1.9 miles. That’s the distance from our house to Felix’s school. It’s 1.9 miles that I became well acquainted back in September. Most mornings, I added about 0.6 miles and walked the rest of the way to the church for work. None of this was by choice, mind you. It’s amazing how a set of missing keys can throw a wrench in your plans. But, this particular Friday, it was different.
The 1.9 mile walk to school was a choice. That choice led to a 1.9 mile run back home. Running because well…I could. And…it hurt. Every bit of it. Immediately my ankle reminded me of its torn ligaments that just don’t want to fully heal. My lungs reminded me that they prefer Texas heat to cool Nebraska mornings. And my head reminded me that…I. Don’t. Run.
But, I did it anyway. It was hard. It hurt. But…I did it anyway. And…while I sat on the floor of my living room a sweaty, achy mess still trying to catch my breath I realized…yeah it hurt. But, I was stronger for it. And, with each day, I will become stronger still. And while the aches and pains may never go away, that’s ok. Because, at the end of the run, there will be a place to land. A place to rest my tired body. A place to rest my mind.
That place can’t be found in my living room. Nor can it be found in my hometown or my favorite spot on the beach. That place can only be found with my heart. By giving my heart to Him. By accepting that there will be days that hurt. By accepting that there will be days that don’t. And, by accepting that, no matter the circumstance, I can trust in Him. Even when it hurts. Because, on the other side of that hurt, is the healing.
Some days, we just have to get through what hurts to get to what heals.