Sunday, September 18, 2011

I Must Be Healing

I walk often, although I’ve put it off for about two weeks because I hurt my right foot tripping over a curved chair leg, sticking out like a giant comma. (Obviously I missed my cue to slow down and pause.) Well, I’ve missed my regular morning walks--the way they help me start my day with quietness and confidence, strengthening me with every step. I’ve missed seeing the way the sky looks when it’s still dark and dotted with starry colons and periods and a capital O of a glowing moon. Or at first light when a growing grayness creeps slowly across the papery horizon defining the familiar landscape of trees, houses, and an old pasture where I frequently experience the cows rising stiffly to greet me. And I bow, smile, and tell them good morning in return. And I've missed seeing when the sun is rising and clouds are strewn haphazardly in ever changing purples and reds. This morning the sky was one of those skies--an artist's messy palate that's somehow beautiful before a single stroke meets a waiting canvas. Later I expect the clear definition of white, puffy balls of vapor filling an endless blue space punctuated with a powerful yellow period, declaring God is in his heaven and everything I’m getting ready to face—the anxiety of traveling in traffic, meeting deadlines, paying bills, and washing dirty laundry—everything will be manageable. I’m celebrating my walk today, and I’m happy to know I’ll be back treading the neighborhood again tomorrow because my foot isn’t hurting too much. I must be healing—hurray!

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