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Last March, my dear friend Audrey and I ran a half-marathon in Washington, D.C. This race was such a thrill that I will never forget. Aud and I began that morning jumping onto a subway that headed down to the starting line. The morning was C O L D. Let me tell you, these two Texans were NOT READY. But we bundled up the best we could and started for the beginning of the line. We finally began the race, both doing incredibly well. Headphones set, the two of us listened to our own devices, allowing us to get into the zone. Every once and a while Aud would tap me to check on me and vice versa.

For 13.1 miles, we stayed together. The sights that we saw along the route was something that we can not take lightly. History was the pavement in front of us and all around us.

By the end though, I could not see. My body was becoming weary which was weird because this was not my first race. But as we began to get closer to the finish line, my energy depleted as Audrey somehow has a push of energy.

Audrey began to pick up speed. I was not about it, because I wanted to save my energy for the last leg of the race so that I could sprint to the finish line. But as we kept running a long I could not see the silly finish line.

Audrey asked, “Can you just sprint a little bit? We are literally almost there!!”

Frustrated, I answered, “No, I cannot even see the dang finish line.”

In reply, Audrey said, “Court, it’s right in front of you.”


I find my current season of life a lot like that moment. The finish line is incredibly near, yet I cannot seem to see what is ahead. My own vision is clouding up, keeping me from trusting the long haul of my life. Left and right in D.C., we passed by historical markers and beautiful figures, yet my focus was so trained on finishing that race that I was missing everything I passed.

Last week I ran into a friend at a coffee shop. She asked me how my semester was going and what my next move was post graduation. I begin to explain to her the dichotomy of feelings I was experiencing and my anxious heart in just wanting to know the route I needed to take. She began to paint a picture in my head.

“Imagine driving on the road with fog. You cannot see much in front of you, so you begin to slow down. You focus on the little that you can see and continue driving, slowly but surely.”

A couple of days later after my reflection of the race and my encounter at the coffee shop, I received a phone call from my friend Jess. We begin to catch up, and I tell her that I am just trying to be obedient in the next season of life and that I just want to “know.” 

Jess said, “All you need to know is the next step.”

This simple truth was hard for me to handle because in some cases, I see things as all or nothing. Either I need to know the future or nothing at all. But, that is absolutely not the case. All I am responsible for is the next step. In that responsibility, I can just simply surrender.

These have been visions over the last week that are telling me to view the bigger story. All of these stories create beautiful parallels in my life, allowing me attain a grandeur perspective.

I am not sure what your finish line is, but I want you to be kind to yourself. It is okay to look long, but know that it is also okay to just look at your next step.

 

courtney wetzel