A luxury afforded Bill and me at this juncture of our lives is most days to own the first couple of hours of the day. We can actually put on slippers, wrap up in our warm robes, and leisurely drink our coffee, read the paper and our inspirational books, and discuss everything from new revelations and insights to Pacer basketball editorials and the current headlines. We then make the bed together and get ready for the day.
The other morning, I noticed Bill just standing there by his bathroom closet, dressed and ready, but rocking back and forth in his new walking shoes. He was smiling.
“What?” I said, waiting for him to deliver a bit more information.
“I love these shoes,” he finally said.
“And...?” I asked.
“Well, I love drinking my coffee with my slippers on, but when I put on these shoes, I shift into another gear. My brain clicks into excitement for whatever comes today.”
He smiled again, quit rocking on his cushy running shoes, and then left for the office.
That left me to process this weird behavior. Just maybe, I thought, there is a balance, a lovely rhythm to the intake—output of life. I am coming to believe that both are so necessary. Just maybe to start off into the flurry of activity without any intake may not only be unhealthy, but may leave the mind and heart gasping for spiritual and emotional oxygen somewhere in the middle of the day’s demands. To spiritually and relationally stretch and breathe deeply, take in the beauty of gratitude, to inhale the fresh gift of one more day, to just BE before we hasten off to DO, changes our perspective and widens our sensitivities to all good things to come. Maybe it is as necessary as stretch conditioning before a physical workout.
But there also comes a time to use that fresh energy to “run the race,” to kick off our slippers and appreciate the bounce in the running shoes of life. It works both ways. Too much lounging in slippers and not enough running shoes makes our leg muscles antropy; the blood never gets pumping to our brains—or the contemplation to our souls. Yet too much running around in frantic flurry of activity without quiet intake, spending time with the lover of our hearts, absorbing the wisdom from that “still small voice” that speaks peace produces little but stress, exhaustion, and frustration.
I can’t help thinking of the “run the race” metaphor from Saint Paul, who advises us to rid ourselves of encumbrances, things that hinder and entangle, and do some deep breathing and changing of our aspirations, setting our goals on much higher expectations. Then when we kick off the slippers and tie on our running shoes, Paul inspires us to run with determination and endurance, knowing that there is a stand full of accomplished veteran runners who have “finished the race” cheering us on. The promise is that if we fix our eyes on the “pioneer and perfecter of our faith,” who is empowering us with the fresh air of victory, “we will not grow weary and lose heart.”
Too long in slippers makes for too little running. But too little slipper time makes for purposeless running. It’s almost never either/or. It’s almost always both/and. Isn’t there a shoe called new balance? Oh, I so hope to find it!
A valentine for the love of your life.
