Thank you all for your prayers through this process, the power of the Pez and the decision to be fully naked while still wearing clothes has produced this beautiful book. I had the honor and privilege of being part of the process of the book as well as allowing my story to be told. Loving this race! Tears of healing continue to flow from deep inside as I see my story in black and white. Thank you sister Pez!!!! Yes, trains, planes and automobiles!!!!!! I will never forget our first visit under the fig tree, who would have known.

As I reflect back on the last six years a few things come to mind. First, I am so grateful for the struggle, I am grateful for those who did not try to rescue me, fix me or prevent me from feeling the fear that came with a changed life. Second, if I could have seen into the future back then, I would have probably passed on this whole recovery thing.

Back in my early days of being set free I was searching for pure comfort anything that could feel a tad familiar, something that would make me feel safe. I then came to a point where I understood that true growth, true repentance and the Promise Land only came with change, ouch!

With both feet forward and an eye on those ahead of me, I said yes. With fear and trepidation I followed my faith more then my feelings. With my trust in the great I Am I said yes to the call of allowing myself to be poured out as an offering.

Yesterday with book in hand, I sat on my front porch crying over my story as I saw it come to life through the pages of the book. I could not stop crying, my heart was overwhelmed to see it there in front of me.

What a gift this book will be to those searching to find freedom from their Egypt, experience from their Wilderness and Purpose in their Promise Land. Once again, I have to say thank you to my dear friend Deanna for running her race well, for inviting others along into the journey and for never turning back.

I can't wait for the next leg of the race.

Cris Nole
"Pastor Pez"

"Say Cheese!"

“Say cheese!” Those were the words that ran through my head as my family informed me of the very innocent but toxic mistake I made just a few nights ago as they sat down to eat the gourmet dinner I had prepared. From the top of the stairs my husbands voice could be heard through out the house, “your going to love this one” it was in the tone that told me someone did something and it was probably going to be story worthy and blogging kind of material.

I believe I responded with “what did he do now?” which I need to quit doing, my son informed me that I can’t always just blame him for things that mysteriously happen around the house, on the front porch, in the back yard, in the garage, through out the neighborhood, I just need to stop blaming my 12 year old like that, assuming that he is the one causing all the mischief.

Giggles from the top of the stairs floated through the air and straight into the kitchen, my ears were tickled with curiosity, “what could it be?” What was making my family laugh so hard and why were they being so secretive? They all three leaned over the banner of the staircase, peered into the kitchen, making eye contact with me causing me to grin right back at them.

A few moments of silence stood between us when finally, they spoke up, they were laughing and giggling with each other as they proceeded to tell me that I forgot to take off the plastic from the cheese I had used when I made my daughters’ grilled cheese sandwich. I could only imagine what was running through her mind as she tried to bite down into her warm toasty bread only finding it impossible to break through the cheese; I too could not help but grin, giggle and then breakout into laughter.

All of a sudden, things started to make sense as my thoughts went back to a few moments earlier while I was grilling my darling daughters’ sandwich. I had taken the spatula and pressed down on the top of the bread, I could see the cheese and remember thinking to myself, “I wonder why it isn’t oozing out?” but that was as far as my thoughts had gone.

As I snapped out of my thoughts and started too apologized to my daughter, she stopped me in mid-sentence with a “that’s OK mom, there was another piece of cheese on it” apparently that one was released from it’s wrapper before facing its fate. All was well again in the house but I did make a little note to self, grilled cheese sandwiches taste much better when the wrapper is removed.

A merry heart does good, like medicine.

Proverbs 17:22

Big Foot!

Today is the day we celebrate in the Nole household, or at least my 12-year-old son believes we should be and as his mother, I am. Today is the first time since he was a toddler that I had to buy him new shoes not because he wore them out but because he out grew them. This is a big deal to my up and coming teenage son. He wants to be a man so bad but is still such a boy. As he put on his new pair of shoes to shoe me how they looked, all I could think about to myself was “who do these big feet belong to,” what is happening to my little boy?

Of course, he had to call his father and inform him that he was now only four sizes away from being the same shoe size as him. My husband is my son’s hero and I know he dreams of growing up and walking in his fathers’ shoes, I just did not think it would happen this quick.

So, as I prepare to put my computer in hibernate mode and my head on the pillow, I think I will say a prayer of thanksgiving for the newest season in my life. A season of feeling rejected when really I am loved and trusted. A season where it isn’t cool to kiss my son in public, smell the top of his head in front of his friends or ask him about his underwear.

I embrace this season with mixed emotions, I knew the time was coming, I knew that loving him well meant letting him go but I didn’t think I would become so darn sentimental over a growing pair of feet.

Thank you Lord for my man-cub and the next few years I have to love on him, help me to be patient as he learns to find his way into his own.

Good Night My Friends
Vito’s # 1 Fan Him Mom

Prison Populations and Recidivism - Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger

Prison Populations and Recidivism - Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger

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Our Point Of View!

Why do we find it so hard to walk away from letting others really know “our point of view” and run like a bat out of hell when God gently taps us on the shoulder to say, “Excuse me daughter/son…could you please move? You’re in my way.”? I believe, it has a lot to do with perspective. The Encarta dictionary explains perspective as this…a particular evaluation of something; a situation or facts from one person’s point of view. Simply put…
…Perspectives…2-people looking at the same thing: different views: doesn’t make it wrong, just different

So why do we push and work so hard at trying to get “our point of view” across to others? Perhaps it is because each of our perspectives is very personal and can stem from a variety of many different things that we are going through at that time or have already gone through. From our perspective we make choices; good and bad, and, as a result there are consequences; good and bad, but far too often we press in so hard that we find ourselves emotionally attached to something that is, just what it is…our point of view.

For me, I have far too often found myself in this very place…ok let’s be honest…just this morning I found myself at this very place. However, this I know to be true…when I am in personal relationship with my Heavenly Father, I lay down my rights to my point of view. God doesn’t need me to try and get “His point across”! I trust that the Holy Spirit will work on my behalf. Only then, when my eyes are fixed on the cross, does there become the rippling effect of a paradigm shift and my perspective then becomes eternal. Just like Paul writes in Phil 4:11, I too, will strive for excellence in my relationship with Christ; entrusting my life’s circumstances (or perspectives) to God’s care.

So, what’s your point of view…will you continue to work hard at getting it across or will you allow God to show you his eternal perspective for your life…entrusting it all to His care?


In Christ’s Love,
Donna Whiting

Nothing Tastes as good as skinny feels!

Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels. Try asking that as a question to the 3,000 children who head home every Friday from school, knowing that their skinny feeling is not by choice, their hunger pains they can’t prevent and the next meal they look forward to will not be until they arrive back at school on Monday.

This was just one statistic we heard today as a team of us went to meet with one of our local food banks to find out how we can partner with them and make the most of our time, effort and calling. It was just days earlier when I had first seen the inside of this warehouse, amazed and astonished at the boxes of food and house hold goods, all just waiting to be given to those in need. The hungry and the hurting of our community, those who are skinny not by choice, those who are the least of these, lost in the shadow of the business of our world.
There was an overabundance of food, stacked throughout this warehouse, “how could anyone go hungry?” was my thought. Boxes of fruits and vegetables, pounds of dry goods and electric coolers just waiting to be picked through, yet, as we sat with the director of operation, he made it clear of the need to feed. It all seems so simple, just pick up and put out, just drive in and drop off but that just is not the case, if that were so, many would not go to bed hungry every night in our own backyards.

As we sat in a circle, huddled together like a team waiting to hear the play, the director of operations walked us through what the day and the life of the bank looked like to those who came seeking to join the game. He was a man on a mission with a passion to be in community, he was not searching to be a lone ranger and it was clear that he was not looking for a pat on the back. He seemed to be content with the role he played on his team, tucked away in the massive tin box, on a back road where many pass by everyday. How many cars go by this place not even knowing the extent of the needs that are being filled by the hands of those inside?

“Do not be afraid,” floated off his lips, into the air and straight to all of our hearts. We went from being a little anxious to the information given to us to relaxing and coming to complete peace as he reminded us of the Kingdom we were truly serving. The passion in his voice and the stride in his steps made it more evident that this was not just a job for this man but a call.

I could feel unity in our huddle, I could feel the fire burning in each of our bellies as we all agreed that it was all about being in community. Sharing our resources and coming together to feed the least of these, to clothe the naked and give water to the thirsty. We as a team came to this man searching for direction and that is exactly what we got.

As our meeting came to an end, I could not help but ask if we could pray with our new friend and fellow servant, as he pointed to his arm and proudly displayed his tattoo of praying hands, he quickly said “yes” and shared how he never turned down prayer. With hands held together and eyes closed, we just came in agreement with grateful hearts for the time we had together and for the future of the call.

Those of you who had been praying for today’s meeting, thank you, this is just the beginning. We have been given favor as a group of people chosen and called to reach out to the least of these. We will keep you informed as we head out to watch and learn from those who have gone before us. We will ask, invite, and engage our own community to do the same.

If there is anything I learned today is this, “skinny should be a choice.”

Cris Perez-Nole
“Running My Race”

Pausing In The Moment!

This has to be one of my favorite parts about Running My Race. Pausing in the moment and reaching out to others. Today I had the privilege of celebrating our friends 30th birthday, not with a cake and a party but rather by serving those in our community who are in need.

The warehouse that stores the food for this actual food bank was huge. Boxes and boxes of food stored all the way up to the ceiling. The gentleman that was helping us was someone who had just left the gated community. He had a smile written all over his face that just said, "someone believed in me!" I got to spend someone time with him, he shared how he had been homeless upon his release, and thanks to certain programs, and he was able to get back onto his feet.

As he continued to share, I couldn't help but think about how many lives could be touched by his story. How many people in the community need to see someone who is making it because of the way others had chosen to step in and reach out. I wanted others to see his incredible contagious smile. I shared with him about the call I had on my life as well as that of the group of people I hang with and I asked if he would be willing to share his story with the group sometime. And with a grin that said thank you, he answered with an enthusiastic yes.

The morning came to and end, food was boxed oranges were sorted and relationships were built. We all gathered around for a simple prayer of thanksgiving and then took this photo. I walked away with a grateful heart and a deeper understanding of the call to make the most of every opportunity to give the reason why we have hope.

I pray that when Ralph looks back on his 30th birthday that he will remember it with a smile and know that he is writing a great story and running a wonderful race.

Cris Nole