In the past couple days I have noticed the neatest thing about my 15 month old son. He is using his imagination! Yesterday when I clipped his toenails, he took the clippers and pretended to clip his, and then my, toenails. And today, when his father left an empty coffee cup on the table, he picked it up and proceeded to “drink” out of it, complete with slurping noises.
Next thing you know, he’ll be inventing whole worlds. I can’t wait!
I have a friend. Her name is Julia.
Everybody say, “Hi, Julia.”
Julia is one of my workout buddies. We recently started training for The Color Run in September, doing the Couch to 5K program. I am not a runner. I’m not built like a runner. I’m chubby. I have short, stubby legs. My sprint is everyone else’s brisk walk. It’s kind of ridiculous. Fortunately, we are doing our training (for the time being) on side-by-side treadmills, since there is no earthly way I could keep up with Julia.
On our first day of training, I was struggling to do the 60 second intervals the workout called for. “75 hours!” Julia hollered at me. “This is nothing! You were in labor for 75 hours! This isn’t even one contraction!” Julia is an excellent workout buddy.
So I began to repay the favor, although to be honest it also helped me power through a difficult workout. “Philippians 4:13! I can do all things through Christ Jesus who gives me strength!” I would yell at her (and myself.) “We are now made more than conquerors through him who loved us and called us according to His purpose! We are running with perseverance the race marked out for us! His strength is made perfect in our weakness! Power through! We’re almost there!”
Occasionally we get funny looks from the body builders on the floor beneath us. I might care if I were using this as a ministry tool. It would be the least effective one ever. Can you imagine? Just going up to a stranger and screaming random Bible verses at them? Now pretend they’re 300 pounds of solid muscle and have biceps bigger than your head. Probably not a God-inspired activity this one.
But I don’t care what they think. Because I’m too busy living an overcoming life, walking in victory, and forcibly taking back territory in my life that the enemy used to own. So who cares if they think I’m the crazy lady on the treadmill? Not me. Not Julia. We’re too busy writing the word on our hearts. And yelling it in each other’s ears.
If you have never been to my house and you saw this picture, you might mistakenly assume we have only one seat. You would be wrong – there are several places to plop your posterior. However, apparently my son and my dog have decided they need to defy the laws of physics and simultaneously attempt to occupy the same point in space and time.
It has been decided that this particular seat is the best one in the house. Much wrangling ensued.
There was climbing.
Wailing and gnashing of teeth.
Finally an agreement was reached, one in which no one really moved at all. But everyone is smiling and giving kisses so we’ll call it a win.
My son LOVES Mexican food. He is his mother’s child. He is particularly fond of black beans. And I love when he eats black beans because of the peculiar phenomenon that occurs.
He becomes the only toddler I know with a five o’clock shadow.