I was rushing down the sidewalk last night, my head down, eyes practically closed because of the cold and bitter wind.  I had no idea that the thick branches of a tree were so close to said sidewalk and did not foresee the headache that those branches would cause.

My loving children laughed as I related the story, laughed at my bleeding, swollen forehead, laughed at my dazed and pained expression.  To them, it was one more in a slew of goofy, silly mishaps that their father had created.  And I laughed with them.  How do I get myself into these messes from time to time?

I’m not looking up.

I used to run with my eyes down, focused on my breathing, intent to struggle with each pain, with the weariness of movement.  I got slower and more discouraged.  Then one day I started to run with my head up, eyes on the horizon, on the surroundings, looking at those around me and the suffering I saw them going through.  My breathing slowed, pain evaporated, speeds increased.  It is so much easier, more enjoyable to run with your head up.

The tree reminded me.  The laughter pointed me once again to heaven, to my Savior.

My head still hurts though…