Hills, diapers, and thinking.

We were 19 years old and determined to get up before the rest of our university and run the hills of Tennessee every darn morning.  I’d groggily make my way from my dorm to hers, knock on her door to wake her, and we’d run.  Far.   We’d run camp road, where we could find the most hills.  We’d tackle each hill with spunk, determination, and pain.  

We did everything except think.  We intentionally didn’t think about what we were doing.  About the sleep we were missing.  The friends who thought we were crazy.  The screams from our bodies to stop.  

Don’t think, just do.  

It became a sort of mantra for us throughout different experiences.  When we had those last minute projects that kept us up far too late.  Don’t think (I mean, it is only college,) just do.  When the boys broke up with us.  Don’t think  just do.  Just move on.  Or then there was the time that we bathed buck naked at the village chief's house with the bucket of water his wives fetched for us since we had just walked 30 km on dirt roads from one Mali to Guinea to get there.  Don't think about it, just do it.  Maybe we avoid dealing with things, or maybe we were on to something.  

I’ve adopted this mantra numerous times since my first was born.  I forgot to think it during labour, but I have lived it many times after that.  Like when I was attending a wedding (yes, this was yours Danielle) and my daughter’s poopy diapers leaked onto my nice pink dress, right on the side.  I didn’t think.  I just did.  I hoisted her to the washroom and used a wet wipe to smear wipe it off.  Good to go.   And like the time I flew across the country with a nursing baby and a toddler, 2 car seats, 6 suitcases, photography equipment, 3 dolls, backpack of endless kid activities, and a diaper bag popping at the seams.  Don’t think about it, just do it.  Kick that stroller closed for security, swing it up to the conveyor belt while holding a kids hand with the other strapped to your side.  Take off all those little kiddy shoes and find them again on the other end.  No problem - just don’t think about it.  

It has served me well.  

I plan to adopt it in labour if I every stumble across that situation again.

Now, as a year is closing and a new one is opening, I’d like to make it my mantra yet again.  This time with a different spin.

Don’t think, just love.  Starting at home, don’t think about fairness, avoid counting the poopy diapers to convince myself of how amazingly sacrificial I am, refrain from wondering why the house is a mess again so quickly, just love.  

Moving to the community, don’t think about the differences with neighbours that could make it easy to avoid them, just love.  Don’t think about the awkward moments that might come if I reach out, just love.  Don’t dwell on the time I don’t have, just love anyways.

And to our world.  Don’t wonder why that person is on the street and assume they’ll use my money for, well not food.  Just love and give.  Don’t rationalize how there are far too many starving children to solve the problem.  Just love my way to filling a belly.  Or two.   

Can you imagine of Jesus stopped to think before loving us?  Stopped to think of how unfair it is, how undeserving we are, and how we will misuse His love?  I'm so glad He didn't.

Don't think.   Just love.