fan of parades, and I really don't like being caught in massive crowds of people. But the people with me that day made me almost completely forget that there were thousands of others around us, because we were having such a good time in our own little world. I remember looking at them as they were catching various things being thrown in the parade but then sharing them with one another (like when Laz gave Kristi a silver necklace, because she had been waiting for that color), and I thought to myself, "They're all peculiar treasures."

And it's true.

Peculiar treasures are in our lives in many ways: they're the friends from your childhood you may not see as often as you'd like, but you pick up like no time has been lost each time you spend time with them; it's that friend who moved away, applied for some covert job, put you as a reference, ensuring some secret service agent would come conduct the most intense and awkward interview you've ever had; it's that roommate who took you to the hospital late one night when your pancreas attacked itself and stayed with you until the morning hours when your mom arrived, even though she had an early class that next day; it's that person who always remembers to get you a rock on every trip, because it's a known fact you collect them; it's that group of friends who wake up extra early on a Sunday morning to come cheer you on at a race before they go to church; it's the ones who make you look forward to every single Thursday, which used to be such an insignificant day of the week; it's those people who know every quirky thing about you and love you just the same.

We are peculiar treasures to God, and He's placed people in our lives who are true blessings. Yes, some of them may be quite peculiar, indeed, but they are the ones who show us what authentic friendship and love really are.

And, just like with any treasure, you should never let them go.

Tailor-made

Being tailored can be so uncomfortable.

I took a dress to be altered today, and I will be one of the first people to say that the tailor is not one of my favorite places to go. For starters, it's chilly out, and I was already in my cozy clothes and wasn't thrilled to have to change into the dress. But, it's a necessary component of the process, so I tried to think happy thoughts.

Until the pins came out.

Different than before

The sweet lady in charge of alterations is awesome and has tailored a couple of bridesmaids dresses for me in the past, but I never like it when I see her come toward me with all of those pins in her hands—it means things are about to get unpleasant. I guess one reason I really don't like this situation is because I'm not a huge fan of people—especially people I don't know very well—touching me. I don't like having the thought: "Oh, that's a hand that shouldn't be there," when fabric is being pulled and tightened in various places.

But the uncomfortable moments have to occur in order for the dress to be in its best form. And, once it is finally ready, it's as perfect as it can be for whatever person is set to wear it. It's still the same dress, but now it's gone through changes so that it's better than it was before.

We all go through tailoring types of experiences in life, but they are there to help us to become the people we are meant to be. Even though we feel awkward and uneasy sometimes, we are being tailored and molded they way we are supposed to so that we reach that perfect fit. We are still the same people, but we've had the changes within us that make us better than we were.

No, going to the tailor isn't the bravest feat in the world, but you still have to be willing to step out in the middle of the room in front of those huge mirrors and trust that the professional knows what he or she is doing. In the same way, we also have to be willing to step out in the middle of this massive world and let the real Tailor work in us, trusting that He knows exactly what He's doing.

It's bold. It's worth it.

Being tailored isn't so bad—after all, it just means you'll be that much more comfortable to dance with spunk every chance you get.

Finish each lap

The world can be a lonely place—but only if you let it be.

I do most of my running by myself, and it's sometimes tough to be able to hit the paces I need on harder workouts without others there to push me. I find that running with others helps me go faster. That's one reason my Sunday long runs with my friends never really seem as long as they are—I have people right alongside me, which is encouraging, and they are all such enjoyable company that it's a blast in the process.

But there are times when going solo on something is a beatdown.

Take your mark.

I was at a middle school track the other day, and a dad brought his two sons out for a little family practice session. The older boy, a 13-year-old, seemed pretty serious with his warmup drills and told me he competed for a club team. His 7-year-old-brother, however, was likely just out there because his older brother was. He didn't seem to be too enthused about anything to do with running.

In fact, he was avoiding it until his dad finally sternly told him to run a warmup lap.

Little Jace took off pounding his feet in an almost full-out sprint. Then I heard his dad yell, "Boy, you've only run a 100!" I looked up to see Jace already walking with his hands interlaced on the back of his head like he had just run a really difficult race. His dad started his own lap and caught up to him, making Jace start running again, as well. When he had his father right there with him, little Jace didn't seem to struggle at all and even finished his lap with a precious smile on his face. It was contagious, and I couldn't help but chuckle a little, too.

His dad kept running and said as he started his next lap, "I'm going to run another, and then you're going to join me again. We'll go together."

Jace took a deep breath and then said, "Ok, daddy, but you have to stay with me the whole time!"

And that's just what his father did.

Life can feel defeating when you're all alone and trying to tackle each curve or straightaway that you face. Often we feel like giving up or walking when we're supposed to be running. But it's important to remember that we have a Father who will run every step of the way with us or simply carry us when it feels like we can't go one extra lap. And when we see that we have another intimidating task ahead of us, He's there to say, "We'll go together."

And He will stay with us the entire time.

It doesn't matter if we take off too fast; it doesn't matter if we veer off the path or out of our lanes; it doesn't matter if the wind seems too powerful and like we are always going against it as it's constantly pushing us back; it doesn't matter if the distance seems way too daunting for us to finish. What matters is that we are not alone, and there's strength within us all that we sometimes don't even acknowledge we have. But, when we do, that homestretch feels so much more significant.

And, when you finish your lap, just think how contagious that precious smile on your face will be.

It's all about the climb

I think it's wise to climb a tree every chance you get.

Even if your neighbor tells you not to.

I remember when I was a little girl I climbed my neighbor's tree, and my sister told me I needed to get down. I asked her if our dad had told her that, and she didn't even get a chance to answer me. Instead, my neighbor had walked out of her house and cut in with, "No, but I say you need to get out of that tree now."

Even though I replied with a "Yes, ma'am," I didn't really mean it. I had something else I would have preferred to say. (Kidding, of course.) So I got down from the tree and continued on to other adventures in the Park Meadow neighborhood.

I enjoy climbing trees because of the mini-escapades they add to life. There are so many different types of trees in this world, and no two provide the exact same climbing routes. Your footing will change for each tree you scale, and you will have a variety of views, allowing you to expand on the perspectives you have on the landscapes before you.

The view is nice from a tree.

But one of the more challenging aspects of tree climbing is the decent. Even though you might want to jump to the ground from whatever limb you made your perch, you could actually be too high for a safe landing. That's when you systematically must develop a way to make your way safely back to earth without earning yourself any broken bones in the process.

I found myself in such a predicament yesterday.

I ran a half marathon, and I was a bit tired on the walk back to the car, but I wasn't too fatigued to climb a tree. There was a superb one that just stood out to me and was begging for me to ascend to one of its branches. Before I let my mind have a second thought, I was making my way up the tree as my parents watched. I think they've gotten to the point where they don't really question it anymore—they just let me climb. When I was ready to get back down, however, I realized it would be easier to jump, but the jump was higher than I wanted—and probably higher than my legs could take at the time. Thankfully, my dad was there, and he told me just to slide off the branch, and he would catch me. That made my life so much easier and less painful.

Life is full of trees—weeping willows, tall oaks, forbidden neighbors' trees, ones that your mom claims are "diseased" and should be avoided, ones that let you hide from your mom at softball practice, and so many more that will allow for opportunities galore. The important thing to remember is take a chance every once in a while and climb a difficult tree. Because, even if you get stuck, you're always going to have a Father there who will reach up His hand to help you down.

Plus, climbing trees helps you stay young at heart—and I think we all need a little bit more of that in our lives.

The perfect stop

You aren't always going to get the perfect ringlet when you're using a curling iron.

And if you play darts you probably aren't going to hit bull's eye every time, either.

Even though we'd like for things to end as wonderfully as we've planned, those home runs we want often take much longer than we think our hearts can take.

Two of my precious athletes (one injured and one team manager) were helping me time at the track meet on Saturday, and they created their own little game where they spent almost the entire meet trying to get the exact same times on their stopwatch screens. It's a pretty challenging thing to do when you're going down to hundredths of seconds, but they had fun making the efforts and comparing their screens after each heat finished.

I love how entertained people can be by the simplest things.

Sometimes it happens.

Toward the end of the meet, they came darting toward me, joyously shouting, "Coach Merrill, we did it!" I was in the middle of talking to a runner about a race she'd just run, so it took me a couple of seconds to process what they were talking about, and then they proudly displayed their matching stopwatch times. Their expressions were full of almost as much elation as mine when I found that blue raspberry Jolly Rancher in my backpack a few hours prior. I told them how much pride I felt in that moment for them, and they gleefully ran back to the finish line to continue their responsibilities for the day.

Oddly enough, this happened one more time before the meet ended, and they made sure to run over and tell me all about it. I couldn't help but smile at how much joy they found in something about which most people wouldn't really care too much. But they had invested so much effort into it, and it became important to them. You've got to love their dedication.

There are far too many times in life where we miss the mark, and it's easy to become discouraged. You didn't hit your goal time in a race you ran; you bombed that test you studied all night for; you said the complete wrong thing to a friend who really needed some encouragement; you accidentally made a peanut butter and mustard sandwich for lunch, because you were so tired and didn't grab the jelly out of the refrigerator that morning; you realize you got entirely the wrong impression about someone; you didn't quite estimate correctly just how much space there was in that parking spot; you bought a dress that looked a lot better on the mannequin; you threw an interception that was supposed to be a touchdown.

Life is full of those missing-the-mark moments.

But it makes things seem that much sweeter when you keep going and finally get it right.

You finally got that PR; you aced your final exam; you helped a friend when he/she needed you the most; you made the best sandwich this world has ever seen; you gave someone a chance; you executed the greatest parallel parking job the streets have ever allowed; you wore a dress you didn't try on and made Beyoncé look so yesterday; you threw the winning touchdown pass to clinch the championship.

Life is also full of those moments where you actually hit the mark.

And those are simply beautiful.

I think the important thing to remember is to persevere through the hard times. I got the privilege to cheer for a couple of my friends in the Austin Marathon over the weekend and see them achieve what they went there to do.They've been training their tails off for months, and their smiles when they finished were absolutely contagious. They hit the mark.

I'm one of the most imperfect people I know, so I'm constantly shooting arrows in wrong directions in so many areas of my life. But that doesn't mean that it's time to stop trying to get them right in the center of the circle. At some point, it will happen; if it doesn't, then it wasn't supposed to. Simple enough.

But, if it does, I know I'll want others to feel the joy—even if it's in the form of matching stopwatches.

"I don't need you"

My heart broke this morning.

And, the truth is, I think part of it will stay broken with the reality that set in.

We make the daily announcements for our school from my classroom every morning, and my advanced broadcast students are the ones who lead them. I have to punch in a code to access the PA system, and one of my students started typing it in on her own this morning. (She's one of my most responsible students, so the fact that she knows the code doesn't make me nervous that she will abuse it in any way.) I jokingly scolded her for taking over, and then she said six words that were like a dagger piercing into my heart:

"It's OK. I don't need you."

They still need me sometimes.

As soon as announcements were over, I of course slightly dramatized things and made a speech about how I had already become an antiquated figure in her life, even though I've been teaching her for four years. I was just giving her a hard time, but then truth—sad truth—started to surface: at some point, my students really won't need me anymore.

I wanted to cry.

As a teacher, it's fun to see students grow from the time they are awkward and nervous little freshmen to when they become confident and strong young adults who are ready to take on the new adventures they are about to face. Because I'm the broadcast teacher, and my classes produce the show that airs for our entire school, my students have the opportunity to be part of the program for all four years. And that makes it even harder when they get closer to leaving.

Or when they tell you they don't need you.

I started thinking about how when we're kids we need our parents so much, but we start to try to be on our own more and more as we grow up. This is actually a good thing, because you don't want to be in a Failure to Launch situation. It's certainly beneficial for us, but I have never really thought about how hard it can be for parents to get the feeling that they are no longer needed by their children. It's got to hurt.

I've noticed my parents love it when they get the opportunity to help me out, and I guess I understand why more now than I ever have. They like being needed. I've mentioned countless times how they are at all of my races, and my dad really values being in charge of my bag and making sure I am ready to go before I hit the start line. I think he really appreciated it when I visited them after the Houston half marathon and talked about how stressful it was running such a big race and having to deal with bag check, etc. without my parents there to make sure there were no worries. I'm not a helpless baby, but every once in a while it's nice to have someone take care of you.

And it's nice to care for others.

When my students leave here, they obviously aren't going to need my help anymore, but I can hope that the things they've learned in my class—especially the life lessons—will guide them in becoming the greatest people they can be. And I suppose that's what most parents have to do when their kids finally move out and begin new adventures elsewhere. Our helplessness has to fade.

But our need for Jesus never will.

He's the one thing in life that we really can't just turn to and say, "I don't need you." While we are prone to grow up and become independent, we can always count on Him being there for us no matter what age we reach. Because, no matter how much we want to tell ourselves we can, the truth is that we can actually do nothing all on our own. And it's not a good idea to try.

So, while I may not be needed by my students forever, I can take comfort in the fact that Someone wants to be needed by me every day.

And it is music to His ears when we say, "I need you."

Can't fix it all

Duct tape is so useful in my life.

It really does fix so many things.

I don't pretend to know how there is so much power in what doesn't even seem like a very sticky piece of material, but there is something extra special in there that has almost magical wonders that can literally mend so many things—and now there are even fancier duct tapes (rather than the standard gray color) so that your repairs can appear classier than they really are.

It's absolutely fantastic.

But, sadly, I have discovered that duct tape cannot actually fix everything.

Not too long ago, there was a ceiling light in my classroom that became somewhat hazardous when the screen broke on one side and was hanging, ready to fall at any moment. I figured it likely wouldn't be good to have it collapse onto one of my students, and for some reason it seemed like a good idea to try to fix it myself. I can't even begin to describe how excited I got when I realized I was going to get to use my pink polka dot duct tape. Talk about a good day!

Unfortunately, things don't always pan out as we planned.

Keep it classy.

My attempt to ensure the safety of my students resulted in me almost falling off of a chair stacked on a desk (while I was in heels) and the screen whacking into my face (twice) before I realized that the duct tape just wasn't strong enough to repair the light fixture. I was sad—not only because I couldn't fix something but also because now I knew my ceiling wouldn't have polka dots giving it more character. And that's upsetting.

There are many things duct tape can legitimately fix: flip flops, phone cases, water bottles, remote controls, Garmin watch bands (go with hot pink on that one—trust me), books, various imperfect parts of your car (well, to a certain extent), articles of clothing, and many other things that other people or even you might find strange.

But there are also far too many things duct tape cannot mend: ceiling lights (obviously), bad haircuts, head wounds (actually, it's probably not wise to use duct tape on any cut/gash/break to your body), iceberg damage to ships (Titanic still would have sunk), bridges, planes, punctures to tires, and plenty of other things—including broken hearts.

I guess it's good that duct tape can't be the solution to everything. I mean, if it weren't for duct tape's various inabilities, I wouldn't get to wear Band-Aids with fairies or Spiderman on them, because I would be wearing duct tape—and I have yet to see duct tape with fairies or Spiderman. And I love Band-Aids.

It's also for the best that duct tape can't make our broken hearts better. I'd much rather rely on God for that. It may sometimes take longer than just slapping something sticky on there, but it's worth it.

And you may end up finding more polka dots and other fun patterns than any roll of tape could ever bring you.