Life....

This is your life.
Do what you love and do it often.
If you don't like something, change it.
If you don't like your job, quit.
If you don't have enough time, stop watching tv.
If you are looking for the love of your life, stop;
they will be waiting for you when you start doing things you love.
Stop over analyzing, all emotions are beautiful.
When you eat, appreciate every last bite.
Life is simple.
Open your mind, arms and heart to new things and people.
We are united in our differences.
Ask the next person you see what their passion is.
And share your inspiring dream with them.
Travel often;
Getting lost will help you find yourself.
Some opportunities only come once, seize them.
Life is about the people you meet and the things you create with them.
So go out and start creating.
Life is short.
Live your dream and wear your passion.

Flyin' Kites: In Memory of Pepere

When I think of kites,I think of warm, breezy summer vacation days in Whittier's Palm Park. I think of a man whose solitary life drew him to the art of kite-flying.
I think of my grandfather, Pepere.

Pepere, (which mean's grandpa in French - or so we were told by him) was my dad's dad. Pepere made colorful kites and flew them just across the street from the house where my dad grew up in Southern California. He made simple but interesting kites. Watching him fly from a young age was always fun but being an active child, I never stuck around long enough to fully enjoy it. Yet Pepere never did it with fan and flare. He did it for himself. He did it quietly. He did it for his creative, demonstrative side to his solitary soul.

Pepere had quite a collection going by the time he was 90 years old. I regret not requesting them when he passed away. As time went by and he flew less and less while he was alive, I thoroughly enjoyed the times he did get out to watch him perfect his hobby.

Legend has it that one summer on His visit to Nevada, we took Pepere and some of his kites to Mills Park to fly. My dad warned him that Nevada winds can be brutal, but Pepere didn't listen. Stubborn man that he was, he rarely listened. He was a man set in his ways. Although rumor has it he liked listening to my mom over a glass of cream cherry. Who doesn't? You don't even need cream cherry to enjoy listening to her.

Pepere had his kite flying so high that day and before long, those Nevada winds turned for the worst. He had to cut the line or be overpowered with his arm out of socket. The kite dove straight down into a tree trunk and embarrassingly enough, it stayed in that tree for weeks.

His tenacity, his stubborn nature must have started young. He had reason to be that self willed. Somewhere around 10 years old, he had to grow up and help parent his siblings. His father was a severe alcoholic and Pepere became sole provider for the family. Hard working, through the depression, he was a man with opinions and he raised three boys each with their own expressions and ways.

Recently I got to thinking about Pepere and his kites primarily because of some good Southern California memories and curiosity as to what Pepere enjoyed most in flying those instruments. Maybe the kites helped him soar above the daily grind and get him far beyond the reality of what his life had been for 90 years. Not that it was bad. By no means, for Pepere did well. He purchased a home for his bride and three boys in Whittier, which at the time was filled with orange groves. Not today! And for some 80 years he had been a hard worker, diligently providing and plodding along for his family, taking pristine care of his home. Feisty, testy, but true and loyal to what needed to get done.

Kites are tethered aircrafts and maybe that was the joy Pepere found. He could move past his limitations and life as it had been for those brief moments, knowing he'd come back to the security of the life he labored so hard to create. I know Pepere had pain and I'm sure there were a lot of things he never fully worked through. There were things about Pepere that I really loved. His tenacious talks with me about why I wanted to be a lawyer anyways. And then I thought about the blessing and inheritance he left for his sons. He flew kites, but he was also anchored. A tethered life is a blessed life to me.

Only way is up

Out of convenience, most of my runs in training have been around our neighborhood. Fortunately for the views, it's amazing on these runs. But unfortunately, for the training I prefer, we're surrounded by hills. It's actually really good for training, but I'm just not a big fan of the hills. The only way to get home is to take on some form of these monsters. I don't mind an occasional booty but kicker, but I'm much more prone to find flat, long stretches on my own.

Yesterday's run was convenient and I set out from home to take on a 3 mile run. Part of it included one of these hills and as I took it on, my pace came down to pretty much a slow walk. I contemplated turning around and going back down the hill just so I could enjoy the feeling of a light, easy, quick stretch of run to what I was doing. But the reality was I still had to get up that hill if I wanted to get home.

And that gets me to this point. Aren't there times in life we just have to go through things and there's no way around it? But when you get through it, or to the top of the hill, so to speak, you're home. As convenient as it may feel to just slip back into things that are easy, you're never going to get where you were intended to be unless you take on the booty but kickers.

And this brings me to another point for myself as a Christ-follower. Sometimes in the day to day events of life, it's super easy to forget the bigger picture. It's easy to forget His love and His purpose in life. When things get dark and life lacks meaning, you feel lost until you look up and put one foot in front of the other and take on the monsters in your mind and heart to get to the top where home is, where Christ is. That's a slow journey for me but I never regret it. Sometimes it's a word I read that reminds me and stirs my soul to action, giving me courage to take on the hill. Sometimes it's the encouragement of a friend whose on this journey too. And together we see the hill but we take it on.

In the end, I'm grateful for booty but kickers that keep me out of convenience and challenge me physically to get better while running. I'm also grateful for the struggles in my spiritual life as I look to Christ to perfect what He started in my heart years ago when I was just a crazy high school student. To see those victories in life and in running, the only way is up.