True, hopes deferred may make hearts sick,
But so may hopes fulfilled.
And comfort for a smold’ring wick
May not be what it willed.
For often hopes transfix upon
The means, and so detach
The running from the marathon,
The sewing from the patch.
And what was meant to foster growth
In fear and love of God
Becomes instead a broken oath
Upon the paths we trod.
Tis better far to see the gifts
In light of he who gives
Lest graces be turned into rifts,
Nouns turned to adjectives.
Remember heaven ne’er forgets
Its own. God e’er shall be
Sure hope in spite of fears and frets,
The anchor in the sea.
Photo by Kirill Pershin on Unsplash
Last semester, two friends and I decided to run a half marathon. When we signed up for the race, however, we knew we would need to change some habits. I had to break my bad habit of avoiding exercise and form a habit of regular running throughout the week. I had to pay more attention to what I ate and to when I ate, breaking my bad habits of eating whatever and whenever I desired to form new habits of practicing moderation and of eating healthier meals. The process of breaking old habits and of forming new habits was difficult at first, but the work proved worthwhile when we each crossed the finish line of the race.
Fast forward to this semester. I’ve failed to run consistently since the race. I haven’t abandoned exercise altogether, but I haven’t worked as diligently as I did last semester. Although my intentions are good, I’ve found myself slipping back into old habits again.
What happened? What affected my progress? Continue reading
Let me make one thing perfectly clear: I am by no stretch of the imagination a “sports guy.” Sure, I played little league softball for a few years, dabbled in some volleyball at a local park, and played some football and soccer at church, but I never gained a passion for any of them, in part because I was never all that athletic. I was also homeschooled until I graduated high school, so I never played for a team during those years. Furthermore, my immediate family members are not really sports enthusiasts, although I do have a few ties to Texas A&M (shout out to my Uncle Don, Uncle Jim, and Mom). I’m far from competitive, low on team spirit, and largely ignorant when the conversation turns to fantasy football draft picks. Until Saturday, I had lived my life without the ESPN app and its catchy jingle (Da-da-da! Da-da-da!). Continue reading