The Man On The Wall

The driveway of my Mom and Dad's house was enormous. At least when I was a kid it seemed enormous. And as an adult when I powerwashed it once for Mom, it seemed enormous then, too. But when I think about Mom and Dad's driveway now, it's not the size of the driveway that I recall most of all ... I recall the stone wall that ran along the side of the driveway, the stone wall that was just the right height to sit on and dangle your legs off of as a child and just the right height to sit on and place your feet on the concrete of the driveway as an adult. That wall didn't mean nearly as much to me years ago as it does today ... today that wall fills my mind with memories of Mom and Dad as they sat on it. Memories of them sitting together ... Daddy with a twinkle in his eye as he put his arm around Mom's shoulder and leaned in to kiss her, Mom feigning her disdain at his public display of affection while she secretly loved every minute of it. Memories of Daddy sitting on the wall in his well-worn overalls chatting with a neighbor, straw hat perched atop his gray crown of hair, or pretending to experience great pain as my son Matt would run up behind him and pop his suspenders (yes, my dad loved suspenders as much as I do). Memories of Mom throwing her head back and laughing with her eyes squinted shut and her nose scrunched up, or sitting and breaking green beans into a large silver pot which sat in her lap. And then there are the memories of Mom sitting on the wall waving goodbye to me and my children as we were leaving to head back to Kansas City after a visit ... the memories of Mom sitting on the old rock wall waving goodbye so many, many times. Yep, that old weathered rock wall that stands even now next to a giant driveway at the top of Ormand Drive will forever hold a special place in my heart.

It's odd to me that there's now another rock wall in my life that I see every day, just like I used to see the one next to Mom and Dad's driveway. There's a rock wall that runs along the side of the parking lot at my office ... actually, there's kind of two rock walls around the parking lot. I moved desks a couple of weeks ago, but for several years I sat at a desk next to large window that gave me a perfect view of the parking lot ... and the walls. One day a while back, I was giving my weary eyes a break from reading and I was gazing out the window. There was a man sitting on one of the walls, a man dressed in exercise clothing. I quickly became entranced as I watched the man stand up and begin to go through a series of stretching exercises, obviously in preparation for running. My mind was racing as he prepped for his run ... I wonder how long he's been a runner? I wonder what route he runs? I wonder how far he runs? I wonder if he runs every day?

I had to blink back the tears in my eyes as I sat back down in my chair ... the minute I turned away from the window, I knew down deep in my heart there was a reason why I looked out the window and saw the man as he prepared to run. For all the lessons God's been trying to teach me, I think maybe the man on the wall was one of the most important. Here's the thing ... those questions that flooded my mind when I saw the man really had nothing at all to do with the man on the wall. The tears I was trying to blink back escaped and rolled down my cheeks as my own answers to the questions coursed through my heart and buried themselves in my soul. 

"I've been a runner my whole life. I've run a route that has trudged up soaring mountains, plunged into deep valleys, danced along bubbling streams, stumbled on rocky shores and skipped through lush meadows. I've run more miles than I can count, more miles than I even know. I've been running since the day I was born."

The man on the wall, friends ... the man on the wall.