Joy Deserves a Body

Last week, after the marathon, I was in a meeting with some of the folks joining the Camino trip this summer. They asked about my post‑race reflections, and I told them how grateful I was that Elizabeth had asked what I’d learned from six months of writing letters and practicing joy and gratitude. Among many of the threads I was weaving together from the whole experience, I wasn’t just naming the joy embodied in the wonderful people who have walked with me through the years—I was also leaning into joy myself as playful, embodied, and sometimes delightfully absurd. Another way to say it is simply this: joy deserves a body.

Celeste wrote me this email after the meeting, and it was so poignant as she is holding a big ache after losing her sister who was also her best friend last week to cancer: 

Dear Emily - 

Your life has been and continues to be a means of grace for me. So many examples! Last night in our zoom meeting when you said “Joy deserves a body” and then later we adapted it to “Grief deserves a body,” God spoke to me. And something of that truth became embedded in my heart and mind. In fact, it was a multi-layered experience for me to receive that message. So good at the time - something to hold and treasure and write down and ponder in the moment.

But later in the night when I wasn’t sleeping, and feeling so overcome and frustrated and lonely and sad, the message came back to me. And ultimately I received it in my body as I heard God say, “you’re grieving, dear Celeste, that’s what this is, and your grief, this grief deserves a body. So your wakefulness is not wasted. It is not a problem to be fixed. It is not an indication that something is wrong, but rather than something is very right as you and your body metabolize grief and anger and fear.” And I was able to give myself a new level of permission for all the BIG feelings that were and are so overwhelming. Because I could believe GOD was seeing and honoring and caring for these feeling - God was welcoming them. Such a gift that came through you. Didn’t take away the grief, but offered a palpable sense of God’s presence, a huge comfort. 

I thank God dear friend for your wisdom, your generous love, your ongoing openness to me and to our gracious Lord. And I thank you for living and embodying joy amidst so much that you hold and carry in your heart and mind and body.  Yes, JOY deserves a body and lives so beautifully in you. 

“I thank my God on every remembrance of you.” Blessings for this day -

Celeste

Here was my response back to her: 

Dear Celeste,

Your email was beautiful. To hear how “grief deserves a body” met you in the middle of the night—how God used that phrase to name what was happening in you—humbled me in the best way. What a holy thing, that the same truth that carried me through the miles could keep close to you during the night (like the wonderful maritime flags) and remind you that nothing in you is wasted, nothing is wrong, nothing is too much. Just grief doing its sacred work. Just your body metabolizing what your heart has been holding. I’m grateful beyond words that God spoke through our Camino meeting last night.

And thank you for seeing me so clearly. This whole season—these 26 weeks of writing letters, practicing gratitude one person at a time, letting joy have a body—has been such a beautiful journey. I’m so glad that one of my best friends asked me what I had learned from it as that phrase (gratitude/joy deserves a body) came out of me looking over the letters and trying to find the through line.

I am giving thanks for your open heart that allowed that to be a doorway for God’s comfort.

Know that I’m so grateful for your friendship, your wisdom, your tenderness, your way of naming God’s presence in the real and the raw.

Blessings on this day, and on every feeling your body is holding with such courage.

With love,

Emily

Stick Libraries and Other Delights

 

If you can't see the print, it says, 

Stick Lending Library

Attention Dogs, Children, Wizards and Other Esteemed Stick Connoisseurs: 

Need a stick? Take a stick. Have a stick? Leave a stick.

Richmond Beach walk on Monday afternoon with Jill 

neighborhood gathering with Andi, Libby, and Whitney 

Jodi coined a new term/verb: "To Snoopy" after I gave her the letter I wrote her for Boston talking about the Snoopy Dance

Look who showed up at our doorstep this morning! 

Alison Brooks is in town for a sports medicine conference,

 and we were so happy to get some time with her! 

Sunflower Race Pictures

Morning Glory

 

until next time, Mazama, we love you! 

Cheers to Thirty Years- Sunflower Relay 2026

 

We ran the annual Sunflower Relay today to celebrate our 30th anniversary coming up this summer. Along the trail, lots of folks shouted out "congratulations," some asked if we were about to get married right there, and one guy even told us he was an officiant and offered his services. At the finish, another runner came up and shared that she’d been married for 14 years. She asked what the secret is to making it to 30. Part of our answer: doing slightly ridiculous things like this together and still knowing how to play after all these years. Also, the ability to start over—again and again. When we asked her what’s kept her marriage strong, she said her husband can still make her laugh, even in the middle of an argument. So between the three of us, we landed on a simple recipe: play, humor, and forgiveness. Here’s to many more happy miles together! 

Tamara, Dave, Elizabeth, and surprise guest Liam who flew in for the race ran in the half marathon. 

Isaac, Micah, Jason and I were on a relay team. I was worried I'd be the weak link from still recovering from Boston, but I was able to rally as my legs were so happy to be back in the Methow Valley. 

taking Isaac to the start 

star of our team (who ran Leg 1 and Leg 5) 

I ran leg 2 today (a favorite stretch across the suspension bridge) 

5.6 miles of active recovery today!! 

A Prayer of Joy and Thanksgiving

This part of "Catalogue of Unabashed Gratitude" that I listened to in those early miles in the marathon below pretty much sums up the heart of the experience.... Thank You.....

Favorite Part of Catalogue of Unabashed Gratitude

God of mercy and strength, thank You for getting me through.
You know how many times I called out for help—
in the hills, in the cramps, in the moments when I wasn’t sure if my body would hold on.
You heard every plea,
every breath that became a prayer,
every step that needed more than I had.

Thank You for meeting me mile after mile,
for strangers whose cheers for “Joy” filled my cup,
for music that put a spring in my step, 
for surrounding me with the love of the people who carried me.
Thank You for the grace that rose up in me just when I needed it most,
and for the kindness of two runners who stopped to check on me close to the finish,
helped me steady myself,
and got me moving again.

You have been good to me—so good.

Good in the strength You gave,

good in the mercy You offered,

good in the joy that surprised me,

good in the cheers that surrounded me,

good in the love that held me upright when I could not hold myself.

And God, thank You for the ridiculous, overflowing joy of it all—

for somehow winning “Best Dressed” in Boston

with a blue wig and a heart full of gratitude,

for being featured in an NPR story I never could have dreamed up,

for the golden‑hour drive home with music pouring through the car

and the whole day sparkling with pixie dust,

for the laughter, the delight, the holy absurdity of it all.

Thank You for the joy of sending those letters,

for the gift of getting to tell people how they carried me,

for the way gratitude multiplied every time I named it.

And God, thank You for what this whole journey taught me—

That every mile is a thank you

That joy multiplies when named

That joy deserves a body

That joy is playful and sometimes wonderfully absurd

That joy is an inheritance,

passed through stories and faces and the people who loved me into being

That joy is a spiritual practice of attention—

of noticing the grace along the way.

That joy happens when you see someone deeply and they see you back. 

That joy is resilience, a way of rising again and again. 

Thank you for the chance to

practice joy,

embody joy,

breathe in joy, 

and run on joy.

Help me remember this joy of what You and I got to do together. 

Help me rest in the truth

that presence matters more than pace,

that gratitude is the real finish line,

and that joy is still here,

waiting to be chosen.

Receive my gratitude,

my awe,

my tired and overflowing heart.

Let this finish line become a place

where I remember

Your faithfulness,

Your nearness,

Your goodness

that met me step by step

and meets me still.

Thank You, God,

that Your joy

is my strength. 

 Amen.