Although metaphorical, this is a true story. Serendipity paid me a visit in summer, 2012. I made the acquaintance of a sweet young man who gave me my favorite hat (the first of many), a song, and once said, “You have beauty and strength in abundance, and a great capacity to articulate both.” I am forever grateful for his friendship and the nudge he gave me when I needed it most.
Running along the path of life, I decided I needed a break from the race. My stride became a jog, soon resembled a half-hearted walk, then barely a shuffle. My friends gave me their arms to hold onto, hoping to help me pick up my stride. This worked for a little while, but I was soon lagging more and more behind. The path was too long and I needed a rest from life’s race. My friends couldn’t carry me down the path and I did not want them to miss out, so encouraged them to run ahead,while I rested a little while. I told them I would catch up with them…eventually.
Walking off the path, I sat beneath the comfort of a shady tree, as I considered my options and watched others pass. In the shadows I found comfort, yet longed to feel the breezes and see the beauty I had once enjoyed while running along that path. As I mused, a few people stopped for a rest and to talk. Their words were encouraging, but the idea of running, again, continued to exhaust me.
One day, a handsome gentleman with the most beautiful blue eyes I had ever seen walked up the path. I watched him intently. This was something I was not used to seeing. He wasn’t running, yet he continued to make progress. He had the sweetest smile and stopped every so often to enjoy the world around him, as he sang to himself.Eventually, he stopped on the path and with a look of concern, joined me under my shade tree.
“Dear Lady,” he said, offering me his canteen, “Would you like a drink of my water?” While his offer was kind, the rattle in his canteen made it clear he barely had enough water left for himself
Thanking him for his generous offer, I reassured him I not only had enough water, but knew where there was a well, just over the next hill or two. “Why do you sit here?” he questioned. I told him I had been resting for so long, I would rather stay where I was than run any longer. He offered me his hand to help me up, as a good friend does.“You do not need to run,” he said. “You can walk with me. When we get to the well, we can both fill our canteens.”
He sang to me as we walked along the path and held my hand just to remind me he was there. This man did not save me. He only reminded me that I was worth saving.