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...

As I was in the middle of a weight training session I listened to a podcast named Wild Ideas Worth Living.  As Erik Weihenmayer was interviewed, it was impossible to be amazed at his feats: climbing Mt. Everest, reaching the peaks of the tallest mountain on each continent, paddling through the Grand Canyon, ice climbing—and so much more. But here’s the thing. Erik is blind. Not visually impaired but blind. Like he sees nothing. Nada. Just blackness. Whoa! How in the world does he do this? He has developed echolocation strategies to help him leap across deep crevasses. His fingers and feet help him identify holds as he ascends rock faces. And he listens intently—and follows—the instructions and cues given by his companions. In fact, he said “Yeah, one of the weird, hidden gifts of blindness is that you have to trust people to get things done. I will tell you straight up, blind people, as far as I know, do not climb mountains, do not climb Everest or kayak the Grand C...

Years ago when I was working as a perfusionist, I heard the operating room manager belt over the intercom, “I want patients and I want them NOW!” Those of us who heard her cries for quick and efficient patient transport to the OR stopped dead in our tracks. We had never heard this women exhibit such animated frustration before. But then, after a moment of astonishment, we all broke out in raucous laughter at the obvious but unintentional play on words. She was certainly not exhibiting much patience while waiting for patients. Patience is hard. Who likes to waste a lot of time waiting around for something to happen? Absolutely no one. But is the time spent waiting actually a waste? Even though it may feel that way, I propose there may be value in the wait. I wrote about developing more resilience in Lesson 5 of this series. There, I shared about my mysterious injury to my right leg that came out of nowhere on Jan 12, 2025. Well, here I am, two weeks out from my steroid injection in my k...

My 10-year old granddaughter is a competitive gymnast. After missing last year’s entire season due to a fracture of her right radius and ulna that required 2 plates and 6 screws to fix, she has been making up for lost time. She has had some stellar performances, earning her podium recognition on every event as well as all-around in every meet this season. But that changed this past Sunday. Her four routines were solid, scoring between 9.175 and 9.50. Those were not her best performances but they were certainly not poor scores. Admittedly, Addy was not perfect but avoided any major breaks.  Her execution was pretty, making watching her a pleasure. By the time the awards came around, we were pretty sure that the clinking of medals around her neck was sure to follow. And clink she did, ending up with three shiny medals: beam, bars, and all-around. But for the first time all season, she failed to find a place on the podium in the other two events. Hum. How would she ta...

Resiliency is not for the weak of heart. I should know because I've had lots of practice trying to get it right. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t. But I am now in a situation that requires that I figure it out sooner rather than later. A lovely run January 12th was the start of it. In the aftermath of that jaunt along country roads, the back of my knee started hurting. I wasn’t too worried, giving it a rest and increasing my time in the pool and in the weight room. But it never seemed to get better despite running (or trying to) every couple of days. The pain never got better. By the end of January, it was hard to be positive, desperately missing the mountain trails and friends who joined me there. February ushered in more of the same. By the time my sweeping responsibilities for a 50K trail race rolled around (course demarking for those who might be picturing a broom in hand), I took the “come hell or high water” approach. The 33-degree torrential downpour certainl...

Lesson to Self #4: Hardworking   For the last three weeks, I have written lessons to myself about the importance of intentional character skill development including thinking well, becoming disciplined, and using creativity to find effective solutions. (You can find these in prior posts.) Since I was recently a witness to an exemplar of these three skills, I want us to be reminded of the importance of being hardworking, which is contingent on a hefty foundation of solid thinking, discipline, and creativity.   Allow me to introduce Lang Wedemeyer . Lang is the current head coach of Liberty University’s NCAA Division 1 women’s soccer program, ranked nationally this past season at #24. Prior to that, he spent 17 years at the helm of South Dakota State following his own 7-year tenure playing professional soccer and standout collegiate play with the Virginia Tech and Old Dominion Universities. Since he has been there, done that, you might think that he can now sit back and rest on ...

 Lesson #3 to Self: Be creative The story goes like this. A young woman is cooking with her mother and sees her cut off the ends of the ham before placing it in the oven. She inquires why. “Well, my mother told me to do it this way because it’s better. Why don’t you ask her for the specific reason in doing so? So she does. “Grandma, why do you cut off the ends of the ham?” She gets the same response. “My mother always did it this way. I’ve done it as well but I don’t really know why. Why don’t you ask your Great Grandma?” Once again she poses the question to her Great Grandma. Anticipating a compelling rationale in cutting off the ends, Great Grandma simply stated, “My roasting pan was always too small. I had to cut off the ends to make the ham fit in the pan.” Ah, so there we have it. A simple solution to a specific problem turned into the non-negotiable standard for future endeavors. “We’ve always done it this way” is a dangerous sentiment that squelches objective analysis and cr...

1975   Lesson 2 - Be Positive. Think constructively. Last week I proposed that better people make better anythings. I acknowledged my need to work on being more disciplined. I’ve not been perfect but have managed to be intentional about growing in this category. This week, I am committing to being more positive, which will demand good and useful thinking if progress is to be made. But if I can be transparent, the struggle is real. I was a cheerleader back in the day. Ra, Ra! (Please don’t laugh.) We were expected to be wildly enthusiastic on the sidelines, even if the score was upside down. That required a healthy dose of faking it because, quite frankly, not every contest played by the Pennridge Rams ended up as a W in the stats book. Likewise, as a multi-sport athlete in both high school and college, successful team play also required an element of positivity. Not only for personal stability but being positive (or not) tipped the scale on how the team functioned as...

  Lesson 1: Discipline Better people make better anythings. Specifically, better people make better coaches. Better people make better spouses. Better people make better teachers and administrators (like Steve Whitaker, Ph.D. ). Better people make better bus drivers. Better people make better sons, better daughters. Better people make better photographers (like Collin Strachan ). Better people make better electricians. Better people make better students. Better people make better athletes. I could go on and on and on. Better people make better anythings because better people have better character—which then drives performance. Think about it. If someone is hardworking, resilient, creative, unselfish, honest, respectful, focused, trustworthy—and a myriad of other character skills—what will happen to the value they offer? What will happen to their contribution to the team? I am committed to helping teams think deeply about the practicalities of character skill develo...

We live in a house that was built about 135 years ago. Our driveway, a third of a mile in length, is an unfortunate combination of mud, rocks, and gravel. Excluding the tiny house that our son and his wife built nestled in a stand of cedars, our nearest neighbors are the cows that graze on the far side of the rickety fence. It is country living at it's finest--except for the dust and dirt. I probably vacuum the rug in front of the kitchen sink at least twice a day. Now understand, I am not a clean freak but once the dirt and debris carried in on shoe bottoms covers a substantial percentage of the surface area, I am compelled to do something about it. But that is not the worst of it. When the morning sun streams in through the need-to-be-washed windows, a fine layer of dust is revealed. Coffee table. Countertops. Stove top. Everywhere. Even the air itself seems filled with tiny particles that take great pleasure in frolicking about. How does this happen? How can it be? Honestly, I ...