Moments Worth Mentioning

So, funny story.

I am now living with three girls.  One of which, I share a bathroom with.  All is great.  Expect, we have a problem.  We have a mysterious green lufa in our presence.

Shannon and I have been cohabiting our bathroom for close to a month.  Since that time, there have been two lufas AKA poofs hanging in our shower.  One blue, one green.  Shannon had bought the blue one.  She assumed the green one was mine.  I had not purchased either one, and assumed that one belonged to her and the other to her man friend, Kevin.  On with life we go.

Well, my roommates and I were standing in our kitchen last night catching up when Shannon casually mentions and apologizes that her man friend might have accidentally used my (green) poof.  She started laughing as she recounts the story of Kevin telling her that he thought he had used hers, and the icky facial expression that he had once she told him that he was incorrect about the poof ownership.  Well, imagine my goofy look when I tell her that the green one was not mine.  I explain that I had actually just purchased a purple lufa.   I’m pretty sure there were tears involved as all four of us laughed and tried to figure out where the poof came from and how disturbing it was that Kevin used a strangers cleaning apparatus.

Where did this mysterious lufa come from??

Honestly, the whole thing is a kind of creepy and a little weird.  The exact owner and origin of said lufa is still up in the air.  All I know is that when I got up this morning and walked into the bathroom, I found this:

Welcome to the joys of roommate-hood.  And if you happen to find yourself missing a poof, we know where it is.  Feel free to come retrieve it from out of the trash can.  Be ready to explain yourself.

I am so excited to share with you some amazing news.  I have been invited to travel to Brazil for a short-term mission trip!

Let me back up a little bit.  As many of you know, the last few years have been an extraordinary adventure and eye-opening time in my life.  I have crisscrossed my way across the country in an attempt to find myself, start over and to run away from all that had gone wrong.  I was taking my life into my own hands in the most selfish way possible.  The path that I was determined to follow and that I thought I was creating was nothing short of Gods perfect work.  As much as I hated to admit it at the time, the chain of events that brought me back to Atlanta were undeniably God inspired.  I now find myself in a phase of life full of contentment, amazing blessings and opportunities.  I am living proof that a life can be transformed if you turn it all over to Him.  Thank you from the bottom of my heart to all of you who have played apart in this amazing journey.

I have been poured into by so many over the last year through mentors, small groups and church leaders.  I have been welcomed into Buckhead Church with open arms and I am in awe of the impact all of you have had on a girl who was once so certain that a relationship with our Lord and Savior had no place in her life.  God has truly shown me what it is to love others through leadership, forgiveness and compassion.  It is an honor to have been given the opportunity to pass that love onto others.  It is a blessing and an incredible act of faith that I have been chosen to be a part of this trip.

The team that I will be traveling with will be in Brazil from June 30 – July 7, 2010.  We will be partnering with a church affiliated with North Point Ministries in Londrina, Brazil to plan, develop and orchestrate a retreat for approximately eighty church volunteers.  Anyone who has led and poured into others understands what it is to give all that you have.  It will be a privilege to be able to let those leaders take a few days off and to give them the opportunity to recharge their batteries and renew their hearts.

The job at hand is huge.  It will take the seven of us going on the trip as well as hundreds of prayers to make this work.  I am asking for you to be a part of this trip. At minimum, I am asking for your commitment to pray for me and my GlobalX team.  I will be starting a Brazil blog very soon, and I will be sure to mention specific prayer requests.  Until then, I ask for you to pray for the safety of the team, unity of the group, great fellowship with the Brazilian people and for God to open the hearts of the local community so that we may reach them through our acts of service.

The second way you can be a part of my team is to help me financially.  I have pledged to raise $3000 to cover the cost of the my travel and living expenses while in Brazil.  It would be an honor if you would consider supporting me in this way and for you to be apart of the reason that I am able to show God’s love to the people of Brazil.

I look forward to doing God’s work in Brazil and letting you know all about how God has worked through this team when I return in July.  Thank you again to all of you who have been on this path that has led me to this point.  May God bless you richly!

To Give

Visit www.GOglobalX.org

Click on “Give” on the top right side of the page.

Fill in your contact information.

Under globalX Trip Information: Select “Brazil” and “Brazil Volunteer Trip”

Type Michelle Winham as the individual you wish to support.

A confirmation email will be sent to you and will serve as your receipt to use for tax purposes.

I come to you from my new house, in my new amazing sun room, on my brand new (we are talking 20 minutes old) internet.  Oh, the amount of time I have spent dreaming of this very moment!!

Lets back up a little bit.  I last left you with a summary of a half marathon that I had just completed.  That post was written and published in a Starbucks with the help of some free wi-fi.   Ever since that weekend, my life has been in complete chaos as I moved to a new place.  I have been without internet access ever since.  (We are talking almost a month here people!)   I seriously have had withdrawal pains!!  Well, after way to many phone calls to our local cable company, two visits by a technician, a hired electrician,  and four hours of installation, I am happy to report I am back on the world-wide web!  Ah… Deep breath.

There is much to talk about.  But for now, let me give you a run down of what my life has looked like lately.

• I moved.  I am now 1.6 miles from work, and share an amazing house with 3 amazing friends.
• I have painted, unpacked boxes and decorated my new home.  All the while….
• Whining for 3 days after my race.  Never have I ever hurt so much in my life.
• I spent Easter with family and friends.
• I crossed the one year mark at my job.
• I reintroduced myself to the treadmill after swearing to never look at one again.
• I have been preparing for my mission trip to Brazil.  I leave in June.
• I hung an overhead pot rack…. by myself.

Life is good. Busy. Full. Amazing.  And abundantly blessed.

This past Sunday was a day that I will always remember.  I ran 13.1 miles, in the rain, without being chased.  The one word that comes to mind: Insane.

Since November I have been training for this half marathon.  It all started with a discussion over dinner one night when one of my friends mentioned that she wanted to run this race.  I remember telling her she was crazy.  I explained that although I had run Cross Country in high school, I had no intention to ever race again.  And then…. during a week moment… just like that, in my next sentence I agreed to do it with her.  Before dinner was over that night, three of us had agreed to train for the ING Half Marathon.  As the days and weeks went by, some of our guy friends heard about our challenge and decided it would be a good idea to have a little competition.  Girls vs Guys.  There were talks of bet stipulations, spread sheets comparing mens and women’s running times and endless banter.  It was an exhausting few months of early morning runs and aching muscles all while trying to prove to the boys that they were going to see nothing but the backs of our shirts during the race.

About two months ago, as the race slowly crept up on us, another one of our friends was involved in a terrible accident. The injuries were extensive, and in all honesty, should have been fatal.  As Richard continued to improve and impress the doctors with his determination, this race took on a different meaning.  I couldn’t possibly complain about the pain and soreness involved with running a few miles while my friend gave everything he had to survive.  I sent out an email to my runners, and within a matter of minutes, all bets were off.  Instead of competing with each other, we were now coming together in honor of the miracle that was Richard.  I loved the new attitude that it brought out in each of us!

After a homemade meal Saturday night to carb load on some spaghetti, the six of us were up and on a Marta train by 5:30am.  The day was finally here.  I was giddy with excitement, and the energy on the ride down to Centennial Park was amazing.  It was a crazy site to see so many people all with the same destination.  We all were runners, we all had trained for months for this day.  I was in awe of the crowd.

The race itself was nothing short of life changing.  The gun went off promptly at 7am before the sun had even come up.  18,000 of us charged down the dark streets of Atlanta.  Once the adrenalin wore off after about mile three, there was nothing left but me, the pavement and the sites and sounds of downtown Atlanta.  There was lots of praying over the next two hours as I ran out of Centennial Park and made my way through Five Points, Midtown, Little Five Points, Virginia Highlands, Druid Hills, Piedmont Park and Georgia Tech.  My legs screamed to stop the insanity.  Despite the drizzly rain, the crowd was there to cheer us on with signs, noise makers and costumes.  It was truly an experience that cannot be explained in words.    And don’t get me started about the moment that I actually crossed that finish line!  Overwhelming!

I have to be honest and tell you that I had not trained nearly enough for that race.  I had only reached about 8 miles during my training, and 95% of that had been done on a treadmill.  Any runner will tell you that that was not nearly adequate.  What occurred during those 2 1/2 hours can only be described as a God Thing.  I can’t explain to you how I was able to run for 13 miles.  I can’t explain why I never felt winded.  I can’t explain how I never cramped up or felt the nagging pains that I had been dealing with during my training.  I can’t explain how I was able to move the day before and wake up on the day of my race without one sore muscle.  I am in total awe of the strength that I found within myself.  I would be doing a disservice to not acknowledge God’s ability to get me to that finish line.

The race was not without its consequences.  Sunday night my legs throbbed in pain, I was choking down Advil every four hours like clockwork and was moving at a snails pace.  But, I can honestly say, pain has never felt so good.  I’m so proud of myself, but even more impressed with the six of us.  All of us rose to the occasion to train and prepare for a goal that seemed so far out of reach.  And in the end, as all bets were set aside, we can walk away…. eh, limp away, knowing we honored our friend in a way like no other.

18,000 people.  26,000 steps.  13.1 miles.  6 friends.  4 months of training.  2 hours 26 minutes of running.  1 day that I will never forget!

My amazing running partners after we crossed the finish line.

I’ve mentioned over and over again about how much I am in love with my city.  As the end of my one year lease at my Atlanta apartment quickly approaches, I am more in awe of how amazing city life is then ever before.

This past Sunday, Atlanta finally got some nice weather.  It was that first bit of 65-70 degree weather that makes everyone want to go outside.  People open windows, smile at their neighbors, take their dogs for walks and steal longer lunch breaks.  Spring time in Georgia is my absolute favorite season.  Wanting to enjoy the warm sunshine, a few friends and I decided to take the short drive to Piedmont Park Sunday afternoon.  We were joined by hundreds of fellow Atlantans’ as we ate our picnic lunch, threw a Frisbee and people watched.  Truly a marvelous few hours soaking up the much-anticipated spring sunshine.  

After the park, we all decided some ice cream was in order.  We took a little drive over to the Highlands and found ourselves waiting in line at a oh-s0-quaint ice cream parlor.  The place takes cash only and serves their Italian Gelato in cute little bowls.  The four of us sat out in front of the store and enjoyed our yummy snack as we watched the city go by.  The strollers, the dogs, the couples holding hands…. it was all there.  All making up the perfect backdrop to a perfect day.

Our next stop was the Wouldn’t-Miss-It-For-Anything 6 o’clock service at Buckhead Church where I was once again blown away by the amazing, truthful, perfectly timed message.   My friends and I fill up a whole row as we worship, sing and pray together.  That never gets old.  That is the single reason why I truly love this city and why life is so good.  It’s that church.  It’s those people.

After church, nothing really says “the weekend is winding down” like a booth full of friends at a pizza restaurant.  We laugh and chat over slices of pepperoni pizza, and all can’t quite believe that another weekend is over.

That is what I love about Sundays.  All of that.  I love that my “normals” never get old.  I love that it’s a guarantee that we will run out of saved seats at church.  I love that this city loves spring time as much as I do.   I love that in seven days, I get to do it all over again.

I will forever be amazed by God’s perfect timing.  The last week and a half have left me mentally and physically exhausted.  I am juggling a small group bible study, a leadership training class, a mentor group, training for a half marathon, a singles Fusion group, attending mission trip meetings and trying to find a new place to live.  Most groups have required reading and homework.  All the while, I continue to maintain a busy social calendar.  To say that I have a way too many plates spinning is an under statement.

My mentor group (a different group then I went out-of-town with a few weeks ago… I told you I was busy) had plans to spend the weekend together up in a lake cabin about an hour outside of the city.  We were going to leave at noon on Friday and not get back until Sunday afternoon. I knew the weekend would be amazing.  But, selfishly, the thought of spending 48ish hours away from all of my commitments wasn’t my first choice for a weekend.  I was grieving the loss of those precious hours.

As I sit here on this Monday afternoon, after spending that time getting to know some amazing women and hearing some amazing Godly wisdom, I am blown away about how much I could have potentially missed had I not come gone up there.  Shame on me for wanting to be so selfish with “my” time.

We did lots of talking this weekend about the paths that we are on (or want to be on).  Our dreams, our hopes and our images of the future were all hot topics over these last few days.  We discussed the things in our lives that distract us from those goals.  We had conversations on how being busy didn’t necessarily add up to being productive.  It was basically a hard elbow shove and a “I told you so” from God.  Perfect.

And if that wasn’t enough to get my attention, that seems to be a common theme with several of my groups here lately.  My leadership class is teaching me to release my grip from the other gods in my world (money, jobs, personal appearance, friends etc) and to open my hands (and free my schedule) so that God will fill my life with the things he wants to give me.  The current series at church is entitled “White Flag” and is centered around the thought of running away from what God has for us.

OK, God.  I get it.

My problem lies in the fact that I find enjoyment in every one of my current obligations.  I love the responsibility and thrive within a full, busy schedule.  Most of my groups are Christian based, and therefore good for me, right?  But let’s be honest…. I haven’t blogged in several weeks.  Blogging is my current passion and allows me to de-stress.  If I can’t find thirty minutes to sit down and type, I think there is a problem.

In response to my recent request to pray for all of my spinning plates I was given this advice;  Praying for God to help you prioritize your plates…and allowing you to drop the ones that aren’t as important! Kinda like a Greek wedding right?

Thankfully, a few of these groups are winding down, the housing situation has been resolved and the half marathon is only a few more weeks away.  I am nowhere near Greek, but I will be happy to drop those plates and hopefully a few more very soon!

The lovely ladies I spent my weekend with... Well worth the extra plate!

Snow and I have this thing….  I know all of us get a little giddy when it comes to the frozen participation, but I assure you my thing is different.

Today, as the snow began to fall, the normal anxious and nervous chatter of my fellow southerners amused me as usual.  After living for two years up in Michigan, it takes a whole lot more than a few snow flakes for me fear bodily harm as so many do around me.  Instead, I went and found an empty patient room, closed the door, and spent a quiet moment staring out into the city.  The snow was falling really hard.  I don’t ever remember a time down here that it has snowed that heavily for that long.  Truly an unusual occurrence, and one that took me immediately back to my days up north.

It is so easy for me to dismiss my time in Michigan by complaining of how miserably cold and lonely I was.  I can easily and vividly remember the frigid moments spent scrapping snow off  my car and spending six months of the year in coats and gloves.  But, somewhere in between the horrendous driving conditions and the multiple layers of clothing, that state became my safe haven.  I found myself, tested my limits, and discovered what I was capable of.  For that, I will be forever grateful for that time up there.  And, the snow was a huge part of that.   I had to do so many things by myself for the first time in my life.   If I could do those new things up there in four feet of snow, then I surly can do them down here in the warm deep south.  It’s all about perspective.

The snow also reminds me of my dogs.  I haven’t mentioned them in a long time….  But, (sigh) the snow definitely reminds me their snow boots, the days when the snow was higher than they were, the icicles that Sadie loved to carry in her mouth, being able to let them off their leashes, knowing that they couldn’t run in the deep snow….  Those brave dogs did the Michigan winter with me.  Wow… what I would do to see them again.

*****

I laughed out loud as I had to dust off my car this afternoon… This time using a flip-flop that I had in my car instead of the professional ice scraper that I used to not leave home without.  I also took the long way home today.  I found the curvy and hilly streets that nobody wanted to tackle and I enjoyed the undisturbed winter wonderland.  It was pure joy to experience the snow again, to remember, and to realize how much has changed since my days up in Michigan.  I needed that.  I needed the reminder.  I needed today’s snow.

December 2007: Just another normal day in Michigan...

February 2010: A very UNusual day in Georgia.

And just to complete the trip down memory lane... Here is Sadie, with her Icicle. Taken during my first winter in Michigan.

Thats the word that comes to mind as I think back to this past weekend.

After work on Friday, we loaded up the cars and made the 2+ hour drive to the North Georgia mountains.  What we would find waiting for us was an amazing lake cabin complete with roaring fire places, bunk beds, and screened in porches.  There were eight of us up there this weekend.  These are the eight girls that make up my small group, and the girls whom I have grown to absolutely adore.  We shared stories, s’mores, home-made meals, fuzzy blankets and board games.  It was a picture perfect girls weekend complete with a day of falling snow.

The circumstances of it all can only described as God’s perfect planing.  The ability to pull off such a huge commitment from eight girls that have ridiculously busy schedules with less than a weeks notice…. the way this cabin fell into our laps…. the way eight strangers could become instant friends… the way we could share laughter and tears without any fear of judgment or criticism.  It was magic.  Only God could pull off such a weekend.

A girls weekend is not complete without a puppy to love on.

The Assignment: Find something at the local flea market that is significant to you. Not as easy as it sounded.

Eight girls + Eight kittens = lots of smiles

Endless girl talk, laughter and giggles.

The amazing group.... Picture Perfect.

That was the question that was asked of me at 9am yesterday morning as I was piling fruit and a bagel on my plate while trying to balance all of that with a glass of OJ, a notebook and some plastic silverware.  The question was overly simply, yet very complicated all at the same time.  It caught me off guard and although I had done a few hours of pre-reading, filled out a lengthy application and been interviewed all in preparation for the meeting, I had never been specifically asked what my ultimate reason was for signing up.

The next 5 hours were spent discussing Foundational Truths and Relationship Principals.  Pretty deep stuff for a Saturday morning.  I walked into that room expecting to be taught how to lead.  Instead, I was given an eye-opening lesson on how the health of your own heart and soul greatly impacts those that you are trying to lead.  I was mesmerized by the simple truths being presented.  I love when my own expectations get blown out of the water and replaced with something far greater!

As my breakfast balancing act turned into a lunch box full of Chick-fil-A goodness, I went back to the individual that had asked me that simple question.  And, with a renewed determination, this is what I told him.

Everyone has a tendency to see their divorce as a huge black dot on an otherwise perfect white slate.  And while I am not dismissing the hurt and life-long scars, I don’t want to see my history as a black dot.  Instead, I want to use the past for a greater good.  I want to use my experience to help others get through the pain.  I want them to see how our God is bigger then any hurt and that is currently in their life, and that this is their opportunity to hand over the control, hand over the anger, hand over the agony.  I want to lead a divorce recovery class not to continuously rehash my past, but instead, to help others have a bright, better-then-they-could-ever-imagine-God-seeking-forgiveness-accepting future.

“Anyone who says sunshine brings happiness has never danced in the rain.”