By Wednesday, the paths were maybe half clear, but I had to make up a new route, because my favorite, the pond, was ice and snow covered.
On Friday, I took a route from years ago. In the opposite direction of the pond. It looked clear when I started out, but little did I know the conditions that awaited me.
Sidewalks still snow covered and scattered with patches of ice.
So I jogged along streets in the neighborhood.
With no idea where halfway or any other point could be found,
I had just started running and kept going until the timer when off.
Those days I jogged a route so unlike my normal path, my normal routine - the one that goes around the pond.
The one I like because it is
I know EXACTLY how long that path takes, and
where I am along that journey.
My jogging dilemma. My analogy of this point in my life. I long for the safe, beautiful, and predictable. Probably because I sometimes still think that only safe and predictable is beautiful.
But the path I find myself on is uncharted territory.
And yet just like it was so refreshing to get out in the winter air - praying, worshiping, and realizing how much I longed for the outdoor jog after being stuck indoors for workouts last week - I realized I can still enjoy the life journey.
I had gone out.
And it wasn't the same.
Yet it was beautiful.
How l longed for the pond - the usual route.
Not having to think about where I stepped.
I had to be intentional,
light on my feet
so I could stay steady
on not land with my face on the ground.
I couldn't run full speed ahead,
just going on automatic.
I had to be intentional
about where I chose to step
and how much weight I put down.
I needed to steady my feet.
Firmly fixed in a place,
solidly settled IN someone
not subject to change.
That is my word for the year. And those mornings runs outside seemed anything but steady.
Lines of a song echo, "Shepherd of my heart - take my hand and lead me on." And other lyrics resonate, "And my heart will stay steadfast - I know that you are good."