The World Through My Shoes is my look at living this incredible gift God has given us. As a busy wife, mother and daughter I relish the alone time I receive on my early morning runs. It is in the stillness of those predawn mornings where I often am inspired. Thank you for taking the time to read my words.

Thursday, August 25, 2011

In A Blink

Buzzing.  The alarm is buzzing.  In a blink I open my eyes to the realization I actually at some point did fall asleep.  Then I remember.  The phone call from the previous night was not a dream.  The sadness in my heart is heavy.  My run will help me feel better.

As soon as my feet start running, I begin my conversation with God looking for comfort and peace. 

I had been making dinner and talking with Mom on the phone.  A simple conversation centered around catching up on day to day activities.  She received another call and we said goodbye.  Somewhere between cooking the taco meat and shredding the cheese she called me back.  Crying.  Dad's cousin Don and his wife Phyllis had been killed in a motorcycle accident while touring through North Dakota.  The tears fell while trying to collect what little details we had.

With each step I was running, I was re-living the night before while trying to ease the hurt.  The details playing over and over in mind.  Mom and Dad's good friends Ed and Carol had been with Don and Phyllis on the vacation and my heart weighed heaviest for them.  What horrors did they witness?  It is at this point where I realize there is sometimes hope in the not knowing.  There is a hardness and coldness found in the reality of the details, one that can make it difficult to overcome the harshness of the accident.  I kept placing one foot in front of the other.

Dad, Don and Ed had been friends for decades.  As life had moved along, wives became part of the friendship circle and then eventually us kids.  Wasn't it just a few short months ago that Ed, Carol, Don and Phyllis sat in my living room laughing and talking over a family dinner?  And now, in a blink, Don and Phyllis are gone.

My footfalls break the silence of the morning.  The sun is beginning to rise.

Standing in the kitchen crying, my son asks me what is wrong.  I tell him the tragic news.  Studying my tears, he asks me if they were believers.  I nod, and tell him, "Yes, they are."  With a spark of joy in his eyes, he looks at me and states, "Then it's all ok Mom.  It's all ok."

Nearing the final leg of my run, I thank God for my son's wise words spoken the night before and the hope God has given us.  We will see Don and Phyllis again.  Looking at the mountains before me, I watch as the sun rises.  Then I notice it.  Wafting gently in the air two feet in front of me a single feather falls.  I look around and find no bird.  I stop and watch the feather, wondering where it had come from.  I smile and look up towards the sky.  Not until I had heard the rustling of an angel's wing, did I continue on my way home.  Home, just like Don and Phyllis are.

1 comment:

  1. Cheri,
    I'm so sorry for your whole family to hear about such a tragedy. You wrote such an eloquent, heartfelt piece that is such a wonderful, personal tribute.