Prudence is love, making wise distinction between what hinders and what helps itself.
—St. Augustine of Hippo
I emerge from our bedroom in my running clothes and announce as if I was sharing an official proclamation from the throne of a kingdom:
“I AM GOING ON A RUN.”
Junior, my husband, long-since accustomed to my tone of proclamation, doesn’t bother to look up from the rerun of Growing Pains he is invested in.
Annoyed with his lack of proper awe and reverence I go on nonchalantly:
“Yeah, I plan on running four today.”
He drops the remote and looks up.
“Wait, what? FOUR MILES?!”
That’s better. Now I have his full attention.
“Yup.” I grin, “I know I haven’t managed more than a mile every two weeks or so, but I’m feeling strong and I think I can manage. I’ll take the old route to the library I used when training for the marathon.”
His face betrays his doubt but he knows better than to hit me with something as silly as reason. He starts to say something, thinks better of it, and says,
“Okay love, be careful.”
“I will. I’ve got my phone.”
With that, I slam the door and step into a brilliantly blue winter day—only mildly chilly and a tiny bit windy. I select my running app, running playlist, stretch a bit and hit the road.
I make it just under half a mile when I realize there is exactly zero chance I am running four whole miles.
This is problematic for multiple reasons.
First: Junior and his face will be right.
Second: Junior and his face will be right.
But mostly: This will mean I would not be executing a goal I had set for myself, no matter how ill-conceived the goal was.
The cool air begins to whip harder, and with every new step, my breath becomes more shallow. My lungs feel tight as I try to force even breathing.
Still, I drag one foot in front of the other, refusing to stop. I start to picture the path to the library, a mile and a half away. I’ll have to make it to the stop light, up a hill, through a neighborhood, and past the park, and that would put me at an even 2 miles.
Me: I DON’T WANT TO WALK, JESUS.
Jesus: I can see that.
Me: I want to run as far as I said I was going to run.
Jesus: Yes, I see that too.
Me: (Slowing down): I’m not going to be able to make it.
Me (Stopping): Ughhhhhh.
Jesus: I want you to tell me something.
Me:
Jesus: Why don’t you want to walk some and also run some?
Me: Because I don’t like to walk. I like to run.
Jesus:
Me: Okay okay. Because I don’t want to fail.
Jesus: Who says walking is failing?
Me: I do.
Jesus: Will you still get to the same place? Will you still get to chat with me—the best part of running (btw I like our chats too)? Will you still get exercise on this beautiful day I gifted you?
Me: Yes. Yes. And Yes.
Jesus: Okay then, love. I need you to know the difference between being tenacious and being stubborn.
Me:
Jesus: There are things I will ask of you where your work ethic and your tenacity will be needed and necessary. Places where you will have to hang on and fight tooth and nail. But this? This is not one of them. This is a place where you are being stubborn. You are creating a battle that does not need to be fought.
Me:
Jesus: Walking in some places is important and necessary. This is something you must know in this stage of your life. You will want to plunge head first and do do do and go go go. I know that you know I have some important things for you to do. And I need you to see that there is nothing wrong with well placed walking. Slow and careful is not bad. And often, it will make the running more fruitful.
Me: I love you.
Jesus: I love you too.
Me: I’m ready to run.
Jesus: Atta girl.
///
“Conversations with Jesus” is a recurring segment in A Book For Us.
The first place I ever began having back and forth conversations with Jesus, as opposed to the one-sided talks where I mostly repeatedly asked and complained, was during my runs around our neighborhood. I suspect this was because my runs were one of the only places he could have my undivided attention.
I share a few of our chats throughout this book as a tender reminder that Jesus loves to hear what we have to say, but also loves to speak to us.