You Just Never Know

It's funny how simple things can make such a big difference in life, isn't it? Things like a new pair of walking shoes for the trail or a glass of cold water on a hot day or ice cream to soothe a sore throat or a bike ride in the cool evening air or bumping into an old friend at the grocery store ... simple things that make a big difference because they make you feel alive. Things like an early morning walk yesterday without Oliver the wiener dog by my side ... a simple thing that ended up making a huge difference in making me feel alive ... a simple thing that ended up teaching me some profound lessons ... about others ... about myself ... about God.

As part of a new health and wellness initiative at the company where I work, those of us who chose to participate received a Jawbone UP fitness wristband on Friday. If you don't know what a Jawbone UP is, you should Google it ... it's totally awesome. It works in conjunction with a smart phone to track how many steps I take, how many hours I sleep and the hours of deep sleep vs. light sleep, how long it takes me to fall asleep, how many times I wake up in the night (yeah, needless to say, I have terrible sleep patterns), how many calories I'm burning both at rest and when I'm active, and probably a bunch of other cool things I haven't learned about yet. I was anxious to get home Friday evening and try it out, and I took Ollie for a short walk as soon as it was cool enough outside to hit the trail knowing that I probably wouldn't get a very accurate reading until I had time to set everything up correctly. I was surprised that I was able to log around 2,400 steps on what was a relatively short walk for me and Ollie, and I couldn't wait for Saturday morning to arrive so that I could go for a real walk and see what the wristband would tell me.

I woke up early (after only 3 hours and 36 minutes of deep sleep, by the way, in my total 6 hours and 22 minutes), fed Julie and Ollie, ate breakfast and got dressed to go walk. By the time I was ready to head for the trail, Ollie had snuggled himself back under the covers in my bed and no amount of coaxing could convince him to leave his spot so I decided to let him sleep and walk alone. I was barely to the end of my street when I knew that it was a good thing I had left Ollie at home in our cool house. Though the temperature was only in the upper 70s, the humidity was almost suffocating and I would have ended up carrying my little wiener buddy for a good part of the walk. "Good call, Oliver boy," I thought to myself as I crossed the street. "You would have pooped out on me for sure this morning ... better that you're home in the air conditioning, little hound."

It was as I approached the end of the first wooden bridge that I had an initial inkling that my solitary walk might be one of those simple things that was about to make a big difference ... not necessarily to me, mind you, but to the other people I passed along the trail. 

"Good morning!" called an older gentleman as he and his wife approached the bridge holding hands. "Where is Mr. Ollie this morning? Is he feeling okay?"

"He's fine," I replied cordially. "He's just being lazy this morning and sleeping in."

"It's awful humid out," said the petite little woman. "We've seen you carry him on your shoulder when he gets tired. Always makes us smile when we see that."

I laughed and thanked the sweet couple for their greeting and wished them a happy day as we parted. "Such nice people," I thought to myself as I wiped away the sweat that was already beginning to form on my forehead. "I wonder how many years they've been together ... such sweet people." 

There were a lot of folks on the trail yesterday morning, perhaps trying to beat both the rising humidity and the rain that was predicted to arrive later in the day. And while I'm not going to share all the conversations I had on my wiener dog-less walk, I do want to share this ... I counted the number of people who talked to me yesterday morning on the trail ... 17. Yep, 17 different folks stopped to talk to me ... about Ollie. All 17 of those people wanted to know where he was and if he was okay, and all of them said it didn't seem right to see me without my faithful canine companion by my side. Some of them mentioned our bridge running and barking game ... some of them spoke about me carrying him on my shoulder ... some of them talked about how cute he is with his pink nose and what a sweet spirit he has ... some of them said seeing us on the trail together each evening brightens their day.

By the time I crossed the final bridge and turned toward home, one overwhelming thought was crashing through my mind as the tears I had been fighting to hold back began to flow down my cheeks. There are so many days that I struggle with finding my place in life ... where I fit ... where I belong ... what I believe ... what I'm supposed to do ... where I should be. Days when I wonder if I will ever be comfortable in my own skin and okay with who I am ... days when I question my worth ... days when I doubt God's plan and purpose for me ... days when I feel invisible and so very alone. But then ... but then ... but then ... He steps in and turns a simple, solitary, early morning walk on my beloved trail into something so huge and overwhelmingly profound ... something seemingly so simple that will long make a difference ... a difference in how I see others ... a difference in how I see myself ... a difference in how I see Him.

You just never know ... you just never know who is watching you walk ... you just never know who sees the added weight on your shoulders ... you just never know who notices when you're alone ... you just never know whose heart you are touching ... you just never know, friends ... you just never know.