Rebekah Speaks

As I type these thoughts, I am waiting for something to happen at EMS Station 14. It is quiet, both my partners intermittently scrolling their phones or catching a quick cat nap going into their 24-hour shifts. The donuts kindly donated by some unknown party sit ignored on the large dining table. There is no hustle and bustle. Rater, we quietly await. Waiting can be excruciating. A friend posted just this morning the difficulty of waiting for critical medical test results. An online acquaintance wrote of Biblical examples of profitable waiting, citing Joseph and King David as exemplars. My own thinking turned to Jairus’ daughter, spoken of in the synoptic Gospels, who had taken ill and died before Jesus arrived. Parental hope must have plummeted to an all-time low when they thought—erroneously—that their waiting for the Healer to arrive would yield only sorrow. Rather, their wait turned joyous when the girl was given back life. Waiting is hard, mostly because we (read that, I) tend to ...

Alone in the forest and breathing with ferocity, I was probably sucking down more than my fair share of oxygen offered up by the photosynthesizing vegetation. Struggling up the mountain, my watch reported that the trail was rising at a 30% incline. That explained my heave-ho respiratory effort. My foray into the woods did not present an every-second brutal effort, but with many steep sections ranging from 15-20% grade in the first nine miles, it required considerable effort. But why did I get up at O’dark 30 and head to the mountains by myself in the first place? I submit to you that had I not known my “why” in tackling what was hard, I would likely have stayed in bed. There are a lot of hard things: relationships, career decisions, academics, athletic endeavors, sickness and injury, to name a few. In my situation, my “hard” is pushing myself physically and mentally. I spend hours swimming laps, push, pull, and lift iron in the weight room, and hike long miles during this time of recov...

My husband and I attended the USAG Virginia State gymnastics championships this past weekend. Our granddaughter, a spunky and spry 10-year old was competing and had a great day, coming away with a podium finish in the all-around as well as individual medals in each of the four events. She was quite happy, and we continue to be enormously grateful for her God-given abilities. Addy has been scoring quite well this season, after losing the entire 2024 season due to a badly broken arm and subsequent surgery. She has come back strong, showing resilience and conquering any remnants of fear and trepidation. That said, her golden ring of scores—a 38.00—remains to be earned. Sunday she came ever so close: 37.850 and that got me thinking. That barely noticeable body position corrections on beam cost her 0.1 for each one. Her beautiful and graceful floor routine was ever so slightly off from the music. Another tenth or two deduction. Perhaps the judges saw her feet slightly misaligned: minu...

  There it was. A boulder among boulders tucked into the steep ridge line.  Directly trail-side, it wooed the passerby to sink into its bowl-shaped curvature and lean against the naturally molded backrest. Once seated, the struggle of tackling the terrain was carried away on the wings of the gentle breeze. With trekking poles set to the side, the world became quiet. Not devoid of sound, given the rustle of scurrying squirrels through leaves and cacophony of birdsong. But the solitude I felt was calming. Across the valley, verdant mountains covered in green rose against the blue sky, wispy clouds playing on currents of air. I doubted the presence of another human within miles and miles. I took it all in before continuing my journey, refreshed, renewed, and restored. The world is a noisy place—literally and figuratively. Sounds of traffic and sirens. Music blaring through speakers. Social media touting messages often intended to raise the ire of the reader. But life is noisy in ...

It was a beautiful wedding in so many ways. The bride was a former Division 1 athlete whom I had the privilege of mentoring for several years. The groom, a commercial pilot, I had never met. Still, I was thrilled to be invited to this matrimonial celebration. My husband and I were seated for dinner at the table with the groom’s grandma, two sisters and their husbands, and his younger brother. We wondered if we would have anything to talk about. Our wondering came to an abrupt halt when we realized that they all lived in my hometown, had attended the same high school as me, and were members of the home church of my youth in Perkasie, PA. Though it had been 48 years since I left that area, we knew some of the same people, now the elder members of the congregation. But the most startling find was that they knew—and loved—my dear mother! “She was so kind and caring every time I visited her. She even remembered that I had a granddaughter at Liberty University,” shared Grandma. “She was such...

Yesterday I had the distinct privilege of speaking to a roomful of enthusiastic high school students. Prior to my first word, they did what high school kids naturally do in a cool setting: play ping pong, chat, and finish off their Starbucks drinks. But once called to attention, they quickly took their seats and settled in. I had roughly 30 minutes to story tell, urging them to courageously embrace doing hard things. I did not see any student who failed to listen intently, some leaning forward in their seats as if to capture each word more effectively. And when I was finished and the principal asked some questions of me, she opened the floor to the students. Several quickly raised a hand to offer their perspective on the topic before the entire group gathered around to interact with me up close and personal. This group could have easily become the poster children of respectful behavior. I contrast that experience with another encounter, this time all high school senio...