Running Broken

A great friend of mine once said, "Everyone spells relief differently." I would like to add that everyone (or at least I) spells relief differently at different times in their lives. At one time in my life I spelled relief by starving myself, overdosing on diet pills and studying incessantly to avoid having to use my brain for anything else. At another time I drank myself into my pain.

Today I ran. I ran and I ran and I ran. I told God I would stop when the pain stopped. When I knew I would no longer cry. When I knew it was no longer going to hurt. I was waiting for my Damascus moment. I ran and as I ran I listened to Hillsong United on Pandora on my iphone. It is strange that it began and ended with Hillsong. It is strange that his gift to me was what served as the instrument for my comfort. It is strange to me that everything is cyclical, God has always shown me that. As humans we assume everything is linear but its not, as life shows through the ever-changing seasons everything is cyclical, a mirror of eternity. Yet another hint that this life is not "it" that it is our first lap, our first time around a circle that will extend into forever. It is also interesting to me that this lap is what will set the tone for our eternity. Still even more fascinating is the fact that God doesn't mind when we stumble on this lap, as I have done so many times. He only cares that we run with endurance the race marked out for us.

So I am running. I ran for 7 and 1/2 miles...I had every intention of running until I reached my church. Somehow there was something very symbolic about running to my church. I realize its a flawed symbol. I knew I would arrive at my church and chances were there would be no one there...and my pastor most certainly wouldn't be there but it was the only way I knew of to run to God. As I was running my mother pulled up behind me, taking my sister to work. She asked me to turn around and head home, I shook my head and said I needed to run. She offered to pick me up and take me with her. I refused. I ran and I cried and I begged God. I begged God for a sign, a sign that I was going to be okay. As soon as I had prayed, I looked down and there lying in the middle of the road was a key. It was a gold key. With the letters "LSDA" on one side. To most people a key on the side of the road would mean nothing. To me it meant that God had me. A beautiful friend of mine went through a devastating divorce and was given a key necklace from a spiritual mentor of hers. The man who is now her husband has the last name of Key. Irony? Some might think so, but I think God knows better. Now obviously, my husband's last name will not be Key as well, but the key lying there meant something to me, simply because it reminded me that God came through for her, so why would He not do the same for me?