OK, so here is the story about these lists of love songs. A few years
ago (2007) I decided to make a CD of love songs to give away to friends
and family in celebration of our anniversary. Since getting married was
the best decision I ever made I thought it appropriate to spread the
love.

Here are the playlists that I've used so far. I am still
working on my 2010 list. And, I am always appreciative of suggestions –
especially new songs, since I tend to hear only the songs played on NPR
or at Gold's Gym.

I hope you will go to YouTube and listen to
these, and then buy them, so you can play them with your lover and your
hearts can go soft together and your future will be brighter. And, all
that.

2009
Love Song Play List (30th Anniversary)

Reading The Jesuit Guide to (Almost) Everything by James Martin, S.J., one
of the early companions of Ignatius, who said, “The road is our home.”

I am pretty sure what Nadal didn’t
mean was what Merle Haggard sang about the road as his home, “I’ve had ramblin’
fever all along.” Nadal’s road was not a road of escape from duty and
relationships, but a path toward God.

I also don’t think he meant a road
as home like Willie Nelson, who sang, “I just can’t wait to get on the road
again.” For Nelson the road itself was only a means to an end, the interval
between concerts. For Nadal, I think the road was his final destination.

I’m not exactly sure what Jeronimo
Nadal meant, but I think he meant that a life of prayer and contemplation was
not enough unless it was also moving down the road. A follower of Jesus is
expected to lead an active life, to be a “contemplative in action.”

Most of my own contemplation comes
at one of two times: while I am writing raw thoughts in my journal, or more
often, while I am moving my feet down the road (running or hiking).

The reason I have been thinking
about roads is because of what my newest friends, Gary and Peter and Carl and Chad,
told me last weekend. I was at a very small men’s retreat (almost like private
lessons) where we spent many hours talking about God’s calling on our life. We
told our life stories, we discussed images that described various aspects of
our heart, we talked about movies and books and music and wives and friends. We
were strangers to each other when we first arrived, but they soon knew as much
about me as my longest friends. One theme the guys saw in my life was repeated
references to paths and trails and bridges and doorways. Roads. I live my life
on the road.

I knew it was correct the minute I
heard it. In my mind and heart I am always on the road. I hope my road is not
like Willie Nelson’s or Merle Haggard’s, but rather a road into the future
toward God. I want to believe my best days are ahead of me, just a bit further
down the road. I hope my closest days with God are down this pathway and my
best times with Cyndi are across that elegant bridge. Not that my best is
always out of reach, but that my best is ahead of me. I want to live a life
moving into the future down this road, toward God’s best.

Jon
Katz wrote (The Bedlam Farm Journal) about Joseph Campbell, who had an idea
that most people are either security or mythically driven. Security-conscious
people make deliberate choices about their life. They have money saved, jog and
exercise, are prepared for recessions, retirement, illness, and beyond.

Mythically-driven people are
different, and they make different choices. They take risks, and make
deliberate decisions that the choices they make may not result in security as
most Americans define it – money in the bank, fat IRAs, mortgage paid off.

So far, I’ve spent my life on the
security road. Yet, surprisingly, as I’ve gotten older I’ve veered
incrementally toward a more mythically-driven path. I would’ve expected the
trend to go the opposite direction. I had expected age would make me even more
cautious and anxious for security.

Campbell said mythically-driven people risk
everything for their dreams. While I doubt I’ve ever risked everything for
anything, I often wish I was more risky with my dreams. I know my dreams are
taking up more space in my life and security is taking up less, but the ratio
is still far from 50/50.

One more song reference: Russ Taff
wrote a song titled Farther On,
saying, “Now I’m standing on this road your hand has brought me to; you
faithful love will lead me farther on.” So while I don’t want to stand on the
road, I want to keep moving. But even more, I want to stay on the road God’s
hand has pushed me to.

There was something else the guys
pointed out to me over the weekend: I don’t want to go alone. As much as I talk
about my need for solitude, I have an even bigger need to travel the road with
my group. I don’t care whether I am in the lead, but I want us to keep moving
together. I want you with me.

“I run in the path of Your
commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32

To learn more about Berry’s newest book, “Running
With God:” www.runningwithgodonline.com

Follow Berry on Twitter at @berrysimpson … Contact
Berry directly: berry@stonefoot.org

I was reading I Corinthians 1:1
where the Apostle Paul described himself as being “called as an apostle of
Jesus Christ by the will of God.”

I wrote in the margin, “He is
confident of his position.” For myself, I often choke on the phrase – called by
God. I’m not sure I have a right to make that claim. I believe it
intellectually, but struggle with it practically.

It is easier for me to say “I am a
petroleum engineer” since I have a university degree to back it up. Easier to
say “I am a marathoner” since I have a collection of finish medals to prove it.
Easier to say “I am a deacon” or “I am a teacher” since I have a certificate in
my file cabinet and a class full of people.

But to say “I have been called by
God,” to teach or write, is harder. I’m not sure why. Now that I have published
my first book I can say “I am an author” with confidence, but to say “I am
called” is harder.

Maybe making a claim to have been
called by God, like the Apostle Paul did, assumes an endorsement by God,
implies a level of skill and talent that seems presumptuous to claim for
myself.

Yet I can describe multiple distinct
encounters in my life when God spoke to me about my life as a writer and as a
teacher in unmistakable ways. When he told me to start publishing weekly
journals and when he called me out on that picnic table at Wild at Heart camp,
just to mention two. While I may be reluctant to claim being called by God
because I don’t have a medal or a success to show off, I cannot deny those
encounters with God.

I doubt I’m alone in my reluctance.
I imagine most people feel the same way I do. It is always easier to see God’s
calling on someone else’s life than to see it in our own. More than one person
in the Bible resisted being called by God.

For example, Moses argued with God
about his calling even while standing barefoot in front of the burning bush.
You’d think that would’ve convinced him. And Gideon pulled a double stunt, the
wet fleece/dry fleece bit, hoping to understand the call that he feared. He’s
lucky he wasn’t slapped down by the angel sent to give him the message. And
even though God called Jeremiah to be a prophet before he was born, as soon as
he was old enough to object he said, “I don’t know how to speak’ I’m only a
child.”

Maybe some level of reluctance is a
good thing. Maybe that’s what keeps us leaning into God to fulfill the calling
rather than using our own ego. Maybe the humble spirit God is looking for is
hidden within that reluctance. That is, as long as reluctance doesn’t turn into
rebellion.

Well, I was thinking about this
journal today while I ran. And while I ran I listened to a podcast by Erwin
McManus who asked the question: “Are you doing what you were born to do?” I
couldn’t believe it. How did McManus know I needed to hear this very question
back on May 9^th when he preached it?

He asked, “Are you doing what you’re
doing on purpose?” Otherwise we are like a big log floating downstream wherever
the current takes it, hanging up on brush, bumping into rocks, jamming with
other logs. Understanding what God has called us to do demands intentional
action on our part.

McManus said, “We all want to be the
guy up front swinging the ax, but few have the discipline to sharpen their
skills.” He quoted Ecclesiastes 10:10 (NIV): “If the ax is dull and its
edge unsharpened, more strength is needed but skill will bring success.”
Realizing your call from God can be frightening, since with great power and
energy comes even greater obligation and expectation. We have to hone the
skills God has given us.

So I’m headed north to Colorado this weekend to
attend a small gathering of men where we’ll explore this very notion of our
calling. The retreat will be led by Gary Barkalow (www.TheNobleHeart.com),
whose voice has been one of the most influential in my life these past ten
years. I am excited about the opportunity to understand more.

And so I’ll ask you, where do you
see yourself in this discussion? What has God called you to do? Is it too scary
to talk about yet? Are you sharpening your skills? Are you waiting to hear?

“I run in the path of Your
commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32

To learn more about Berry’s newest book, “Running
With God:” http://www.runningwithgodonline.com/

Follow Berry on Twitter at @berrysimpson … Contact
Berry directly: berry@stonefoot.org

I have been thinking a lot about my
heart lately.

Maybe it’s because I’m two weeks
into one of my 40-day challenges and several of my workouts are aimed directly
at strengthening my heart. Yesterday I spent 40 minutes on a recumbent exercise
bike at Gold’s Gym just for my heart. I like that style of bike because I can
read my book while spinning (“A Farewell to Arms,” by Ernest Hemmingway), and
it requires no skills other than perseverance and patience. I ride the bike
simply to burn calories and train my heart for the next mountain trek.

Or maybe it’s because of my friend David whose heart stopped beating suddenly in the
middle of a basketball game, a condition noted in his official medical report
as “sudden death.” David
miraculously recovered after considerable effort on the part of doctors and
nurses and the entire town, and I have already booked him a spot on our next
mountain hike next fall. Maybe his story made me more aware of the condition of
my own heart.

Or maybe it’s because my 31^st
anniversary is coming up and I’ve been listening to a lot of love songs and my
heart is soft.

Or maybe it’s because I’ve been
working on my second book which is about guarding my heart and feeding my
heart.

Or maybe it’s because I’ve been
reading Proverbs in the mornings and Proverbs says a surprisingly lot about the
heart. For example, Proverbs 14:30 says, “A heart at peace gives life to the
body, but envy rots the bones.” Well, my heart is hardly at peace when I’m
spinning, but I certainly don’t envy the big-muscle guy on the bike beside me.
I’d hate to have to haul all of those heavy muscles around a marathon course no
matter how good they look in a ripped T-shirt.

Proverbs 3:5 says, “Trust in the
Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding;” This is not
as easy as it sounds for an analytical problem-solver who tends to trust his
own judgment and understanding over anyone and everyone else’s. How do I do
this even a little bit, much less how do I do it with all my heart?

Or this one: Proverbs 22:17 says,
“Pay attention and listen to the sayings of the wise; apply your heart to what
I teach.” Again with the heart? Why doesn’t it say apply your mind, behavior,
plans and dreams? Why heart?

And another, Proverbs 23:12 says,
“Apply your heart to instruction and your ears to words of knowledge.” I tend
to think of my heart as the passive part of me, the “result” of me, the part of
me I’m supposed to guard and protect. I think of my intellect as the front
line, the part I’m supposed to engage with, the active part. Yet, here, he says
to “apply my heart.” That sounds active to me.

Proverbs means something besides
heart muscles when it says heart, but it’s hard to know exactly what. Proverbs
often contrasts the heart with the mind but it uses those terms in
non-physiological ways. I think heart in Proverbs refers to the way we feel and
think and dream. I suspect it’s a more holistic reference than the mind. Yet,
there are no footnotes in Proverbs explaining the terminology, at least none
written by the original authors, so there is a lot of guesswork involved.

Or maybe the reason I’ve been
thinking so much about my heart is because of what I read in Proverbs 20:5 –
“The purposes of a man’s heart are deep waters …” I remember hearing at Wild at
Heart Camp that we have to get out in the deep water to know God. Gary Barkalow
taught from Luke 5:4-6, where Jesus told Simon Peter to “put out into deep
water and let down their nets for a catch.” Simon heard Jesus that day because
he was willing to follow Jesus into the deeper waters. Barkalow said that we
will hear Jesus call when we go with him out into the deeper waters … we have
to get out of the safe shallows if we want to hear Jesus.

Maybe that’s a peek into why God
says throughout Proverbs to focus on our heart – it’s the deep end of the pool.

“I run in the path of Your
commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32

To learn more about Berry’s newest book, “Running
With God:” http://www.runningwithgodonline.com/

Follow Berry on Twitter at @berrysimpson … Contact
Berry directly: berry@stonefoot.org

Saturday afternoon I was at Lowe’s
buying a few PVC pieces for our drip irrigation system when I heard the song
“I’d Really Love to See You Tonight,” by England Dan and John
Ford Coley (1976). I instinctively grabbed my phone and texted the lyrics to
Cyndi: “There’s a warm wind blowing, the stars are out, and I’d really love to
see you tonight.” We often send lyrics to each other.

Cyndi texted back, “It’s 61 degrees
outside. The warm breeze must be coming from inside your heart. Thanks. I love
you.”

Later we were talking about that
song and I said, “I couldn’t text the line – I don’t want to change your life.
Changing your life is one of my main objectives.”

She said, “I know. Me too.”

I said, “And I hope you keep
changing mine.”

She said, “I know. Me too.”

I had been listening to an audio
book by Elizabeth Gilbert titled Committed:
A Skeptic Makes Peace With Marriage. She wrote, “Love limits, almost by
definition. Love narrows. The great expansion we feel in our hearts when we
fall in love is matched only by the great restrictions that will necessarily
follow.”

To personalize Gilbert’s writing, I
would say Cyndi and I have an easygoing relationship, but don’t be fooled: I
have claimed her as my own. Her energies belong to me and to no one else – not
even entirely to herself anymore. She owes me things like information,
explanations, fidelity, constancy, and details about the most mundane little
aspects of her life. And I belong to her, in exactly the same measure.
Elizabeth Gilbert wrote about her husband, “I have therefore fenced him off
from the rest of the herd.”

The Apostle Paul wrote the same
thing in I Corinthians 7:4 – “For the wife has no longer full rights over her
own person, but shares them with her husband. In the same way the husband
shares his personal rights with his wife.”

For some people, these may be good
reasons never to get married. Why allow another person rights over your own
body? Who would want that? Wouldn’t you rather be in charge of yourself and not
have to answer to anyone?

The verse reminded me of a scene in
the movie Air Force One (1997) with
Harrison Ford, after the airplane had been hijacked and the president chose NOT
to use the secret escape pod but instead remained on the plane. When his team
back in Washington
learned that he didn’t take the opportunity to escape one of them criticized
his decision: “He has no right not to escape. Doesn’t he know he belongs to the
country and not to himself?” (That is an approximate quote; it’s been awhile
since I last saw the movie.)

His point was that the office of
President was bigger than the selfish wishes of one single man. The President
of the United States
lived his life in a bigger story and he was responsible to a wider sphere.

I think that is what Apostle Paul
was talking about in I Corinthians when he said neither husbands nor wives have
absolute rights over themselves, but they belong to each other. We give up our
personal rights in order to live in a bigger story, to move beyond our selfish
personal self-interest and live in a wider sphere.

Again, from Elizabeth Gilbert, “This
is what intimacy does to us over time. That’s what a long marriage can do: It
causes us to inherit and trade each other’s stories. This, in part, is how we
become annexes of each other, trellises on which each other’s biography can
grow. His private history becomes a piece of my memory; my life gets woven into
the material of his.”

As for me, I like being woven into
Cyndi’s story. It’s true that I go to great lengths to keep my life private and
to limit my exposure and to minimize expectations and to keep to myself. Yet
being responsible to Cyndi and knowing she has ownership over my personal
rights is one of the best parts of my life. I don’t resent checking in with
Cyndi before scheduling something on my calendar – rather, I am happy to have
someone to check in with, someone who cares enough about me to have an opinion.
I’m glad to know I am not alone but on a team with someone else.

To learn more about Berry’s newest book, “Running
With God:” http://www.runningwithgodonline.com/

Follow Berry on Twitter at @berrysimpson … Contact
Berry directly: berry@stonefoot.org

“The more afraid you are, the
heavier your pack will be,” said Dr. Warren Doyle, legendary Appalachian
Trail hiker, and his words caused me to stop working and pull out
my 3×5 cards to make notes. I was listening to a podcast called ATHiking while
working on the drip irrigation system we use to water the potted plants in
front of our house. Dr. Doyle was talking about backpacking and how we tend to
load too much heavy stuff into our packs “just in case.” The more things we are
afraid of the more gear we pack, and the heavier our pack becomes.

I remembered reading a similar
sentiment from Erin McKittrick, who wrote a book about trekking 4,000 miles
from Seattle to the Aleutian
Islands with her husband, titled A Long Trek Home: “Backpacks are the curse of backpackers. If we
carried nothing we could be light and agile on our feet. But we would also be
spending all our time simply trying to survive.” She continued, “Each ounce we
carried made our trip more possible, more enjoyable, more comfortable, and
safer. And each ounce we carried made our trip less possible, less enjoyable,
less comfortable, and less safe.”

When I go up into the Guadalupe Mountains I take some gear other
backpackers would leave behind to save weight. I take a tent because I like
having my stuff inside with me and I like my privacy, and because I am afraid
of getting rained on. Those might seem silly since I do most of my backpacking
in the desert in one of the least-crowded National Parks in America, but it has rained at least
one night during almost every one of my trips. I am considering trying a
lightweight tarp instead of a full tent during the warmer months. It does seem
funny to worry about privacy when the actual number of times I have shared a
camp site with other hikers is outnumbered by the number of times I have been
rained on.

I take an air mattress because I am
afraid of the aches and pains I get from sleeping on the ground.

I take three gallons of water
because I am afraid of running out. However, at eight pounds per gallon, I
should consider taking less water. I should push myself on this and take some
risk and try to lower the weight.

I take a headlamp, not because I am
worried about being outside after dark, which I seldom am other than for waste
disposal, but because I am afraid of not being able to read my book or write in
my journal at night in my tent.

I take an emergency bivi bag on my
solo day hikes because it makes Cyndi happy and in case I turn my knee or blow
out my ankle and, being unable to hike out, have to wait alongside the trail
until someone comes along, which could be days.

Some places where I have reduced
weight by accepting risk are leaving changes of clothes at home, taking a
smaller first aid kit, doing little or no cooking.

But of course the reason I heard the
quote by Dr. Doyle so clearly was because his statement was bigger than
backpacking. Fear adds weight to our life. Fear presses down on us and limits
our movements and squashes our freedom. Fear makes us heavy on our feet, and
unlikely to try new things. Jon Katz wrote in his blog, Bedlam Farm Journal, “Fear is a great depleter, and the more you
feel it, the less you feel the wonder of life. Fear kills the adventure of
life.”

Wow, I guess I should ask myself, why all these quotes about fear?
Where did this come from? What am I afraid of?

I can answer that. I am most afraid of looking silly. That fear shapes
more of my behaviors than I am willing to let people know about. I am sure it
has held me back from many adventures that God has put in front of me.

However, I don’t believe it is as heavy a load on me today as it was a
dozen years ago. Just as growing and maturing as a backpacker means
learning what to take and what to leave at home, growing as a Christian means trusting God and emptying my pack. It also
means living in community. One of the reasons my fears have declined a bit is
because I’ve learned I am not on a permanent solo backpacking trip where all my
survival gear comes from my own kit, but I am on an expedition and surrounded
by fellow travelers who share their strengths with me even as I help shoulder
some of their fears. Being on the trail together wards off fears.

1 John 4:18 says, “Well-formed love banishes fear.” (MSG)
Knowing we don’t have to do this all by ourselves is way less scary, and much
lighter.

“I run in the path of Your
commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32BU

To learn more about Berry’s newest book, “Running
With God:” http://www.runningwithgodonline.com/

Follow Berry on Twitter at @berrysimpson … Contact
Berry directly: berry@stonefoot.org

Sunday, April 25, 2010, 5:30 AM …In the Bricktown Residence Inn for the Oklahoma City Memorial Marathon; we were suited up, had applied preemptive band-aids, and were psyched to run. Cyndi was doing the half-marathon out of deference to a newly sore knee; i was running the marathon because it had been so long since my last one.

6:30 AM … At the race start with thousands of runners. I wasn’t nervous about
going the distance even though this was my first marathon attempt since 2003,
but I was nervous about taking so long to finish that Cyndi would get tired of
waiting for me. My longest training run was a 19-miler, 4 weeks prior. However,
I woke up that morning with a fever called Comeback
Trail. I was ready to get started. Like it says in Psalms 19:5, “a
champion rejoicing to run his course.”

8:00 AM … It was nothing but head wind and uphill from mile 9 all the way to
the turnaround at Lake Hefner, about mile 14.
It was a huge relief to finally turn my back to the wind and start back toward
town. Unfortunately, downhills and tailwinds never give back as much as uphills
and headwinds take.

11:00 AM … I phoned Cyndi at mile 20 to tell her
where I was and that I wouldn’t finish before the hotel check-out time. She
knew that, already.

I was surprised that
the marathon offered pretzels at every aid station. It was apparently important
since they used 5 or 6 volunteers to do this at every opportunity. I passed on
the pretzels. They didn’t look that appetizing to me. I also passed on the GU
packets. I had been chewing on Gel Blocks, and GU would’ve been too much shock
to my belly.

I drank one PowerAid
mixed with one water at every aid station, and it turned out to be just right.
I never felt dehydrated and never had to make a pit stop.

12:00 AM … I hit the wall at mile 24, but managed to
keep my run/walk pattern for another mile. Then, at mile 25, I was done. It was
all I could do to walk in from there.

I took a personal
inventory. My knees didn’t hurt worse that they did at mile 5, my feet had
blisters but they weren’t getting worse, my hips didn’t hurt at all and that is
usually one of my biggest concerns. So my only reason to quit was mental
fatigue, which was indefensible, and my general lack of energy. But I knew that
the human brain lies to itself claiming to be exhausted when it actually has a
lot left (an evolutionary thing, so there will be a reserve of energy available
when a lion comes over the horizon), so I assumed the tiredness I felt was not an
accurate picture. I just kept going.

About mile 26 I saw
Cyndi patiently waiting for me (she had finished her race hours before). I also
saw the finish line. There aren’t many things that look better than a finish
line; unless it is my smiling wife standing alongside. I wanted to finish the
day running instead of walking so I tried to start back up, only to stumble and
almost fall to the pavement from deep cramps in both calves. That was weird and
unpredictable. But after a few baby steps I managed to get both feet off the
ground into a peg-legged run across the line.

12:38 AM … I finished in a painfully slow 6:08,
definitely my slowest marathon, ever, by at least 40 minutes. But still, it was
a great race. The volunteers and enthusiasm and aid stations and music were
great. Many of the neighborhoods we ran through hosted yard parties and they
hollered and cheered as we ran past. And downtown OKC was beautiful and fun.

1:00 PM … We left for home soon after I exited the finish chute. Since Cyndi
had checked out of the hotel before I finished, I changed clothes in a gas
station men's room on the way to the airport. I left my running socks on,
though. I knew my feet had been massacred and I was afraid they would hurt
worse if I looked at them. So I didn’t. I left my socks on until bedtime.

I had worked too
hard not to strut a little, I so I decided to wear something marathony. The
official race packet T-shirt was plain white cotton (I'll save it for our
marathon quilt), but the finisher shirt was dark green and made of technical
fabrics. Very nice. I wore it home, and it was fun to see other green finisher
shirts scattered around the airport. Marathoners would nod their heads in
approval and wave from 100' away, an instant camaraderie between us. It’s funny
how you can have more in common with someone you've never met than someone you
might work with for years, simply because they have a finisher shirt on,

Monday morning: next-day … I felt surprisingly good.  While walking Lady around the park I realized
that I was no more sore than if I'd hiked Guadalupe Peak
over the weekend, and that was an acceptable level of discomfort. Of course, it
could’ve been the four Advil I’d taken that morning. My toes were a mess, but a
few Band-Aids and a few days off would take care of that.

I’d experienced no
structural problems, by which I mean my knees still worked, my ankles and feet
were fine (I got several significant blisters on my toes, but I think that was
due mostly to the weird effects of aging, and I was certain I could prevent
that in the future). My only limitations were mental toughness (always a risky
thing to count on) and conditioning (something I can work on). Conclusions? I
can and will, do this again.

I really enjoyed
this marathon. It was a risky choice to run so late in the year. I think this
is probably the last race of the season without going to Minnesota, but they scheduled this race to
coincide with the bombing of April 1995. I was amazed how the citizens of OKC
have turned that great tragedy into energy. I lost count how many times a race
volunteer or course marshal said to me as I was passing by, “Thanks for coming;
thanks for helping us remember.” It made me proud to be part of their memorial
observance.

This was my 8^th
marathon finish, and while that’s a lot compared to the general population,
it’s not so many among marathon runners. However, it wasn’t so long ago that I
thought my marathon days were behind me due to a nagging left knee injury that
left me limping most of the time. I was sad about that. Not sad that I was
injured, but sad that I hadn’t run more when I had the chance. Now I hope to
take advantage of this second opportunity.

To be honest, I
don’t believe everyone has to run marathons, or run at all, for that matter. If
you do, it will add value to your life … physical value, fitness value, health
value, mental value, and spiritual value. Finishing a marathon is
transformational. It changes you.

However, if not running marathons, all of us should do
something that adds energy to our lives, something that makes our heart come
alive. Peter Drucker once said, “Nothing good happens by chance; left on its
own, most things unravel.” If we aren’t intentional about feeding our spirit
and watching over our heart, we will unravel. This marathon was another
intentional effort on my part to feed my heart. I wish I had run faster, but comeback trails are
long and slow. But they are satisfying and full of hope.

“I run in the
path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119

I just read a quick book titled: “It
all Changed in an Instant: More Six-Word Memoirs.” I first heard the editors
taking about the book on NPR a few weeks ago, and then I saw it at the small
bookstore in Alpine, so I bought it. The premise behind the book began with an
apocryphal story about Ernest Hemingway who supposedly responded to a bar bet
to write a novel in only six words with this: “For sale: baby shoes, never
worn.” No one knows if the story is true, but those six words certainly tell a
story.

So the editors of Smith Magazine
asked people to tell the true story of their own lives in six words and over
250,000 six-word memoirs have been submitted. The book I read is the third
collection they’ve published.

I read all the six-word memoirs in
the book and I was surprised how revealing they were. Some caught my breath at
the implications. For example, Peter Loux submitted, “Army or jail? I chose
wrong.” Not only do we know he got into some sort of trouble that left him with
an unfortunate choice, but we don’t know which (wrong) choice he made. There is
clearly much more to this story.

Abbe Shapiro wrote, “Expected
forever. Have restraining order instead.” In two phrases his story went from
hope to despair. His life is not what he expected.

Jill Steinmetz wrote, “Will finish
novel after grading papers.” I know too many stories that are just like that: I
will own my own studio after grading papers, or I will record my CD after
grading papers, or I will publish my book after oil and gas, or I will pay
attention to my family after I am successful.

I was intrigued by Melissa Maxwell’s
submission: “Tattoos made my skin more ‘me.’” Having no desire to customize my
own skin I have never understood the need or desire of other people to make
permanent alterations to themselves. I am more likely to remove labels and
paint over logos or make name-brand stuff look incognito and generic than I am
to mark it up to get attention. It never occurred to me that an alteration
could seem more authentic to someone.

A woman named Clare Hobba submitted
this memoir: “Unraveled career, re-knitted as baby blankets.” I thought that
was a good description of a journey from a hopeless situation – broken career –
to one full of hope.

And Tammy Ray Wilson wrote, “Dancing
naked in my empty nest.” I asked Cyndi if she was using Tammy Ray Wilson as a
pseudonym and she denied it, but I’m not so sure.

Some of the submissions were very
clever. The Amazing Kreskin (a presumptive first name, if you ask me) wrote,
“Now, I know what you’re thinking.” And this by Caitlin O’Conner, “I have
finally learned cliffhangers are …”

I will admit, a couple of the
submissions made me stop and reevaluate my own story. Aaron Renier wrote, “Off
in my own little world.” That, to be honest, is my fear of fears. It’s what
wakes me up at night and what often shuts me down before I begin. I don’t
really believe it logically, but in my heart the enemy’s attack comes in the
form of the fear that I am off teaching and writing in my own little trivial
world and that people are just putting up with me because I am occasionally
funny. But then someone like Mark reminds me to “turn around and look at how
full this bus is; people want to go wherever you go.” Thanks, Mark, I need
that.

Another six-word memoir that I hope
to avoid was by Kirstin Pesula-McEarchern: “Author of so many unwritten books.”
I wrote in the margin, “Please, not me.” I want to write and publish them all,
whether or not anyone reads them. I hope my last submission is in process the
day I die.

So, Sunday night I sat across a
table from Cyndi, at Rosa’s, of course, and
read my favorite entries from the book. I also showed her my own attempts at
telling my true story in six words.

I showed her this one: “Wanderer,
student, introspective, lover, dreamer, loyal.” Cyndi said, “That’s just a
string of descriptive words; it isn’t a story.” She was correct, of course,
which caused me to scratch off three of my other attempts which seemed to be
word strings as well.

I said, how about this: “Love a
dancer, now I dance.” She knew I was talking about her influence on my life and
she liked that part, but said, “Thanks, but your story is bigger than that.”

OK, how about this one: “Always
leaning forward into the future.” She thought that one was better, but still
more of a goal than a story. She wanted to hear my favorite. She’s been through
this sort of thing with me before and she knew I was holding back my best idea.
I read: “Miles to go before I sleep.” That was her favorite, as well. “Your
story is, that your story isn’t over, and you have many miles to go yet.” Good
girl; no wonder I love her so much. I have a lot of miles to go, and books, and
essays, and talks, and friends, and adventures to go, before bedtime.

And so I’ll ask, why don’t you give
it a try? Can you tell the true story of your life in six words? It doesn’t
have to be perfect. You can stamp “draft’ across it so you can change it later.
But try it. And send it to me, or post in the comments of my blog. I need to
know you better. I want to read your story.

“I run in the path of Your
commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32

To learn more about Berry’s newest book, “Running
With God:” http://www.runningwithgodonline.com/

Follow Berry on Twitter at @berrysimpson … Contact
Berry directly: berry@stonefoot.org

Sunday night Cyndi and I played with
the First Baptist Church
orchestra, along with the praise singers and big-church choir in the musical
production by Travis Cottrell: Jesus Saves. It was great. The entire evening
was full of energy and worship, and it was fun to be playing my trombone again
after a long hiatus. I took last year off from orchestra because of my added
deacon responsibilities, and then in the fall I stopped playing with the praise
band when I started teaching adult Bible class again. I felt I had to make
those adjustments in my schedule, but I sure missed playing. And even more than
missing the music, I was concerned that if I put my trombone down for too long
I’d never pick it up again; playing ads too much value to my life to let it
slip away.

So we were rehearsing before the
actual performance (always a risky thing for me since I don’t have the chops
for two hours of rehearsing and another 1-1/2 hour of performing) when my
friend Paul sat on the pew beside me for a few minutes to talk and to watch
what we were doing. On one piece I played a tied whole note, eight beats. It
was soft, and I was the only brass instrument playing at that moment, except
for the army of keyboards and guitars and drums. My part was barely audible,
even to me as I played it. Paul said, “When you just have one note to play you
have to trust that it matters.”

He got it exactly right.

When playing in a large ensemble
like that, there is so much going all the time, you have to trust that your own
small parts matter and really make a difference. Of course, there were moments
Sunday night when the trombones were featured and we were sufficiently
bombastic and everyone heard us and it clearly mattered. But most of the time,
very few would notice the difference if we had stopped playing entirely.

So how can I know if what I do
matters? After all, I am not interested in doing things that don’t matter. If
my contributions aren’t obvious, why make them at all? I guess you could argue
that if each of us put down our instruments and played only the exposed solo
parts, it would not sound good at all. The music only works when everyone plays
their part, no matter how subdued or quiet. And eventually people will notice
the gaps and know the sound isn’t right, even if they don’t know the reason.

Like Paul said, “You have to trust
that it matters.” And isn’t that true with all those things we do as teachers
and leaders and parents and spouses. We have to trust that the small un-noticed
things matter. Jesus spoke directly to the importance of doing the small things
right when he said, “He who is faithful in a very little thing is faithful also
in much” (Luke 16:10, NAS).

One of my favorite observations is
how young children want to put their own fingers on a wall switch and turn the
lights on and off, all by themselves. As adults, we never make a big deal of
turning the lights on, never point out, “See, switch goes up and the light goes
on, switch goes down and the light goes off.” We just turn the lights on and
off without fanfare and without even thinking about it. Yet, young kids still
pick up on what we do and they want to imitate the actions. The small things
matter. Our consistencies matter. How we live out our lives, matters.

In his book, The Gospel According to
Starbucks, Leonard Sweet admonished the reader to “grow a soul that is a
beautiful work of art, a soul with such sensitivities that it can pick up
signals of transcendence in the most unlikely of places, a soul with such
strength that it can experience the subtleties of life that separate the good
from the bad, and the good from the great.” The notion of growing a soul makes
sense to me, and I realize it has been my goal for a long time now even if I
didn’t know how to express it so well. I often talk about my goal of aging
gracefully. What I mean when I say that is that I want to grow my soul into a
work of art. I think the biggest part of that is doing the small things right
and trusting that they matter.

My friend Paul would never have
noticed me playing that F for eight counts if he hadn’t been sitting beside me.
It was a small thing; so small that I had to trust that it mattered. Maybe it
is that act of trusting that turns horn players into musicians, teachers in mentors,
parents into mommies and daddies, spouses into lovers. Maybe that act of
trusting is what makes ordinary people become inspiring and contagious, and
turns whole notes into works of art.

“I run in the path of Your
commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32

I’m not sure which are my best
features, but I’m fairly certain they aren’t my feet. I have flat arches, my
toes crisscross, I have little strength or flexibility for downward dog, I
can’t sit with my feet tucked under me, and I can only point my toes in my
imagination. At any time I have at least one toenail turning black from running
or hiking. I have bunions and calluses and, well, you get the picture. More
that you wanted.

So it may come as a surprise that I
signed up to join the “One Day Without Shoes” event, at the request of my
friend Jordan Witte.

The official website says: ‘One Day
Without Shoes is the day we spread awareness about the impact a simple pair of
shoes can have on a child’s life. On April 8th, we ask people to go the day,
part of the day or even just a few minutes, barefoot, to experience a life
without shoes first-hand, and inspire others at the same time.”

I’ve been around people who spend
their entire lives barefoot, and while their feet may be tougher and stronger
than mine, very little of the rest of their life looks better. I am glad that
I’ve lived my life in shoes.

However, after spending last summer
reading the book, “Born to Run,” I
decided to give barefoot running a try. Since, in addition to all my other foot
issues, my feet are soft and tender, I knew I couldn’t really go barefoot. I
had to wear something on my feet.

So I started off by running one mile in my socks, on the grass in a
local park, one day each week. It felt better than I expected. In fact, it felt
so good that on my third attempt I went two miles in my socks. That turned out
to be a big mistake. I limped for days. Apparently a 100% increase in distance
was bad. I was embarrassed because I should have known better; I’m an
incremental sort of guy and I made a goofy beginner mistake.

But I stayed at it. I ran for a couple of months (still, one day per
week) in some cheap water shoes. When I wore those out, I bought a pair of Vibram
Five Fingers. Once I learned how to put them on, they were great. I’ve been
running in them three miles at a time, once a week.

But what is the point, you might ask? Not simply to toughen up the
soles of my feet (who needs tough soles), but to make my feet stronger, to
improve my stride and balance and to minimize injury. It was an intentional
attempt on my part to become a better runner. I’ve learned I can’t change very
much in my life, or change the world around me, by drifting through
life. Drifting worked for Forrest Gump, but it doesn’t work for real people in
real life. You have to be intentional.

When Jordan first invited me to join her
“One Day Without Shoes” event, I asked if my Vibrams counted. She said, no.

So I psyched myself to run today
completely barefoot, skin on the ground, for three miles. And I did it. I ran
on sidewalks and asphalt and on grass. The sidewalk was the easiest.

I’ll be honest; it was less than
pleasant. I had to stop often and pick pebbles out of my feet and remove
stickers. I had to keep a close eye out for acorns. When I got back to the gym
I had to put two Band-Aids on each foot to cover the broken blisters.

Being fifty-three years old might be
too late to start a barefoot lifestyle. My feet have been protected in shoes
for a long time. I doubt I will try true barefoot running again; at least, not
for another year.

But here’s the deal. For me, going
barefoot is a training technique. It’s an indulgence. It’s a choice. And I’ve
lived my entire life in a world with lots of choices. The point of the One Day
Without Shoes campaign is not to draw attention to people like me who make
(what you may consider to be) goofy choices. It is to focus attention on people
who really don’t have choices. For three miles, today, I felt their pain.

“I run in the path of Your
commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32

To learn more about Berry’s newest book, “Running
With God:” http://www.runningwithgodonline.com/

Follow Berry on Twitter at @berrysimpson … Contact
Berry directly: berry@stonefoot.org