Keep Moving

My daughter Eden recently went to an amusement park called Fairytale Town. It was an enchanting place to explore, and she was fortunate enough to have her cousin Evan with her. Alone she would have wandered around in mild excitement at the attractions, like the moat-enclosed castle, the humongous shoe with a slide, live pigs, and pirate boat. But with Evan at her side, the two of them were literally screaming with anticipation for what was next. They ran up to each fascination, climbed, jumped, slid, and ran off to the next.

I was glad that the park had many attractions because it kept them enthralled for hours. Halfway through the adventure Eden abandoned her shoes. Apparently they were bothering her feet. It wasn’t until later at home that I saw the huge blisters on each foot. One was white and puffy, the other was raw and red.

As soon as Eden saw the sores she began to complain about the hurt. The complaining escalated until she was wailing on the couch and refusing to move. In her biggest whiny voice she proclaimed, “I can’t walk!” I refrained from rolling my eyes, having witnessed her run quite unaffectedly through the many attractions at the park.

I can’t be too hard on her because I have my moments when I nurse my wounds. It can be very easy to use this ache or that ailment to drop my active intentions. I lie on the couch sometimes, inwardly screaming, “I can’t walk!” I suppose I need a mom, rolling her eyes at my dramatics. Telling me that if I can manage to walk to the refrigerator, I can manage to walk a mile and back. Or perhaps I need an energetic cousin to inspire me to run with excitement for hours.

Eden eventually got off the couch, and within a minute or two she forgot about her owies. Even if I don’t have a coach cheering or jeering—or whatever I may need at the moment—I still can be my own coach. When I get up and start moving I usually forget the reasons I had to stay on the couch within a minute or two.