Awake Again

Good Morning, World-- It's me, The Pudgy Parson-- who has apparently been hibernating like a bear for the last several months. I've been busy.  You know, with getting set up at a new church and making my house a home and turning twenty five (again).  But I've also been playing games with myself, telling myself that once life settled down, I'd start up again.  Pushing myself to be a runner, even if my muscles were hurting so badly that I cried when I had to walk.

But I'm awake again, really awake.  And I've made a new commitment. I'm starting work with a trainer tonight--which I'll admit makes this pudgy parson more than a little nervous.  I'm one of those people who likes to pretend (at least for myself) that I've got it all together.  I know that when I begin work tonight, I'm going to have to admit to myself (and at least one other person) that I've let myself take the easy route, that I've gotten kinda lazy, that the foods I eat matter, and that I'm not any longer the athletic person that I am in my brain. I'm nervous because this trainer is also a friend of mine but at the same time, I guess I'm excited.  So, I guess this pudgy parson is going to let down her guard and let a friend help me do one of the things I've never been able to do on my own.  (But I'm not above praying that I don't jiggle too much in the process.)

So I'm being brave and taking a step-- and I'm going to recommit myself to documenting the journey in writing. I love the church where I serve, and I'm soon going to be inviting my congregation into this journey, not only to support me, but to partner with me so that we can all make some changes together. I keep reminding myself that part of my job as a pastor is not only to care for myself, but to raise the bar on how we are as a community.

I found one of my old Tae Kwon Do shirts this morning, and was reminded of what used to be my favorite quote.

It is not the critic who counts, nor the man who points out how the strong man stumbled, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, and spends himself in a worthy cause; Who, at the best, knows in the end the triumph of high achievement; and who, at the worst, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat. (Teddy Roosevelt)

I've been the critic. Today I choose to get in the arena.  Today, I remind myself that I am worth fighting for.