My run started a little late this morning. I had the intention of getting out there early. It just didn't happen. For whatever reason, I woke tired this morning. And feeling heavy. Not necessarily physically heavy, just a little weighted down in the head or heart. Maybe both, but I couldn't even tell.

I didn't have the intention of running especially far or especially fast this morning so I decided to just get out there and see if moving my legs could help me shake the funk. I've enjoyed coming back to running for the most part. After running the marathon in January, I quit running altogether. And I wasn't sure if I'd ever start again. I was just tired of it being something I had to do when at some point in my training it stopped being something I wanted to do. This is in the midst of watching many of my friends take it up and love it. And excel at it. I quit and I didn't even care. I was just that tired of it.

So in August when I decided to finally put my shoes on and see if I could still love it, I decided I would do it without a lot of pressure. Of course I would want to see improvement pretty quickly. Afterall, running is not something one wants to stick with if they consistently suck at it. So I decided this morning to not put any pressure on myself. I didn't have to do this. I could choose to. That alone seemed to help me at least get started. And as I ran on, the fog began to lift a little. And then I began to have one of the conversations with God that I so often only seem to have when I'm running. And as I moved through prayers for the people and situations that have been heavy on my heart, I asked God what he needed me to be for a particular person. But He answered me with a question of His own: Have you asked me what I want to be for you? I couldn't help but think that I heard Him incorrectly. Why would He ask me that? Didn't I already know the answer? But He persisted, and as I was running down that beautiful tree lined street, I mustered the courage to ask Him what I was afraid to know the answer to. I was truly afraid that if I asked, He would answer me with silence. And I'm not talking a thoughtful, pondering silence before a long, eloquent answer. I'm talking a withholding silence, the punishing kind. The kind that hurts more than words ever could.

But that isn't what He gave me this morning. He answered the question in ways so specific that they could have only have been the longings of my heart. Longings I had been afraid to acknowledge. Desires I was afraid to call my own because who I am to deserve such beauty and love? But He showed me this morning that He wants to be the sun that warms my face if I will only look up. He will be the soft blanket upon which I lie if I will only stop to rest. He will be the strong hand that holds mine if only I will reach out. He wants to be what no person can be for me, if only I stop trying to make them Him.

I can only say that I ran with a certain stillness today. My breath was a little steadier, my path a little straighter, my footfall a little lighter. And when I looked up through the wide stretched arms of the lovely old oaks canopying the street, I saw the sun. And it warmed my face.