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John and I ran 21kms together on Saturday. He found it to be a restful, enjoyable, light jog. I was sure I was going to die the whole second half. My knees were sore, my legs were aching, the sun was beating down on us, and it felt like I'd been running forever. But I survived. 21kms - not bad! John's mantra in a long grueling run is: "Give them nothing, take from them everything." Mine is: "I don't hate my husband, I love my husband" (since he's the one who got me into running!) :)

Yesterday I didn't feel like moving much. So after church I just read until it was too dark and there was no electricity (by the way - seeing the stars shine even more brightly is an advantage of power cuts - and we saw a cool solar eclipse last week). I'm reading "Les Miserables" by Victor Hugo. Long, but amazing book. I was really touched by a part yesterday about Mr. Gillenormand and his grandson Marius. They have a fight over Mr. Gillenormand's son (Marius' father) and politics, so the grandfather and grandson don't speak or see each other for 4 years. They both long for each other and have deep love for each other but don't show it on the outside. Pride. Finally after 4 years they have the chance to meet. The old man is overjoyed on the inside but insulting, proud and rude on the outside. We read of his pain and agony at wanting to show and receive affection and kindness and yet showing a gruff, brusque exterior - so much so that Marius walks out insulted and the grandfather's hearts breaks once again. I can identify with this stubborn, proud old man.

I get angry sometimes. Often it's for good reasons (such as injustices committed against others) but sometimes it's just for stupid reasons - like the phones not working, or the photocopiers and printers not working, or not meeting my (very high) expectations of myself. When I'm angry at myself, all I want is forgiveness, grace, love, a hug saying that it's ok. But I get tough, bristly and rude - because part of me thinks I don't deserve that love, grace and forgiveness. I punish others which punishes myself even more. "How ridiculous!" you're thinking. And it is. I would suffocate or be institutionalized without grace. And yet sometimes rather than accept it, I choose punishment, anger or guilt. It doesn't make sense...