I know I sent this to you before but thought I'd post it here too as it was just published a couple of weeks ago online on our church magazine website.
When My Running Shoes Are On: Praying
and Listening Across the Miles
Emily Huff
“Help me, help me,
help me.”
“Thank you,
thank you, thank you.”
I
repeated these phrases over and over in my mind last summer as I ran in the 2014
Seattle marathon. I was praying these words to keep me going in a difficult
race, and I was asking God to help my friends Abby and Jens, and thanking him for what he
was doing in their lives. Author Anne Lamott says that “Help me” and “Thank you”
are the two main prayers we need. This is true for me; they have been a mantra
as I’ve journeyed in my faith, asking God to teach me to pray and to open my
eyes and ears to his voice over the years. Through it all, one thing’s been
clear: he’s been answering that prayer when my running shoes are on.
Marathon training is intense and requires
a significant chunk of time. With so many hours pounding the pavement, I’ve asked
God to help me steward this time so that it would be more than just about setting
a personal record or getting into shape. Over the last few years, I’ve felt nudges
from the Spirit to use my training as prayer time for specific people and
circumstances. And I’m pretty sure these nudges came because God knew that I
could use some help in this area. Listening in prayer is a definite growth edge
for me as I’m one of those people with a bunch of plates spinning
simultaneously. In short, I don’t slow down very much, and yet, with running, I
already have this training space carved out for me. God has been gracious to
help me learn to make space for him through these times.
When I signed up for the Seattle
Marathon last spring, I could not get my friends Abby Butler and Jens Herman
out of my mind. Abby was a student teacher I supervised at Vanderbilt
University in 2007 who became a dear family friend over the years. Her fiancé, Jens,
suffers from cystic fibrosis. Last spring Jens’ pulmonary function test
(PFT) measured only sixteen percent, severely limiting his ability to
breathe. He utilized an oxygen machine throughout the day and every
night while sleeping, and he required a host of inhaled medicines and other
breathing treatments each day. Missing a treatment was not an option.
With such
severe symptoms, Jens was listed as a double lung transplant candidate.
Meanwhile, it was clear to me that I could use my running time to pray for Jens
and Abby and learn from the story God was unfolding in their life together. In this
way, I could come alongside them across the miles as they ran a medical marathon on
the other side of the country.
As I trained for my own marathon,
each run became a spiritual discipline of learning to listen to nudges,
insights, lyrics, and scriptures that came to mind. My eyes and ears were open
as I entered my training runs with a question and a prayer: “God, what do you
have for Jens and Abby today?” As he spoke to me, I journaled reflections each
day in a blog dedicated to my friends.
God gave me windows into their world
even though we were miles and miles apart. For example, I had heard that living
with cystic fibrosis is like breathing through a straw. I could
only imagine this kind of limitation, so I decided to try it myself on one of
my shorter trail runs behind the University of Washington. My goal was to run four
miles breathing in and out through a straw, but after the first five minutes I
realized the oxygen deprivation would not allow me to finish my workout. Instead,
I set some simple goals. I used the straw with ten breaths of running, then
went to eleven, then to twelve, and so on until I got to twenty breaths in and
out through the straw. After each interval, I took a deep breath and filled my
lungs with air.
That air had never felt so
good. My run brought cystic fibrosis closer to home and made me realize how
much I take for granted each time I take a breath. It made me pray hard for
Jens to receive his new lungs. I wanted so badly for him to be able to breathe
effortlessly—without breathing treatments and without being hooked up to a
machine. I just wanted him to be able to fill his lungs with air, to take a simple,
normal deep breath, and to live his life. This experience gave me even more
purpose to my prayers and to my training.
I dealt with some injuries in
my marathon training—a way to feel even more connected to the aches and pains
Jens and Abby were experiencing. As I rehabbed in physical therapy, I knew this was a
time of strength training for them too. I was praying that this time of waiting
for the transplant would be a time in which God gave them the strength for each
step. After one run, I wrote to them: “God, give Abby and Jens strength when the road
seems too long, give them flexibility and perseverance when the pain is
acute, give them laughter when the rain is coming down in buckets and just
won't seem to stop, give them just the right words for each other when
discouragement is at their door, give them deep hope as they enter into
this new chapter in Pittsburgh. Strengthen
them in areas that are weak, help them to love each other well . . . and
teach me to pray and to listen and to love them well too through the
miles.”
I was getting up early to go for
a twenty-mile training run on May 17 when I received the awaited text with the
news that Jens had received a call from the hospital for the transplant. As I
ran for the next three hours, I held Jens and Abby up to God’s light in prayer.
It seemed fitting that I ran past an Episcopal church that had a labyrinth on
the grounds, a perfect symbol as it represented the journey Jens and Abby had
been on. In a reflection on the labyrinth, Caroline Adams writes: “. . . it is
about change, growth, discovery, movement, transformation, continuously
expanding your vision of what is possible, stretching your soul, learning to
see clearly and deeply, listening to your intuition, taking courageous
challenges at every step along the way. You are on the path . . . exactly where
you are meant to be right now . . . and from here, you can only go forward,
shaping your life story into a magnificent tale of triumph, of healing, of
courage, of beauty, of wisdom, of power, of dignity, and of love.”
Jens underwent a double lung
transplant on May 18. Recovery and healing in the hospital began. He was
discharged from the hospital on June 16. He continued to recover well at home; Abby
even posted a video on Facebook of him running up the stairs to his apartment. Talk
about inspiration!
One hundred blog posts and 580
miles of training later, I stood poised to run the Seattle Marathon on June 21.
As luck would have it, I got the flu a week before the race. While not fully
recovered, I still ran the race. I had my fastest half-marathon time in the
first half, but ran out of steam in the second—with no reserve from being sick
the week before. My dear friend and running partner Elizabeth Hutchinson, who had
come to cheer me on, jumped in and ran the second half of the marathon with me,
helping me to the finish line. She kept her hand on my back going up hills and
gave me the extra push I needed when my strength was failing. God showed up
with his grace through my amazing friend. Anne Lamott says it well, “But grace
can be the experience of a second wind, when even though what you want is
clarity and resolution, what you get is stamina and poignancy and the strength
to hang on.”
In the end, my marathon time did
not matter. My reward had been the last sixteen weeks. As I crossed the finish line,
I knew that the medal placed around my neck would fade away. What was crystal
clear was the way the Lord had whispered his love for Jens and Abby over and
over to me in my training space. That will never fade away. In some ways, my
race that day seemed to fit the new reality Jens and Abby were now living.
Things were not yet smooth sailing. As Jens was healing, the days were still long
and grueling. In the same way, my marathon was yet another reminder for me to
lean into dependence on God for strength—for the journey before me on this day
and for Abby and Jens in the days ahead.
After the race, I received a
surprising gift from Abby and Jens in the mail, which has become one of my most
prized treasures. Here is the note I received with their care package:
<ex>Dear Emily: As
I was going through the things we brought home from the
hospital, I came upon the enclosed yellow stethoscope from Jens’ room. Because extra vigilance was
needed to protect him from disease, this stethoscope stayed in the room and was
used only for him. I am sending it to you as a gift. There cannot be a better
symbol of your journey. Love, Abby</ex>
On the front of the stethoscope
Abby had written the following words: Come
and Listen—Psalm 66:16 in permanent marker. I keep the stethoscope on my desk
as a reminder that this is the greatest calling I have: to keep listening to
God’s heartbeat for those with whom we share the Journey—those who have been
given to us and to whom we have been given. I still need lots of coaching and
training, but I’m thankful that God is teaching me and that he pursues me with his
love so I can learn to hear, really hear,
what he is saying.
Bio:
Emily Huff lives in the U-District where she loves to run, rain or shine. Her family includes husband Jason, children Anna and Taylor (12 and 9), and Poppy (bunny).
She has served as the child sponsorship coordinator for Children of the Kingdom for children in India and in Kenya for the last two decades, and also is on faculty in the School of Education at Seattle Pacific University. Check out Emily’s blog for Jens at http://run4jens.blogspot.com/2014/03/first-steps-for-run4jens.html. Emily is happy to report that Jens’ pulmonary function test now stands at ninety-three percent, and that the Huff family will be cheering in the front row at Abby and Jens’ March 2015 wedding in Charleston, SC.
p.s. Funny comment from someone I work with before the article came out:
"I can’t wait to read your story in the UPC magazine. I’m a runner too, but admit I’m not usually praying when I’m running, unless it’s “please, Lord, may this be over soon.”
