Crying on the Trail

I was finishing up my last 0.5 mile of my 5 mile roll this morning when a woman made me cry.


Walking towards me with purpose, I could tell this athletic, tall, slim woman had something to say so I took out my Ipod headphones.

"I just wanted you to know that I am out here walking now because I drove by, saw you, and decided that even though my back is killing me, I could do this, too. Thank you for being an inspiration."

I teared up... I'd been praying all morning for a friend who has paraplegia whose back has gone out... It's like, "Enough already, God! It's hard enough just being disabled, could you help out a little here with just a tiny healing touch! He's trying so hard to keep his life together, maintain a job and a household, and stay healthy. It's a huge load to carry, and to have your back go out after going to the gym... well, it just hurts that he has it so hard."

The woman on the walking trail... like I said, I don't know why she impacted me so deeply, but I cried hard as I traveled the rest of the way back to my car. Maybe it was just recognizing that the courage to live expansively with disability, as difficult as that can sometimes be, can affect positive change. There is joy in that. And I don't think my friend with paraplegia knows that joy. He just knows the drudgery of the dailiness of it all... the pain and the suckiness. And that makes me cry, again. Because I want him to experience the joy that can be lived in the midst of the pain.