Every stride on
the gray pavement gets harder with the weight of the worry I carry on my
shoulders. I began my run to clear
my mind from the burden of my thoughts, but instead it is having the opposite
affect. Instead, with my
quickening pace another item on my to-do list I didn’t finish pops up. I run further and regret comes at me
like the neighbor’s barking dog, over some choice I made that I wish I had done
differently. Unfortunately for me,
most times, my mind isn’t my best friend.
More often than not, it is my worst enemy. Reminding me not only of today’s unfinished business, but
plaguing me with all my past faults and failures.
The evening was
chilly, but I was hoping that would help numb some of the parts of my brain I wanted
to ignore. The uplifting beats blaring through my headphones weren’t drowning
out the thoughts that were consuming me.
My life was becoming too hard.
I couldn’t breathe but not because of the energy I was exerting with my
run, but because the pressure of it all was making it difficult to breathe. The pain in my side from running uphill was
nothing compared to the one I felt deep within the walls of my heart. It all
became too much and I had to stop and catch my breath. I turned off the music, and bent down
focusing on my breathing, and holding back the tears. It took every ounce of energy left in me not to
crumple to the floor.
Although
spring was right around the corner, the grass wasn’t quite awake and the
flowers weren’t brave enough to make their appearance. The path I ran wasn’t much to look at
during these winter months, but a patch of gold caught my eye. One little flower embraced the cold,
February evening. Some might argue
that this little solider is neither a flower nor a thing of beauty but instead
a nuisance. It looked like hope to
me. This brilliant example of life
was so bold to withstand the cold and uncertain Texas weather. What made this tenacious little flower
pop up over and over again, after being overlooked, unappreciated, even
poisoned and crushed? Most people wanted to get rid of them by any means
necessary. Yet there it was. Lone and beautiful. Unaffected by the negative attention it
got. I looked around me and saw many
more patches of brown, lifeless grass, and in the midst of it all, bright,
yellow dandelions shown as inviting as the sun. Standing tall, taking whatever
life threw at them. Dandelions
adapt to their environment and the weather, and therefore, continue to present
their golden smile when most fragile flowers simply fade away. I wanted to be more like this strong, insistent
little flower. I would adapt, and
I would overcome the storms in my life.
I stood up, standing a little taller. Turning on my upbeat music, I began my rhythmic strides
again. The fears and doubts still
not completely disappearing, but I would survive. I would come out of this
season of my life, with the grace and elegance of a little flower, at times
overlooked, unappreciated, but pushing through. I continued the last part of my
run, a little lighter, with less on my shoulders and lot more hope.
~E
I am sure I will never look at a dandelion the same way. What a well-written, perfectly timed post! Thank you for giving us, your readers, inspiration to continue to hope and to find the tenacity (and audacity) of the dandelion within ourselves.
ReplyDelete