For me, walking is no longer an automatic, mindless function. I struggle walking, wobbling with each step, anticipating the predictable pain and weakness of successive strides.

I used to walk at least three miles a day at the crack of dawn, high stepping it through my neighborhood or speed walking across the dam at the lake across the street, greeting the sunrise. No more! I now need a full can of WD 40, a couple of hours, and a heating pad to get my muscles going. I have a new normal that keeps shifting as these autoimmune diseases continue to keep me company. Nevertheless, I can proactively “walk while I have the light” (John 12:35).

My walking expresses my character even though it currently takes on a new look as I plod along trying to understand God’s presence.

How do I walk?

I walk while cuddled in my chair, praying intentionally each morning.

I walk settled at the kitchen table, relying on my pen to take steps for me.

I walk through my garden, inhaling the fragrance of captured sunshine, anticipating the joy of sharing its bounty.

In this season of “disability,” I’m purposefully walking each day, stepping deliberately, reaching my awareness destination of God’s presence.

How do you “walk?”

But those who wait for the Lord’s help find renewed strength; they rise up as if they had eagle’s wings, they run without growing weary, they walk without getting tired.

Isaiah 40:31

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