This post has been a long time in the making, but I finally have the attitude and confidence to own it.
A few weeks ago, I went on a Friday evening run. Sometimes doing late evening runs makes me feel better about being
a waste of space sleepy on Saturday and Sunday mornings. So I set out, iPhone in hand with a good running mix and MapMyRun, to run around 5 miles.
It was incredibly humid out that night. I hit the halfway point of my ‘normal’ run around Magee-Womens, and had just turned around. A bunch of undergrads were clogging the sidewalks near Pitt, and I found myself selfishly wishing, “I wish they would go away.”
And then God laughed as He made them – and the humidity – go away with a torrential downpour.
At first, I tried to hide under awnings and roofs. But then I realized that I was already drenched with a delightful mix of rain and sweat, and threw my hands up and said “Forget it, here I go.” And in rain that hit my face so hard that I almost lost a contact, and with my feet squishing in my Asics, and with my iPhone absorbing every drop of moisture that wasn’t repelled by my hand…I ran. Without abandon. Embracing the coolness of the rain, chuckling at the drivers on Fifth who looked at me like I was crazy to be running.
I think it’s safe to say that my life in the past few months has largely modeled this run. After trying so diligently to keep up appearances and plaster the smile on my face when I felt like crying and screaming, I’ve finally thrown up my hands and said “Forget it, here I go.”
And through His grace and through the people with whom He’s surrounded me, I have learned just how remarkably strong I can be on my own. That inner voice that was silenced for so long roars with praise and might for Him, for independence, for mercy and passion and justice. Don’t ever let me go, Lord. (The song below has largely been my anthem through this divorce.)