She walks when she’s weary…

Its early, one of those mornings when you abruptly waken to realize you have overslept your alarm clock and are late for work. I jump out of bed and begin to rush through my typical morning routine, as if it really matters now. Through what little light that is offered from a soft morning sun, I fumble for my clothes, I try in vain to not wake my sleeping beauty. Yet when I glance to the place I know she will be, I find that she has already risen. Then it hits me, its Saturday, while I have somewhere to be, it’s not work, and I am not late. I slow my pace considerably. Instead I take it in.

I take in the fact that while I have spent the solid part of 20 minutes rushing through a simple routine, my wife has instead been methodical about hers. She has in fact already finished her morning walk and is now sitting in her chair reading her bible and drinking her cup of coffee. This routine has been as important as any routine that mankind has mustered in his mind. It began with simply an exercise. For health reasons, Lori began to walk every morning, this walk however would turn into a journey with Jesus as He too would rise early and go along.

Its here on these walks when she has the time and the chance to unload the burdens she’s borne. A chance to drop that excess weight, both physical and spiritual. I think back sixteen years ago to the birth of our first child and realize that from day one she has questioned her abilities as a mother, mentor and friend. Having added five more to the fold things have yet to change. She still has doubts…We all do I suppose.

But there on those little walks with Jesus, he calms her fears and applies his grace like a slave to her often broken heart. If she spends too much time pondering the events of the last year her pace will slow and the weight is added back like a heavy coat, slowing her even more. Thankfully the weight is a reminder and not a burden. A reminder “to come unto to him.” And she does.

Her strength is remarkable and her faith is unparalleled. As a man, like many, I had, I think formed an element of pride in what I considered to be my own strength. Perhaps I have a failed understanding of strength. I adjusted, I pressed on, I dug deep…all the while never really being honest with myself about certain events and how they have affected me, or should I say infected me. Truth is that strength is what I was witnessing in my wife, I was instead dealing with an infection. One that if not handled by the great physician himself would have been deadly.

What I have witnessed in her is the resilliance of one who knows where to take her troubles and is determined to do so no matter how much it hurts.”A woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.” She gets up every morning to school the children, nurse their wounds, kiss their cheeks, and make their many appointments. She knows the strength she needs must come from another source. So she exposes her weaknesses, believing that in her weakness she will find his strength…and she has. I however am still learning this lesson and still nursing the infection. Thank you Lori for all that you have taught me and for your deep and abiding love of Christ.



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