Slowing down...

[I’m listening to White Ladder by David Gray.]

We had just left from taking in good coffee and conversation at Eclipse Coffee. I knew that I wanted to spend more time with her, but I wasn’t entirely sure how I could go about it.

“Do you want to go for a walk in the park?”
“Yes.”

So we walked. This park had so many memories for me. My freshman year, I laid here looking at the stars with my first college room mate, a high school friend, and a girl that I haven’t talked to in 4 years. My senior year, we convinced a friend to ride her bike into the creek while we video taped her…at night…in December.

Now, I was walking with my future wife. She was walking too fast.

“Slow down.”
“When I walk, I like to exercise.”
“But don’t you ever just slow down? Don’t you ever just…stop and look into the sky?”

We stared into the depths of the night as the stars stared back in a sort of brilliance dimmed by the town’s lights. In slowing down, in stopping and looking, in listening to her breathe…I think I knew that I loved her.

We still walk fast sometimes. Sometimes we run. Sometimes we run from each other. But when we slow down, when we stop and look, when we listen…we know we love each other.

That’s part of what defines us, isn’t it? When we have the capacity to take in the world and can do so in such a way that we admire the marvel of ingenuity and creativity expressed, then isn’t life just a little better? When I was running along on Monday, all I could hear was my own breath and my feet hitting pavement [along with the occasional passing car]. I’ve loved these early morning runs [whether I’m alone or not] because it affords me the opportunity to see a Birmingham that isn’t mired in poor bureaucracy, it allows me to see a city that isn’t brim-filled with noise pollution and late August heat.

What I see when I run are the wisps of clouds painted deep purple, orange, and red as the sun rises. I see the lines filled with mortar that separate bricks on a house that’s over one hundred years old. When I run by the firehouse mission, I see men who are hungry and eagerly awaiting the opening of doors of kind generosity. I see police who are coming to protect and serve their community. When I run by the Merita Bread Bakery I can smell the wonderful aromas of mass produced bread.

Going a little slower, I get to notice all the wonderful things that I never see when driving to work with the purposed intent of arriving early enough to check out my gold box on amazon.com.

With the good, I see the bad too.

I see the man who has build his bed out of boxes under the Red Mountain Expressway. I see the shanty home built behind a fence under cover of brush across the street from an attorney’s office. I experience the indifference of drivers when they don’t see me running in the crosswalk and nearly move me one step closer to meeting my Savior and Friend. I can smell the factory emissions [when I’m not by the bread factory]. I see that shady guy who is sitting in his car on the bridge of Richard Arrington that separates the North side of downtown from the South side of downtown. I see that guy walking down the street with a large stick to protect himself. When I walk the same way he does after my run, I can see the fear in his face and feel the tension between us.

Tomorrow is Thursday. Two days from now is Friday. On that Day, people will say, “I can’t wait until this day is over.” Out of the other side of their mouths they will say, “I am so afraid of dying.” I just think it’s so strange – it’s so strange that I would work so hard through my day without telling my wife how much I love her. It’s so strange that young lovers would walk through the night without admiring the richness of the sky above them. It’s so strange…