Sole Searching

Thoughts from the life of New Balance 803's

We met in the summer of 2001 (click here to refresh your memory). That was some journey. I carried her up that mountain and I could hear her muttering, moaning, at times crying, and more than anything she prayed. At one point, just past treeline, she sat down on a big boulder and cried, saying over and over, "I don't think I can make it God. It's too much, it's too far. Can I do this? Why am I doing this? Now I'm stuck." I just waited, knowing that she would get back up, take a step forward and push herself. I had figured something out about her while we trained and then when we started up the mountain at o'dark thirty that day. She had a deep determination that nobody knew about, in fact I suspected that she herself didn't know what lie deep within. Deep inside she felt fierce, she felt like a fighter. And she was going to fight the ideas she had about herself, the ideas others had about her, and that big mountain that she had stared at for years. This was not negotiable, she would conquer this mountain. After about 10 minutes of silent debate she got up, faced forward and took a step. We hit the top, me covered in Colorado red dirt, her covered in the pride of accomplishment. She did it. I knew she would.

She loves me. She took really good care of me and she thanked me almost every time she noticed me for helping her up the mountain. But I grew worn and so she replaced me and set me in the closet. But I noticed that every time she needed to do something that wasn't "her" she would pull me out and put me on. Somehow I think she looked at me and felt courage.

Some time ago I could hear her asking, "Which shoes should I take?" I didn't know where she was going but I was hoping. "Me, me, me - Beth, pick me. I'll take you where you need to go." And then, it happened. She picked me up and put me in the suitcase. Another journey and she was gathering all the courage she could take with her.

The dirt was different, the voices different, the view different. I walked her up stairs that were rough and uneven. I ran her around a parachute. I rested as she sat on a dirt floor and played ball with babies. Instead of being covered with Colorado dirt I became covered with Kenya dirt. This journey was different. She never sat down and cried in frustration, she never wondered if she could do what she knew she had to. This was no mountain, in fact we were in a valley, but she stepped up and made it to the top anyways. Yeah, I knew it all along and now I think she knows it to.

"The Lord God is my Strength, my personal bravery, and my invincible army; He makes my feet like hinds' feet and will make me to walk [not to stand still in terror, but to walk] and make [spiritual] progress upon my high places [of trouble, suffering, or responsibility]!" (Habakkuk 3:19 The Amplified Bible)