Redeemed

The boys still sleep soft as I slip out the door this morning.

It starts to rain three miles into my run. I don’t mind, am already soaked through from the heaviness of the air--but I am at the furthest point from home on this well-worn path. My shoes will need airing out. And then there is the chafing.

But the shower doesn’t last and despite my negativity I’m sad to see it go. It’s hot out here, even at 6:30 a.m. It’s time to turn around and run the three miles back, when I see it bowing down to me. The rainbow arches out of nowhere and invites me forth.

I think of all the childhood tales in which the color bow is a door to a magical land. I think of somewhere over the rainbow. And the pot of gold. It is so lovely that I run another half mile or so.

I don’t want to turn around.

But I think of my boys sleeping and know their daddy will be off soon. I must turn my back on this splendid sight.

God is showing off this morning, ‘cause when I turn around, there is the sun—all a-blush and yawning with her slow awakening. She climbs lazily into a bed of clouds, hiding her morning face from shameless voyeurs like me.

I allow myself delight all the way back home.

I slip back in the way I slipped out and they are still asleep. I carry the delight--but all the while, something nags, takes the edge off the joy and I feel old--like I’ve seen too much sorrow. I push it aside and get my Bible.

I read my scriptures like a good girl, even read a little ahead because I can never resist the red letters and I meditate on the two Psalms I’ve chosen, just as Lyla recommended. They are changing me.

The boys get up and I run a mile with them because we’ve started a new fitness program. Lucy Mae comes this time and she runs the whole way too. Her tongue looks like a slice of ham in her mouth and I feel like that too as I instruct my children about stretching and we lift a small bit of weights.

While they shower I cook the big breakfast I promised if they run the whole way. They are still conditioning and it is so hot. I worry about Teddy’s asthma. There is bacon and sausage, pancakes and eggs. Growing boys need food.

I eat a bowl of cereal.

When they disappear I head this way…check email, fiddle. Finally, I go here and, like a slap in the face I know what has been bothering at me.

I say a prayer for Amber’s father-in-law, but I can’t keep my eyes from that first line. The pain is in the first line. It’s in everything that followed the first line until I turned around and let delight in.

I never said I did everything right. I still feel the shame hot against my skin sometimes. If it wasn’t for His grace, sometimes I think I would die from shame.

But He uses everything for the good of those who love Him and He’s redeeming those lost days for me now.

If you’d like to see how, I tell a little about it over at the-run-a-muck today. A big thanks to Amber for her heart on this issue.