Early Light: Don’t tell me miracles don’t happen

Today is May 12, 2008. This is the 133rd day of the year with 233 days remaining (it’s Leap Year which accounts for the extra day.)

I’ve been feeling a bit intimidated at the gym lately and craving a more private place to perform my morning constitutional. So today I struck out in my neighborhood, intent upon logging in three miles. Feeling heavy and unfocused, I suddenly found myself at the entrance to the local cemetery. It is constructed with miles of stone paths meandering through burial plots of the founding families of this community.

I paused at the entrance. Should I? Would it be disrespectful to dash through this city of the deceased?

Wait! They seemed to be calling me, and heaven knows they wouldn’t notice the extra 10 pounds (okay 20) I’m dragging around. So I entered, jogging heavily for a few minutes then miraculously I lost all sense of self consciousness. Suddenly I began hearing “Chariots of Fire” reverberating in my brain. I was being cheered on by the souls in that cemetery. I was certain of it. My feet began taking wings. I was running like a gazelle. I was flying!

I ran and ran until I ran out of steam. As I slowed to a walk, I began to study the headstones. One in particular caught my eye. It was simple : Mary Critz: Born 1862. Died: 1955. What was in between those years? What story could she tell? I wish I could have known her, interviewed her. I almost saw her smile that someone noticed.

I walked home with a crystal clear idea of what I should do today. I will be back tomorrow.

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