You don't have to remember love

Often we forget things, but you don't forget what you don't have to remember.

I took a professional development course on memory today, and it was interesting to discuss our minds and how they process the information we are given. Memory is a tricky thing. There are sometimes things that we can easily recall, and there are some things that truly make us struggle as we try to dig into the backs of our minds and pull out information that was once fresh in there. I'm sure there is some scientific explanation for all of this.

I hate science.

When I was in college at Texas A&M, I took a required biology class and hated every second of it. I think one reason I don't like science is because I'm so bad at it. I can spout off random dates and names of the historical context, I can even recall many mathematical formulas that I won't ever use in my daily life, and I can tell you countless sports statistics that might not carry as much importance in your life as they do in mine, but in no easy manner can I tell you any part of the Krebs Cycle or what molecular compositions are. I don't how the eukaryotic cell separates chromosomes during mitosis, and I am not interested in exploring the topic any further.

I will never know this.

But, because I never remembered any scientific information, I never fully understood the material, and so I didn't do as well in my science classes as I would have preferred. And, needless to say, I was useless in all of the labs. Thank goodness TAs supervise those and then grade your lab reports. They were a bit more lenient in grading than my professor was on my tests.

And I still don't even know how to use a microscope. (I promise I'm not an idiot—I actually made really good grades in the other subjects.)

The great thing about love is that you don't have to memorize anything to be able to experience it. There's no specific formula, there's no definitive process, and you don't have to develop a headache trying to bring back information you once "learned."

It's way simpler than that: just love.

The way we treat others should come naturally to us, and I think memory sometimes hinders that. If someone has wronged us in the past, and we let those memories resurface, we might not be so inclined to love that person.

And that's not a good thing.

When it comes to love, I think there are times when it's better to have no memory at all. When Jesus died on the cross for us, He used a giant "delete" button to remove the stains of sin forever from our lives. Those sins are forgotten—they're not going to be drawn up from memory and used against us.

So why should we not do the same?

Obviously I'm not saying memory is useless. I memorize things all of the time. I even know random license plates (I'm honestly not a creeper). I love seemingly useless information that's stored in people's minds and sporadically pops up in fitting situations.

But you don't have to memorize anything to know how to love.

You can repeat all of the Bible verses you want—and they are definitely good to know by heart—but if you don't actually know how to live out what Jesus preached and modeled, then it's all for naught. Love is an action, so just do it with a clear mind.

And once you know how to love, you're not going to forget it. 

Magnetic zest

I got some pretty solid advice from a magnet yesterday.

"Live your life with zest."

It was a nice find in the Target $1 section, where many of life's hidden treasures wait for lucky suckers to stumble upon them. You might wonder why anyone would need random magnets with cheery little sayings on them, but you'd be surprised how many Save the Dates and Christmas cards a person can get.

So, as I sat there on a Friday night watching Tangled, waiting for the Rangers game to start, and suffering from what was quite possibly one of the worst cases of food poisoning known to man, I was able to reflect upon just how much better life is with a bit of zest in it, and Rapunzel is living proof of this. I mean, look at how boring her life was living up in that tower and never getting to experience all that the world below her had to offer.

There was no zest.

Then along came Flynn Rider (well, Eugene), and everything changed. Suddenly, there was zest, and suddenly there was happiness.

Suddenly, there was love.

Cheap wisdom

I really love the word zest (how can you say it without feeling happy and spunky?!), and I love the value it adds to things when used in adjective form. And I really love when magnets tell people to make sure they have zest in their lives.

And the great thing about zest is that it can come in so many forms.

A new pair of running shoes needs to encounter dirt or a puddle or at least some morning dew to make some marks and add some zest. No one wants clean running shoes—that's not zesty.

Notice how many people have become addicted to Pinterest? That site is full of ways to add zest to one's life, whether through recipes, new hair styles, or those quirky and sassy picture e-cards that say fun things on them, such as: "I prefer not to think before speaking. I like being just as surprised as everyone else by what comes out of my mouth."

Ever do something a bit daring, like skydiving, telling a guy how you feel about him, or performing Taylor Swift's "Love Story" to an entire crowd of unexpecting guests at a wedding reception? I think we often do these things because we need to spice our lives up a bit—we need some zest.

You know what I think is the best way to add zest to your life and to the lives of others at the same time?

Love.

It's sometimes hard to show love, especially to people to whom we don't necessarily want to be loving—you know, the ones who challenge us the most. But by doing our best to love others and truly show them who Christ is, we are sprinkling little seeds of zest all over the place.

And then you will be able to let others desire to know the depths of Christ's love and the fact that He can turn up in the most unlikely places—even on a $0.25 magnet (it was a pack of four).

Life is definitely not always easy, and there are times when it can be extremely challenging to let love win. But you have to dare to be different.

Dare to be zesty.

Wave diving

I love standing on the shore of the ocean and letting the waves crash at my feet.

But sometimes you actually have to venture past the shoreline and into those waves.

I was in Florida this week, and the weather was pretty close to perfect (minus the humidity). The water was absolutely beautiful, but there were definitely points where I thought it was way too cold, and I actually preferred just standing on the beach and looking out at the amazing world God created. But, let's be honest, you can't go all the way to the beach and not get in the water. So, of course, I had to suck it up and endure what I thought were cold temps so I could go hang with the fam in the waves.

My mom invented somewhat of a little game that she called "wave diving," where she dove into the waves that came toward us. (These "waves" were actually more like little bumps in the water, but to each his own.) Even though I didn't find as much of a thrill as she did in this, it was fun to see my mom so excited about these tiny waves.

Like I said, the waves I enjoy the most are the ones that crash into the shore. There is something about standing there that is so peaceful—the waves can't actually hurt you, and they feel so good as they soak your feet while you take in the wonder of the creation all around you.

Go beyond the shoreline.

But you can't be perpetual a shore-stander.

Life is full of waves and bumps that come our way, and they aren't always going to crash serenely at our feet. There are going to be times where we have to take them head-on and take part in our own form of wave diving. It's not always going to be pleasant—sometimes the water is going to be cold, it might get up your nose, it's going to leave sand and salt in your hair, and it might even cause part or all of your swimsuit to come off.

And it doesn't end there.

One thing about waves is that they don't exactly travel alone. They just keep coming, and we just have to keep diving into them and trusting that the One who created the majesty that is the ocean and all of its mysteries will carry us through even these most trying times.

Because, eventually, we will be back on the shore with the waves crashing at our feet.

The shoreline is nice, but it's also safe. While the ocean is fun, it's not always the most pleasant experience to venture out into it, especially if you are walking slowly. Sometimes you just have to try to start running out into the water as the waves try to tackle you, and the temperatures try to sway you back to the shore. There are lessons in each wave, and they are all worth learning.

There are definitely certain areas of my life where I really don't like being taken out of my comfort zones. It's hard to be challenged and to take on the unexpected when we aren't feeling safe. It's in these moments where I have to remind myself even more that everything is truly out of my hands, and I shouldn't try to hold on to what I can't. He's the One in control, and I need to be more than OK with that. I need enter the cold water and dive into the waves that try to rise above my head.

And, even though it won't be easy, I need to leave the shoreline every once in a while.

Don't let go!

I definitely remember what it's like to be a little kid learning to swim but not quite able to trust your parents to keep you from drowning.

I was at my pool today, and a mom was trying to teach her little boy how to swim. Expectedly, he preferred to stick with his floaty and clinched to it with his dear life. The mom, however, was set that her son would learn to swim today. The conflicting opinions caused quite the challenge in the task at hand actually being accomplished.

After frustration got the best of her, the mom finally took the floaty from Chase (she used his name enough for me to catch on) and set it outside of his reach on the side of the pool. So then he started clinging to her. I used to teach swim lessons, and I felt for her in trying to overcome the brute strength of little kids when they think their lives are at stake. One thing Chase kept telling his mother was, "Don't let go of me! Don't let go of me!" He repeated this so many times that I created a little song of it in my head while I was half reading my book and half absorbing the scene around me.

It doesn't have to be scary.

Even though Chase was right there in the hands of his mom, he was still so afraid of drowning. He has to know on some level that she loves him dearly and would never let anything bad happen to him, but there is still that anxiety present when caught in the struggles of life (or, in his case, swimming in our apartment complex pool), that we aren't going to be able to stay afloat. As an outside observer, I knew that Chase's mom would reach her hand out to her precious little one the instant he started to flounder. But this afternoon, little Chase could not be convinced of that, no matter what his mom said or did.

Chase didn't learn to swim today, but I think progress was made for this little guy. He batted the water a bit and seemed to get the kicking (and profuse splashing) of the legs down, so we might see him chasing (unintentional pun) some Michael Phelps records years down the road.

I think we are all a little bit like Chase a lot of the time. We know that God is with us always, and we know He will help us when we feel like we are drowning, yet we are not convinced that we are truly safe. But God loves us even more than Chase's mom loves him, and He wants us to keep swimming. He wants us to keep stroking toward Him and all His goodness.

But we have to be willing to give up our floaties and try.

That's hot

I would much rather live on a fireball than on an iceberg.

I truly hate the cold and love summer. July might be my favorite month, even though I know people cringe at the thought of the perpetual heat index of 162 in which we find ourselves in Texas during this month. It's also no the best time of year to run quality racing times, but it sure is fabulous in so many other regards.

Now, I realize many people disagree with me and find the Texas summer heat to be miserable. But, I've come up with multiple reasons as to why the triple digits are actually pretty awesome.

-When you do go running, you can embrace your inner Gatorade commercial. When that sweat is dripping down your face (and every other part of your body, for that matter), just picture yourself as one of those ridiculously fit athletes, with the words "Is it in you?" printed across the screen of your life. I promise your pace will pick up a bit when you do so.

-You don't have to worry about the icy sting of cold water when you first jump in the pool. In fact, at times, it may feel more like a bathtub or hot tub. But at least you won't be timidly touching the water with your toe or making the slow, torturous entrance on the steps into something that feels like the Atlantic waters that froze the passengers of the Titanic.

-Honestly, you really don't need to check the forecast if you're concerned about what you should wear. I can help you out with that right now. The forecast: scorching hot. What you should wear: as little as possible without being scandalous.

-It's baseball season. Go Rangers! Enough said. (Just be thankful you aren't the one out there in long pants, standing in a field as the blazing sun beats down on you.)

-It sure makes a lot more sense for you to run through your neighbor's sprinklers. It also doesn't seem so strange to set up some long, ugly yellow mat in your front yard, run water over it, then run and throw your body on it, sending you sliding as you hope you don't hit some random twig or divot you missed when you covered the ground with your Slip 'N Slide.

-Come on, you know it's slightly entertaining how people continuously post the weekly forecasts and the temps on their dashboards all over Facebook. We get it—it's hot. Still, if you want a little chuckle, just peruse your news feed, focusing mostly on your Texas friends.

Summer goodness

-Two words: snow cones. It's beautiful that shaved ice and artificial flavoring can come together to make such a marvelous treat to chill your mind yet warm your heart every summer.

You may think the heat is horrible, but it's really not all that bad. It's just a period of your life you have to endure.

We will often find ourselves in the heat waves of life, when it feels like everything is beating us down, and there's no way we can win our battles. But God gives us resources to overcome these obstacles. But, just like uncovering the subtle pleasures of grueling summers, you sometimes have to dig a little more deeply than you might wish.

And when you get to the end of those struggles, God will be there with your favorite snow cone in His hand, which is right where you've been all along.

Saving turtles

I am constantly amazed by the amazing people who surround me.

And, no, Pollyanna didn't hijack my blog.

Yesterday, I was chatting with my friend Claudia, and she was telling me a story about how she saved a turtle that was trying to cross the street in the middle of a busy intersection. People looked at her like she was crazy as she darted to rescue the reptile and even almost got hit by a truck while doing so. She then took it down to the nearby water so that he could once again be safe in his natural habitat.

Without Claudia, that turtle likely would have met its doom. I mean, according to Indiana Turtle Care, there are some turtles that can outrun humans, but I've yet to see a turtle moving that quickly, and I don't think Claudia's turtle was going anywhere close to the posted speed limit. (The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles are exceptions to this, and I think we all know they are too fast and awesome for cars to frazzle them.)

We've all been there, buddy.

Like that turtle, we often find ourselves caught in the busy intersections of life and in desperate need to be swept up and taken to safety. All we want to do is tuck our heads into our shells and hide from the world. Thankfully, when that happens, we have a loving God who is more than happy to stop all of the cars in those chaotic intersections from coming anywhere near us. He lovingly picks us up and takes us exactly where we need to go—to the places where we are safe and wrapped in His caring arms.

And there are also times when we have to help out those turtles in need, as well. In his book Love Does, the witty and brilliant Bob Goff reminds us that, "We were all meant to save many lives. God is always trying to save lives, and it seems He uses the least likely people to do it." When we see those turtles struggling, we need to step up and help those people who are stuck in the road and feel helpless with nowhere to go. You might be just that person who can help another pull his or her head out of the shell and find the strength to keep on going. After all, we all know what it feels like to be helpless turtles.

Sometimes in life we're going to be turtles, and sometimes we are going to be turtles rescuers.

Either way, we've got to get our heads out of our shells and face whatever comes our way with faith and the unshakeable bravery to dodge cars in even the busiest intersections.

The Skipper

Symbols often carry different meanings for different people.

Most people have distance stickers on the back of their cars to show they've achieved certain milestones by running those races. I have a 13.1 sticker on the back of my car, but I never actually think of running that distance when I see it. I've run marathons, and even the hated (and oddly/sickly loved) El Scorcho is farther than a half marathon. But, when I see that sticker, the only thing that comes to mind is how caring and supportive my dad is.

At the last half I ran back in February, I was really sore afterward and had some weird, miscellaneous pain in my lower back that the chiropractic and/or massage guy there said was something out of alignment and that he could take care of it. I gladly allowed him to start working his magic, so I got on the table and honestly thought I fell into some sort of a coma for a moment. At some point, my dad came over to tell me they were selling 13.1 stickers, and he wanted to buy me one. I told him the black with white writing would be better when he gave me the options, and he excitedly left to go get it.

When the magic man cured whatever pain had been wearing out its welcome on my body, I stood up, and my dad happily presented me with my new present. He said I should wait to put it on my car until later—the weather has been crummy all three years at the Stonebridge Half, and this year was no exception with the cold rain. Then he said something that just made my heart smile.

"I know you've run marathons, but the half is kinda like your specialty, and I know it's your favorite. Plus, you need something to symbolize your three-peat."

In that moment, I didn't even care about any of that. All I could think about was how thankful I was to have my dad as my dad.

The Skipper kicks a**.

As I've mentioned before, my dad comes to all of my races and even calls himself my "Race Guru," which I think is absolutely awesome. He really takes care of me and makes sure I'm ready to go before each race. He carries my backpack while I race, and he and my mom always arrive about as early as I do so they can be with me from start to finish. He snaps his tradition pre-race pics and is always there waiting for me at the finish line.

I love the fact that my dad (and mom, of course) is my biggest fan, and he is always there for me in other areas of my life, as well.

When I was in college, I worked at a rec center in my hometown, and a volleyball pole fell on my head the day before my graduation. Thankfully, I was taken to the hospital where my dad worked, and of course he showed up when he found out what had happened. He even went to the vending machine for me when I spouted off the exact number of the Nature Valley bars' code that I had noticed when we passed it on the way in to the place where I got my head stapled. I'm sure my dad was probably supposed to be doing something else at the time, but he stayed with me, instead, while I panicked that my head was going to have to be shaved if I had to get stitches. (Thank God they don't do that for staples. Shallow, I know.)

Then, last summer we went on a family hike, and I was still recovering from a fractured hip injury. After what seemed like forever had gone by during this walk, my hip started to hurt quite a bit. My dad noticed when I fell back some and then offered to carry me the rest of the way. My dad had bilateral knee replacement surgery, and here he was saying he would carry his 26-year-old daughter up and down hilly terrain. (My sister then actually tried to carry me, but that ended up being an uncomfortable situation, to say the least, and so I insisted on walking.) But the fact that my dad was willing to risk his knees once again shows just how caring he is.

Skipper is one of the most unique and awesome people you will ever meet, and I can't thank him enough for how much he's done for all of the Merrill crew throughout our lives. He would do anything for us, and I love that about my dad.

What's even more amazing is that our heavenly Father loves us even more than that. He's even more than a Race Guru—He's a Life Guru who will always be there for us, cheering for us every single step we take throughout our journeys.


I'm an average runner, but my dad thinks I'm special. We may not always feel significant, but our Father adores us.

I love symbols and the truths they hold. My 13.1 sticker will always make me thankful for my dad. The cross will always make me praise the One who loves us enough to die for our sins.

Father's Day is definitely a time to be thankful for our fathers and our Father.