I was running in the hills behind Stanford, feeling fried with fatigue. I thought, “I’ve exhausted my heart trying to live up to my concept of God’s expectations. And it’s gotten me nowhere. The only way to repair the damage is by being myself.”
I let my mind drift, thinking its “imperfect” thoughts and sharing them with God. Those thoughts were acutely embarrassing – being oneself (mine, at least) often is.
A huge soccer match was underway at Stanford Stadium, the Women’s World Cup semifinal between the US and Brazil. More than 70,000 people were roaring with the action at the stadium two miles away, while the Goodyear blimp droned overhead. I thought: “Hey, I wonder if the TV guy in the blimp can see me–the nut brown guy down here with his shirt off, wearing a bandana with pink geckos on it.”
I imagined the dialogue between the announcers in the blimp:
“Bob, the weather couldn’t be more perfect for a World Cup match, and the scenery around Stanford University is just magnificent.”
The camera zooms in on the old runner ascending a humongous hill behind the campus.
“Yeah, Jim, and how about that fellow jogging in the hills behind the campus. He’s got gray hair, but then so do we. Yuk-yuk. Think you could handle a hill like that one?”
“Bob, you know me–maybe if you hadn’t filled me with steak at Rickey’s last night. Ha ha.”
“Well, he’s pretty fit for an old guy. We’ll keep you updated on his progress. Meanwhile, a word from Adidas, premier sponsor of the 1999 FIFA Women’s World’s Cup semifinal game at Stanford.”
Mary Ellen’s on vacation in Pittsburgh. I imagine her watching the game with her sister. She shrieks, “Hey, that’s my boyfriend!!” The blimp drifts past, I draw a big “USA!” in the air with my finger, put my palms together and bow to an audience of 30 million viewers worldwide, then turn and tug down my shorts and moon them.
All good ripe fodder for the ego, perhaps – but I was laughing heartily, feeling alive and full of fun and in good spirits. My pace picked up, and for the first time in days I found that I was talking to God from my own earthy reality, and that He was enjoying the gag, letting me feel His lovely smiling joy.
I’d been crying from my heart for God, and I’d reached a point where I could only make myself say the words, but they weren’t my words, and He didn’t come. But He came quickly when I shared my goofiness and wacky blather. After the run, and for the rest of the day, I felt a peace and joy in my heart. Once again, I was restfully aware that I am God’s child.
