Working out might be working...

So I got a gym membership finally and I've been mostly faithfully working out 3 times a week.  I was a little skeptical at first if (1), I'd actually stay consistent with it, and (2), if it would even be worth all the effort.  I mean, not to sound full of myself, but due to my high metabolism, I kinda don't need to work out to "look in shape."  But I know that I'm not in shape.  I start huffing and puffing when I walk up a flight of stairs!  I struggle with lifting things that I used to toss around like it was nothing.  And, frankly, I'm a Morris Man, and that means I like being STRONG.  Right, Dad?  That's what he always told me, anyway.

I still have memories of him doing chin ups on the rafters above our patio.  He was pretty ripped.  And my brother, sheesh, he's a fricken TANK.  But, uh, in a good way.

So, now I'm on the path toward health and strength.  And people watching.

There's this "gym rat" who is ALWAYS at the gym where I go- he walks around in his tight black tank top and cell-phone-carrying-arm-band, picking out the most outlandish workouts I've ever seen (balancing on a halfball while holding a 45 lb. weight, for example), then pretending to be on the phone with someone talking about how he's still at the gym.  I kinda just want to put my arm around his sweaty little frame and say, "It's okay, man.  You're cool.  You have friends.  You don't need to prove anything."

Well, my goal is to gain 5 pounds of muscle, and be able to run a mile in 7 min.  Think I can do it?

Took long enough...

I think I'm realizing daily how this mourning process works.  After being dumped by DC- it's been a roller coaster day to day.  Some days I try to convince myself that things are "better this way" and that "God's got another plan" and yada, yada.  Then the next day I'm writing the most depressing songs of my life.  Here's  a clip from the latest:

Now I'm half-asleep, waiting on my knees for my damn savior to come
And there's no pearly gates in sight.
And through half-open eyes I live a half-lived life...


You get the idea.  Sigh.  I feel bad for Julie.  She has to see me and wonder what the heck is going on.  I think the pain of DC is just going to linger for another year at least.

I've been somehow able to read this book given to me by Tracy called "The Forgotten Ways" which basically outlines why churches that do what was done to me are becoming obsolete and irrelevant in our modern world.  When churches cannot handle honesty and work from a hierarchical top-down leadership structure, it's a dangerous setup for power trips and burn-outs and lots of scars.

Sometimes I imagine myself as one of the disciples, following Jesus around.  Sometimes I'm Peter, gung-ho and headstrong to keep the faith (and failing miserably).  Sometimes I'm doubting Thomas- skeptical and a little unsure of all of this.  Sometimes I'm John, just feeling loved by God and in harmony with everything. And sometimes I'm Judas, thinking that at any moment I'm just going to pull the plug on all of this and sabotage everything.  Right now, I think I'm Bartholomew.  What did he do?  I think he just kinda followed people around nodding and stuff.

Hope this isn't too depressing- just needed to get it out with the thought that maybe someone will read this and identify with something.

Drink Peet's.
Tim

That's what family is for!

I talked with Julie tonight about our family.  Her side, my side...  the changes that have been taking place.  The struggles.  The small victories.  The pain.  I realized something that's hard for me to say.

But before I say it, I think you should know something about me.

I HATE being put in a box.  I don't care if you label me a "doofus" or a "genius"... I just don't want the label or the stigma attached to it.  I'm ME, okay, and so sometimes I'll be a little of this and sometimes a little of that.  Life is tough enough as it is without someone I love trying to tell ME how I am.  Only the good Lord knows me, and I'm pretty sure he's still working on me and shaping me into something better.  The last thing I need is someone I love and respect going, "Gee, Tim, you are such a _____," and now instead of growing I'm focused on whether or not I'm _______ing.  Thanks a lot.

That being said and understood, here is my realization.

A lot of people are going through sh*t right now.  I mean, deep sh*t.  So much sh*t that I'll include TWO asterisks the next time I write sh**.  And often their world is REELING.  They are giving all that they have to the people around them, that the last thing they need is to try and keep track of the latest development in the life of Tim.  In fact, although they may say, "Tim, tell me what's going on in your life," they're probably thinking, "I don't have an ounce of strength to give sympathy or praise to you."  They WANT to be able to be the big brother or sister or uncle or whatever to me, but they can't.  Plain and simple.  They're having trouble just being themselves, to themselves.

So, this is what I say:

"I, Tim Morris, can be predictable."

I can just be "good ol' Tim."

I can make you laugh.

I can be the "funny man."

I can be playful, aloof, and a bit ordinary.  Sometimes that helps.

This is not who I believe I am, at the core, but dammit, if your soul just needs a slice of dependability, I will serve you up a dish of "dependable Tim" that you won't recover from for years (I can be pretty wild and funny).

So sit back, family-- stop feeling obligated that you need to obey your own roles within the family.  I'll take over for awhile.

All I ask is that in this time, you be true to yourselves.  Let yourselves really listen to your heart.  Let yourselves embrace your own lightness and darkness in a world of confusion.  You have no role to play for me.  Be whoever the heck you need to be.  I know how horrible it can feel to be out of control.  I know you feel like you don't have any say in your own damn universe-- just allow yourself to admit it.

Admit it.

God doesn't laugh at that.  God doesn't mock us for being shocked that our world is out of our control.  He knows that we feel that it should.  To some extent, it WILL, one day.

But for now, it's gonna suck a little bit.

But Tim will be here.  However you need him.

I'm not all THAT attached to my "un-label-ability."