Able to Run

Almost 100 degrees and not expected to drop until around 8:00, so I lace up my shoes and I set out.

Thought of the earbuds but chose silence thinking is there any good thing extra I might hear and benefit from?

Striving for every kernel of truth, every recommendation for continuation or confirmation that the things I’m doing I’m doing right.

Instead my arms are free, the pavement too hot for the Labrador, I’m energized by the thought of just the one thing, the decision to walk swiftly until I reach the spot at the top of the long stretch of hill to the place that is level, obscured and a straightaway.

It is hot. My breathing rebellious against my plan and pattern and my legs, large and weighty as I try to be rhythmic in their lifting. “I just can’t run.” I’m known to say and today I was told “It’s a mental game.”

So, I remembered the days of before, the steep hills on the North Georgia campus, early morning my roommate and I starving ourselves in the cafeteria and running three times around the campus.

That was a different determination.

One contentious and filled with a fervent need to control at least one thing I could, my weight, my body, my fear in a strange and new environment.

“But forget all that— it is nothing compared to what I am going to do. For I am about to do something new. See, I have already begun! Do you not see it? I will make a pathway through the wilderness. I will create rivers in the dry wasteland.”

‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭43:18-19‬ ‭

I make it past five fences and houses and give in, I walk and then turn the corner towards the road shaded and step it up again.

Different now, I notice my feet lightly falling and my forwardness more at ease.

Cars pass and I’m unconcerned by the shape of my shorts riding up, crooked and cornered. I continue.

Different, my pace, softer.

Quiet thoughts become prayer.

Lord, thank you that I’m able.

Help me to be more willing.

me

I considered the things I’ve decided of late, bravely trying and being unconcerned with how far I might go or if I might not be invited to participate at all, knowing I’d not go anywhere at all

Unless I stepped out.

Stepped forward. Changed some things, cared less about who is watching, waiting for my fall, surrendering back to the sameness of me.

I told my cousin that I’d decided to put my art out in a new places, broader landscapes, it seems it’s not as popular here, or maybe it’s run its course.

She replied,

Even Jesus wasn’t popular in his own hometown, he had to leave, go other places. VC

So quick was her retort, a few words in a lovely and long conversation, wise kernels sprinkled in through her from God.

I arrived home, red faced and t-shirt clinging to my chest, my face sweaty and making little trails on my cheeks, I go for cold water.

Saying to my son, “I ran more than before.”

His reply, “Keep adding to it. Every day add more, that’s what it takes.”

I thought again about the thought becoming a prayer, thankful at my age and with all the trauma of my past, its potential toll on my body and my mind, my soul, that I am able and I’m more willing than ever.

So, my prayer will be that God sustains my able state while I catch up on my willingness, while I continue at a smooth and steady race towards the ideas He decided were for me a very long time ago.

Remembering it was art that landed me in that place of my youth and I faltered there, I was harmed in some horrible ways and yet, it remains the determination to create, the words, the colors, the love of expression.

I am still able.

Thank God, I’m able.

Able to move forward, sporadic spurts or long stretches strengthened by ability and a new decisive willingness.

Through Him.

He is able. He is willing.

LINKING THIS STORY UP WITH OTHERS WHO LOVE TO TELL OUR STORIES OF JESUS. LINK HERE:  http://marygeisen.com/laughter-is-the-best-medicine/

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