Rebekah Speaks

  "Be brave. Be brave. Be brave." With eyes closed tight, my granddaughter, a bundle of joy and energy, whispered those words to muster up needed courage. Perched atop an inclined rounded log with fierce winds blowing, she then started her journey. She made it, gleefully jumping off at the end. She used all the resources available (her hand in mine) and her strong determination. There's gotta be a lesson in that for all of us. Facing a new task at work? Needing to repair a relationship? Taking on a huge fitness challenge. Be brave. Wisely use resources. Go for it!

  The receipt reported a total of 18.29. Addy, my granddaughter asked me to help extend her sewing skills, wanting to make flowy pants for our vaca next week. We probably spent more on the pattern, material, and elastic compared to what it would cost to buy the simple pants off the rack. That said, I shall not complain. Ever. It was money wisely invested in making both pants and memories. Don't ever overlook opportunities to grow meaningful, deep relationships.

“How many songs are you guys going to play at the end of the year concert?”, I inquired of Addyson, my   ten-year old granddaughter. We were chatting cheerfully as I steered the Grandma Taxi to deliver the child to her classical school that places great value on music education and the arts. The first semester of the year introduced the students to the recorder, performing the practiced songs at the Christmas concert. Now, after five months of playing the violin, she answered my question: “We will play four songs.” Having previously experienced the lovely squeaks and squawks of novice string musicians, I posed yet another question. “Do ya’ll sound good?” The answer? “A whole lot better than before!” She’s on to something. Progress requires equal doses of time and effort. Excellence doesn’t happen in a void. In fact, the standard 10,000 hour rule first attributed to Anders Ericsson and propagated by many, argues that expert status is only achieved after thousands of hour...

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...