This morning was the first time I went running in California. I had found out which direction I should run to be in a safe part of town, and also discovered that mornings here are actually not hot, but very pleasant. After puttering about my apartment for thirty minutes (I never actually want to start running) I finally got out on the road, and had a wonderful time.
While I greatly miss my shaded country roads of the Mid-West, there are still some beautiful shade trees here, and pretty views. Its just a different kind of beauty.
At one point I was a little zoned out…it was a beautiful day, I felt the rhythm of my feet across the pavement, when out of nowhere–chihuahua at my ankles.
Had I been in the Mid-West, it probably would have been a Great Dane or a huge Lab, so I guess I can be thankful for that. Thankfully, the chihuahua episode lasted mere seconds, and then it was back to my run.
As I was winding down I passed some old folks’ apartments. I saw an older gentleman out by his truck and hoped to smile at him, but he had moved away by the time I got near. Then I saw this older woman with her cane, appearing to be starting a walk. I smiled hugely and said, “Good morning!” Her smile back was wonderful and in her creaky, beautiful voice she said, “Well good morning to ya.” For a brief moment I felt like stopping, but I just said, “Have a great day!” and kept jogging. With every step I jogged away, I became more certain that I should–that I wanted to–turn around and make small talk. (Yes, it was that little nudge in my heart). I could hear her moving slowly down the sidewalk behind me, cane tapping against the cement at steady intervals. I stopped, turned around, and walked back. When I got nearer she said, “Time to walk now?” I laughed and agreed: “I need to recover!” I got a little closer.
“I’d like to introduce myself to you.”
“Oh! Well my name’s Jones. Hazel Jones.”
[I wish I could insert a picture of this beautiful woman here, but since I can't, let me describe her. She was about five feet tall, with warm, caramel skin and a wrinkled, happy face. She had a small-brimmed straw bucket hat, salt-and-pepper braids sticking out at random. She was wearing one of those fantastic matching outfits that grandmas wear, the loose-fitting shorts that fall to the knees and crew neck t-shirt--all in pink floral print and looking very comfortable. Her cane was newfangled: a shiny, coppery type that only added to her overall class. I'm not sure she had teeth. Her words and smile came from deep inside (you could tell): an artesian well of joy. Like I said--beautiful!]
Hazel and I began walking down the sidewalk together making small talk. She told me about her family, how she had been in Fresno for over 50 years but wished she was back in the Mid-West, like Chicago and Detroit. It was so fun to share that connection with her. She talked about thanking the Lord for her blessings every day, and told me that every morning the first thing she did was read her Bible and pray. Then as she got ready throughout the day she would continue to pray. Her advice to me? “Put the Lord first, and take care of yourself.”
(Its funny how, when I decided to stop and talk to Hazel, I was hoping to be a blessing to her. Turns out I could hardly get a word in edge-wise, and I ended up walking away feeling an overflow of blessing. And its funny that sometimes I get panicky when I feel that nudge in my heart, like I’m scared what the Holy Spirit will ask me to do. Turns out His intentions are to bless me!)
“Put the Lord first, and take care of yourself.” As friends have been asking how they can be praying for me, I tell them to pray that I pursue and love Jesus Christ more than anything else. I know I need those prayers. And often when friends send me encouraging notes, they often tell me I need to take more time for myself. Apparently, Hazel has learned a thing or two in her many years on this earth, and felt enabled to share her wisdom with me. As we parted paths (the whole exchange was probably two minutes long) we reminded each other of our names and blessed each other. I prayed that God would let me see her again.
