Walking with God

When all else fails, we walk. When the days are long, and our words are few, and we know the tension is growing, we take a walk - anywhere - around Fletcher Park or to the coffee shop down the street for a hot chocolate. But when it cannot wait and we know it because we're falling asleep with heavy hearts and empty eyes, we walk anywhere we have to to wake us up, to feel our feet moving somewhere and to breathe in cold, crisp air.

On this particular morning, we only walk to the end of the street, but it is enough. It is 5:30am, and we get up with an unknown urgency. I throw warm clothes on as he makes the peppermint tea. We're silent as we huddle close because it is cold and my ears and nose are freezing. I am smiling because it feels so ridiculous, but it is too dark for him to know. We don't say much as we walk to the end of the street and turn back around, but we begin to feel a warmth growing. As we moved slowly down the hill, I squeeze his hand tighter and realize that we are walking to outwardly express what we knew we needed on the inside. We needed a change, a breaking of routine, a desperate plea for God to enter in and prick our hearts by His love. Walking back inside, I know it has only been five minutes, but I know we are okay. I sit with my husband and pray thanks to the Holy Most High who promises to show up when we are learning how to love each other, how to let the other in.

Glovers