Someone forgot to tell the guy he wasn’t allowed to run my trail when I’m on my trail.
I got away from humanity tonight and, man, did it feel good. I was having an absolute blast tickling the ears of God, asking questions I’m told I’m too old to ask.
“So, Lord… why can’t the trees talk? What story are they telling that I can’t hear?”
“So Lord, how come you can mix pink, green, brown and yellow on the inside of bark and it doesn’t look like a disaster? I mean, humans tried that in the 60’s and it looked awful…. this looks amazing!”
“So, Lord, what’s up with the way the ice melts and freezes? How do you come up with all those different designs?”
“So, Lord, how in the world do you preserve some plants to pop with color in the dead of winter? That plant was bright red! Why??”
I love those moments when God whispers, “Just enjoy me, Baby Girl.”
But then the guy ran by. In as uncreepily a way as possible, I watched him until I could no longer see his legs. This man was in his mid-50’s and in better shape than most 20-somethin’s. But for whatever reason, I got stuck on the image of his legs. (We interrupt this blog post to affirm I am not a stalker.)
He could run.
His muscles reacted when he commanded them to move.
His hips weren’t popping in and out of joint every other pace.
He could run. He could do something my legs have never done without injury. Resentment for this stranger (who had no idea he had bothered the community’s loudmouthed midget) crept in quickly.
My joy died. I was no longer making up fun conversation starters with God. I was going through the list of the things God withheld from my body. Seamlessly working limbs were definitely at the top of the list. Dang it, I want to run…. Why can’t I run?
Right before I threw myself on the dirt to throw a tantrum (you think I’m kidding??? Thanks, but not really), I looked back at God’s creation. Only moments ago I thought the dead leaves, bending trees and gurgling brook were the only things I needed to make me remember the goodness of God. Yet one thing came across my path and I forgot that goodness.
As my heart calmed down, I heard the heart of the God I love.
He simply reminded me that if I was capable of running, I wouldn’t have taken the time to slowly enjoy the things most people ignore. It felt as if He kissed me on the cheek as He muttered:
You and I can run in Heaven. Enjoy me now anyway.