The birds sing the sweet song of the passing rain. Red, yellow, and orange leaves peak out of the grass. The air is warm. The last remaining warmth as we wave goodbye to October and welcome November. And the children nap -- nap heavily after riding bikes and snacking on pomegranate (in an attempt to kick the first seasonal cold).
And there is a moment to reflect.
I ran yesterday. A half marathon. And yes, I do feel God's pleasure when I run. I'm flying and forgetting and remembering and thinking. Forgetting the grind of the past weeks, remembering my dear friend Karen who ran into the arms of our sweet Savior Thursday morning, and thinking about why I'm running.
It is freedom. It is presence. It is a gift not to be left or abused. It is the way, that since I could run, I've found peace with what is and isn't. And there is air, wind, flesh, and movement. Even when my muscles ache and I can't find enough air, I know deep down it is there and I'll find it if I don't quit.
So with my life, I have to dig deep to find air to breathe. Yet, it is always there, and I find it, and I survive. It is this that drives me. Sweet heavenly air. I won't quit, until, like Karen, I've run into my sweet Jesus' arms.