Air Time

I'm flying today.

 My happy place-Sky Harbor.

Call me silly, but I loved being a frequent flyer.  I'm on my third flight in three weeks, and take off next week again.

Recompense.

Yesterday was by far one of the best days ever.  I bought a golf cart and named her Betty Boop.

 My fourth cart:). She joins Red Ride, Greenie & Honky.

Can you tell how delighted I was?

This week has been a roller coaster...it's a good thing I'm overly fond of such amusements.  I'm a very sentimental girl with a memory that is sometimes too good...how often I wish I could simply forget.

 

Life would be easier.  Much easier.

The fact is this:  the past, whether thinking of it, explaining it or rehashing it, is the past.  There's no changing it.

Crying over it not only stops my forward momentum, but literally spins me in the wrong direction.

 Which is harder?  Up or down?

When trail running up or down a steep section, hesitating is typically what results in a fall, that and not picking up your feet.  I am now pretty certain I have a scar from my first fall during my first attempt at trail running, all those months ago.  It delights me!!  What an amazing momento of the start of that personal journey!

And yet the scars on my heart I weep over.

Wow.

Why do I blog?  For moments like this.  The cathartic nature of writing; the "aha" moments.

I am well able to celebrate the scars of my journeys.

All of them.

"Rejoice for the steps of the righteous man are ordered of God."  Psalms 37:23

Long ago, I came to despise winter.  I dreaded its return in spring, so badly did the cold hurt.  One year I purposed in my heart to look for beauty amongst the dreary frozen landscape, and remarked how beautiful the bare trees looked on both skies of gray and blue.  

 

The branches lacy displays brought respite from the harsh cold and the ache it brought my body.  Imagine my joy that spring when I noticed buds and the appearance of green long before I had in past years; the emerging foliage restoring hope of warmer days long before they actually occurred.  The appreciation for those bare branches still lingers even as I have moved to a warmer climate; the memory of those cold days no longer holding dread.

 

How beautiful is the lacy pattern of scars on my heart....each jagged line healed and my heart still beating strong.  How beautiful is each moment I had hope, and what a tapestry it has created.  The simple joys I've experienced far outweigh the moments of hurt...I've been very lucky.

Very lucky indeed.

When I fell that first day trail running, I didn't know that I was cut until later when I peeled off my running capris.  It didn't stop me from running, nor did more falls on subsequent runs.  Instead they invigorated me-battle scars that proved I was learning something new, that I hadn't stopped trying.  Recent successful runs have given me great joy; while my endurance is still very limited, I'm loving the journey...even when asthma attacks cause me pause and frustration.  My goal is to be able to run up any mountain in the valley--a very tall order for this girl with unpredictable lungs--and I have no agenda or timetable for that goal.  It will happen if I simply keep moving forward, doing what I know to do.

So shall it now be with my heart.

Air time.

It's good for me.