I saw them first. Up ahead, maybe the distance of two cars or three.
We’d need to go left. They’d be going right.
I stepped it up. My face down, eyes up, are they closer, do they see us?
No idea if they were female or male, four of them gaining on us, I knew we had to get there first. I pulled left. He pulled right.
We can do it. I’m fast. You’re strong.
We got this!
They zeroed in towards us. He saw, “No sir.” I said.
“No sir,” I said and he made a sound like oh I want to bark so bad or scream but, I’ll hold back.
Then they let loose, yipping yapping, yipping yapping, four white fur balls perfectly coiffed bouncing along the asphalt out of control, black lines twisting here and there leashes turning round and round.
He stepped in step with me, his body by my side, but turned all awkward and his head tilted back with a half-hearted plea of a bark fading away into silence.
Good boy, good boy.
We were free, had made it to the track making for a long way around.
It was getting dark. But, we were good and
Free and clear now, free.
We made it to the straightaway and since the sky was turning dark blue and the air felt so very clean, we ran.
We ran a rhythmic run. No strain, no push, no expectation.
We ran. Then, we walked and then because it occurred to me I could, we ran again.
Downhill, feet clapping happy claps on the pavement. We ran with abandon.
Then turning towards home, oh my goodness.
We stopped at the place where we stop and he sat under the crescent moon and I waited.
We crossed to the other side of the road and ran a solid and determined run about a block back home.
Progress unintentional for me, to run.
Progress for me today.
A blog post waits in draft status, been there three whole days, all about tender hearts and hope and falling apart to be put back together by the one who made me.
Three attempts to move it from draft to published.
Probably, maybe trashed. Yes, I think so. I’d gotten all tangled up conveying how my heart became tender, how it felt like a consequence for oversharing here. I had an idea of something big and breakthrough I wanted others to know. It was my heart that wasn’t so much hard-hearted; but, that needed to be okay with being soft, open to a gentle handing, willing to rest in my Father’s hands.
For whatever reason, I couldn’t string the words together and then the draft wasn’t the draft I’d saved. Okay, I told myself, not touching that again and tried to forget about how significant it was, the realization of my need to let go my defenses, my strong facade.
Maybe too fixed up, too contrived, too well-groomed; but, yet held tight by the leash that holds back called comparison, approval, like or compliment in a comment.
Maybe I’d given it the wrong attention, or too much.
I’m the grandma for my son’s dog who was abandoned on the side of the road. Adopted from a shelter.
Not wanted, not trained.
Yet, well-mannered. Attentive, understanding and amenable.
Not at all concerned with being a good dog, just “good boy”.
My cousin told me I shouldn’t throw my pearls to swine.
I understand now, I should save my most truly me thoughts turned words for those who might be open to their meaning and message.
Much like taking off with the untrained but, well-mannered Labrador to avoid the approach and possible attack of the fancy and trained yet, unable to behave pedigrees.
I worry over my words amongst the words of others and then I waver.
I’ll keep walking. I’ll keep noticing. I’ll keep writing about noticing and walking and running and skies and sunsets and yes, yes, yes…
about God who reminded me to cry, who brought me a place where I slightly fell apart in a late night hard cry, only to say.
I’m taking that heart of stone you’ve decided is what kept you confident, brave and strong and I’m making you tender again,
making you open, making you, you.
“I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.”
Ezekiel 36:26 NIV
Helping you run with feet softer, more sure of being safe, more knowing you’re free.
More okay with the decision to run.
I’m linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee who shares some very good advice on who to keep near.