This morning brought me a new experience that had me really thinking about what we are walking through right now as we wait to become the parents of our sweet little babies. It all started on Tuesday, actually. I was supposed to run nine miles that afternoon when I got off work. And I started out intending to run all nine, but it was so HOT! I could not do it. My body felt like it was melting. So I stopped at five miles and resolved to do my nine mile run on Thursday. Today.
The problem was that it wasn't getting any cooler. Alabama is a toasty place to live this time of year, so I knew I would be in for a rough run if I went for it on Thursday afternoon.
So I did something I never thought I would do.
I woke up just before 4 this morning and was running at 4:25. Eeeeek!
And Adam will tell you that I am not a morning person. There are days when he all but has to pry me out of bed with a crow bar. In fact, on more than one occasion, he has come into our room to find me still sleeping and asked, "Honey, are you planning on going to work today?" I just don't do mornings.
But I somehow popped out of bed, got dressed and hit the pavement. Adam and Daisy even came with me for a bit. The part I did not think about ahead of time was how DARK it was going to be. I mean, the sun was not even thinking about coming up yet. It was really OK for a while because there were a lot of streetlights. But then I got to this one stretch of road (a stretch I have run on every week but always in the afternoons or later mornings) with NO streetlights. Not a one. Just the occasional front porch light on a house.
I was running blind.
So I parked myself on the double yellow line in the center of the road, the only thing I could see, and stuck with it. Thankfully, I was in a very nice area with really well-paved roads. It was the first time in my life I have thanked God for tax dollars going to paving roads regularly.
And I have to admit to you that running in total darkness was a bit unnerving at first. I didn't have a clear view of my surroundings, and I could only see a few feet in front of myself. I just had to trust that the road would be there. But after a bit, I started to get used to it. My strides became more confident and I felt more certain that I would make it to the other side and back into the joy of streetlights.
And you know what? I did. I made it just fine. Even though I could not see the other side while I was running. Even though there were a few times when I lost sight of the double yellow lines and veered off into the grass. Even though I could not see what was going on around me. I made it.
And as I was running this dark stretch of road, God tapped me on the shoulder and opened my eyes to the truth that the physical challenge I was facing right then was, in fact, a mirror of what He has us going through right now.
When it comes to our adoption, I am running in the dark. I can't see or control what is happening around us, what is happening overseas, what is happening to our children while we wait to bring them home. I cannot see any of that. But just like I had to trust that the road would be there this morning, I also have to trust that God will be right here with me every single step of the way. All I can do is follow the path He has set before us. Sure, there will be times when I veer of track (so many times already), times when I get scared, times when I want to just turn around and get to a place where I can see. But I know that I don't have to do those things. I don't have to do them, because the Lord Almighty is with me. That is the very definition of faith, isn't it? Trusting in the One we cannot see. Believing, knowing that He is here.
He is the one charting my path, and as long as that is true, it's OK if I cannot see exactly what is going on.
"For we walk by faith, not by sight."
2 Corinthians 5:7
P.S. Now to set all minds at ease (especially my mom's), I am investing in a light of some kind to allow me to see the road and others to better see me (although, who are we kidding? I didn't see a soul while it was dark.). Safety first, my friends.