Twenty one days. A lot can happen in one day, even more so twenty one days. I have read that it takes that long to form a new habit, but I do not want to write about new habits today, unless the new habit involves being…awake. Not just getting out of bed awake, I am talking about the full-fledged I-smell-the-coming-of-a-new-season awake. Not asleep, not awake, but ALIVE. The I feel/smell/taste/love/live sense of being alive.
Not what I expect to reflect on when pounding the pavement in a 13.1-mile race. On a cool crisp morning three weeks ago, I hit a wall and experienced some shadow moments that I did not anticipate. And still I ran to them, albeit by a slow walk. The weight of my body, the gravity of the prayers I carried in my heart, the mental temptation to abandon the very call for which I came to the sacred space embodied in the race rested heavily upon me, around me, within me. As I walked, I poignantly felt the daily struggles of my friends for whom I promised to pray. There was even a well-intentioned Samaritan who offered me a ride to the finish line; I declined. I came to run my race to its completion. I had to finish what I began; love compelled me to persevere.
Every race has a purpose greater than me. I finished as the course was being dismantled, yet calmness washed over and through me. “My God, take the prayers of this vessel of clay, borne patiently for love of those for whom I pray, and make something beautiful from them.” It does not matter who sees or knows what I do. Who I am is forged in the hard moments, when I hit the wall in private, and I am reminded of my humanity. I pressed on, I press on, for love. Family and friends texted and called me on the course, cheering me on. Fellow competitors who ran past me told me to keep going. Dare I say it, the heavenly hosts, my friends in high places, cheered me on too, “Remember the love for which you run. Finish and don’t give up. Remember the love.” Even the last song I heard as I finished the race reminded me that only love is necessary.
And that was enough to carry me home. Amazing what love inspires me to do. In the beauty of the slow run I embrace as my walk, my soul flung its arms wide, as it ran through the gossamer veil until it saw the sun. Every pain, every prayer, every step summed up in one word: yes. Yes to a renewed sense of being awake and alive after coming through fire.
O sacred steps taken in love, you take me through shadow, suffering, and loss to purify me. Thank you for the lessons I continue to learn, for I will run until the fullness of the blessing is revealed. Shadow and veil, splinter and suffering, broken earth and stones rolled away, I run to you and I will not let you go until you bless me.
Awake, alive, run, walk…for love. Every race has purpose; will you come run with me?
