I'd not be too happy if I was allergic to Dogs.

I think that there is one incident from my childhood that I remember with such complete clarity, and while many memories fill my mind and often there's mostly always a trigger that will make them come. However, the one thing that I do the most often--blowing my nose-- happens to be a trigger for this particular memory so I don't think I'll ever completely forget about it. (Sorry about that segment, all you English proffessors out there.)
Take me back, foggy memory screen......
It was my very first day in my brand new school in 2nd grade. Oh, that would have made it...1990? My class had 72 students in it, and two teachers. We made up grades 1 and 2. This 1st grade girl sat next to me, she had on dark turqoise stirrup pants (remember those?), a green and purple sweater with hearts on it, and a tall cone-shaped dark green princess hat with a pink scarfy thing hanging from it. It must have been some sort of dress up day, and I didn't get the memo because I remember feeling embarassed that I was just wearing one of my sweet hand-me-down outfits from when my cousin (who is 2 years older than me) wore it. So anyway, I sat to the left of this girl, and she covered her mouth and coughed. I very clearly remember her coughing up a green blob of snot, and without even thinking twice about it licking it up while her hands were still covering her mouth--if she'd done a better job, I think she would have sucessfully hidden the act. I remember thinking to myself, "self, why would she not just close her hand up and get up and get a kleenex?" And so now, to this day, whenever I blow my nose, I am reminded of this story. And I've got baaaad year-round allergies, so that's a lot.
Now, you're probably trying to find value in that little antecdote, and I assure you there is some. Somewhere. Maybe.....when life hands you mucus, lick it up. I mean, wipe it off.

Now, speaking of stirrup pants, I was golfing with my dad and brother today and I noticed something. I noticed that when I hit my driver poorly, I always think, "Man, I could have hit a 7-iron perfectly (because that is a club I typically hit well) and it would have gone farther than that." But then there are the times when I hit the driver juuust perfecly I can milk 220 yards out of it. And then I realize that no other club in my bag can even compare to that. So it makes me wonder if it's worth the risk to pull out a driver at most tees. I mean, there's always the chance (like 1 in 5 or so) that I will slam it. But there's always the other 4 shots that I could have hit another more comfortable club for a better shot.
So how does this relate to life? I think it all depends on what you want to take out of risks you make. It's easy to always play it safe--because you'll always wind out in the positive. I could easily play 9 holes with a 9-iron and a putter and score a 45. Three to four short shots to the green, a putt or two--it's the perfect plan. Or...I could take an entire bag of clubs and shoot a 49, or a 52, or on bad days a 61. But then there's those days where I make those long drives and come out with a 39. I know it's only a golf score, but why walk away with a 45 when I know I could have gotten a 39...maybe. Sometimes when I run a workout, I slack off and don't push my hardest--especially on speed workouts. But when I'm all done, and I'm not breathing hard or being tired I think, "I really could have pushed harder."
So maybe sometimes the road with the most reward (intrinsic or tangeable) is the more rocky one. Maybe it's the one with more ups and downs and twists and turns. Maybe the road to the prize is narrow....this is sounding familiar....
Last January I ran a marathon. It was my first one ever, and my goal was just to finish. I was training, and it was winter and cold and rainy and sleeting in my face and cutting my cheeks and I'd quite frequently consider just stopping and walking...or going to the bathroom at the next gas station for a chance to take a break. But the awful truth of the matter is that no one ever finished a marathon by stopping. And it's true. My theme marathon training verse was Philipians 3:14. Even though I'm not so sure that God had a prize waiting for me at the end of the marathon, it made me remember that sometimes things are hard. And sometimes you want to take a break, or take the easy way out, or mooch gas money off of dad even though you've been blessed with enough of your own.
Sure God gave me life, and Christ died for my sins--but that doesn't mean I'm home free. Nothing is free. Even a 39 in golf.