Sweet Russ

30 for 30 is over and if there’s one thing I’ve learned through this process it’s that blogging every day takes some serious time and commitment! I guess if this was my full time job and I got paid for these riveting blog posts then it would feel less stressful or challenging to come up with topics every day. I think we all know I clearly struggled some days…

The point of this self-imposed goal (other than to set an attainable goal before turning the big 3-0) was to keep me writing. So today I’m posting an essay that I’ve thought about blogging for awhile now. It doesn’t have anything to do with being 30, but I think there have been enough of those posts. Thanks again to all you dear people who occasionally browse through the randomness that is this blog.

Wednesday morning 5:20 AM my alarm goes off. I reach my hand over and hit everything on the corner of my dresser in an attempt to make the beeping stop. Then I’m faced with the first hard decision of the day: either roll over and go back to sleep in my cozy bed or roll out of the warmth and attend the ‘Power Hour’ class at the Y. (For clarification: power hour in this context is an intense hour of cardio circuit training; it is not a drinking game or hour-filled religious event)

I close my eyes tightly as I debate the decision – they clearly don’t want to open yet. I tell myself how sleepy I am and how another hour of sleep would really be great. But then the thought of what Sweet Russ will say to me today enters my mind that’s all it takes. My feet are on the floor and I’m feeling my way to the bathroom (my eyes are still protesting the decision).

Russ is a white-haired gentleman with gleaming eyes and an unassuming smile who sits behind the pass scanner desk at the YMCA. I’ve come to secretly call him “Sweet Russ” because I find that title more fitting that just Russ. He’s not there when I arrive at the terrible hour of 5:50 AM but I know he’ll be at his post when I leave for work…that’s assuming I survive the dreaded Power Hour. I borrow a lock for the locker room from the equally as nice (though not quite as charming) gentleman who has the unfortunate 5:50 AM shift and then it’s off to class.

I trudge through 'Power Hour' and think about how deceiving the title of the class is because I do not feel at all powerful during this hour. If anything the class points out how weak I am as my arms shake during push-ups and my legs feel like jell-o after the first fifteen minutes. Thankfully I’ve somehow managed to endure the weekly hour of power mornings -- to date anyway.

After I catch my breath and get ready for work, I walk down the long corridor to the pass scanner desk and as expected, there Sweet Russ sits. His wrinkled eyes light up behind his thin glasses when he sees me and the smile that’s always on his face remains.

“Good morning Russ, how are you?” I ask as I approach the desk. He generally responds with something along the lines of, “I’m fine – and you are too, pretty lady!” I tell him he’s too nice and hand him my borrowed lock, today it was lock #3 which means that Russ’ reply was, “Number three? Well that’s not right – you’re clearly number one!” On days when I have lock number #1 he responds with, “Number one? Well, that’s very apropos.”

Though I am certain that Sweet Russ makes kind remarks to everyone that passes by him daily, when he says them to me I feel like I’m the only one he’s noticed that day.

His dependability at the pass scanner desk post is something I can count on and look forward to each morning. His kind words stay with me throughout the day and pop into my head when I need encouragement. His smile allows me to forget how sore and tired I am; they replace my wincing with a smile of my own.

As I’ve thought more about what it is I enjoy about Sweet Russ I can’t help but see the parallel to Jesus. The Lord is constantly willing me to meet me each morning. His words stay with me throughout the day and in moments where I can grasp His enjoyment of me, I can’t help but smile.

I’m thankful for the way that Sweet Russ points me to Jesus just by being who the Lord created him to be. I can only hope that I allow the characteristics of Jesus to shine through me as clearly as he does.