There it sits. Glowering and hunkering over me, the one that’s supposed to tame it. My rounded tummy protests the need to move at all. My feet feel weird in these heavy athletic shoes. My heart wishes I’d just do it. My brain says, “Ho-hum…ho-hum…ho-hum.”
I hop on and place the magnetic circle to its engine—it revs to life and growls as it slowly increases its pace.
Grrrr…I can beat you, Weakling, it trash talks.
“No argument there, Beast,” I mumble. I resign myself to an easy pace and then my bored brain begins to whine--big time. I look at the timer: four minutes. Only four? Oh man. I am doomed.
Grrr…yeah, Flabby Gut…give it up now and I promise not to hurt you, The Beast wheedles.
I shudder and a notion begins to rise that this Thing will take me down if I miss a single step. My heart begins to enjoy the activity, but my spirit begins to moan. “This is not what it’s cracked up to be,” my brain yells loudly. “Give up! Give up! Let me READ, I beg of you!”
My legs begin to flag—their under-used muscles crying for mercy. I look at the timer: six minutes. Oh my word; only six?
Grrr…you know you’ll never overcome my power, Human Jell-O.
I start to cave. I know I’m a failure. “This is just gonna be like all the other times, Beast. You’re gonna win.”
Grrr…spinning, spinning, spinning your wheels, Puny One.
But wait. What’s this? It looks like headphones and an iPod—with a note attached:
Honey, Try music. Try worship. Try God. Only HE can tame The Beast. Don’t give up! Love you! Hubby
I slip the earphones over my ears and turn on the iPod. Music comes to life and my feet begin to move. My arms pick up the rhythm and I adjust the pace to suit the music’s tempo. Worshipful songs pour balm into my soul and I get in the zone—the worship zone, that is.
Grrr…hey, what’s going on, Peanut Arms? It feels like you’re dancin’ up there…just watch it! I have the power to throw you if you miss a step…grr…grr…grr.
For once, I don’t hear The Beast’s growl; I feel only the rolling motion of music, and my feet and my body are not fighting it anymore. My spirit looks up to heaven, and in my mind, peace begins to grow.
Faces stretch out before me in a long line of prayers: Sharon and her precious siblings...Verna, my dear, dear friend…Patrick and those sad good-byes he’s facing, Lord…Chrissy and her health…Scott and Deb—all those burdens, Lord, ease them…and how about that cheer? Lynda has an agent!...all my gem friends and their laughter and fun—their chatter and their hearts…Joe and the ministry, Lord…Simon Peter…Rachel and Eli and all their ex-Amish friends…Lord, I can’t pray fast enough for these needs and I can’t worship deep enough for all the joys!
Grrr…you’re on a roll there, Squirt! I guess you’re not so bad when you get pumped.
I smile and pat the heart of The Beast—the little round magnetic circle. We become partners in motion as I lift my eyes to the ceiling. The fan is creating a soft breeze and I notice three blades turning and turning and turning and reminding my soul of Him: Three in One.
“He gives me so much, Beast—even you, because He loves me.”
Grrr…I am made for man and not man for me, y’know.
I marvel at the pace my body is able to keep, and, inside, I imagine all the parts flowing and working together…fearfully and wonderfully made. Tears fall.
I raise my eyes again and let God know how much I’m sorry for all the grumbling and sighing and procrastination. “You’re just trying to help me, Lord. I can’t serve you properly when I’m in such poor health…You’ve answered my prayer for healing, and in some ways, this Beast is part of the answer.”
The music on the iPod slows and with it, my pace. I look at the timer: thirty-two minutes. I start to remove the magnetic circle, but before I go, I listen to The Beast one last time.
Grrr…way to go, Lady…don’t forget about me now…come back again and let’s go the distance together…oh, and don’t forget your music.
“Nice worshiping with you, Beast. See you tomorrow.”
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