I’d throw on my shoes and run up my rocky drive-way, past the basketball goal I’d worn out from free-throw practice over the years. She met me just past the pond at the bottom of the hill and we walked to the highway and back. We did this almost daily in the long summers of childhood…..weekly at least during school.
It didn’t matter if we’d seen each other at school that day. And over the years, our “groups” of friends changed. Kids would be surprised to know we were like sisters – but we didn’t care. We just kept walking.
It was our consistent thing. A place we could go and just be ourselves. It didn’t matter what we said. Some days, it was like dropping the weight of the world in a bucket, readying my spirit for the next day.
There’s something about the sole of your shoe hitting the road and your mind finding this open space to talk. There’s a freeing wind, really, pushing you forward. Anybody who can get me in these moments knows I can be really quiet until I get really passionate.
It was years ago when I first heard of prayer walking. Just like opening up with a friend, it can take time to sprout. But when it does, something happens – or should I say breaks open.
There seems to be this tension sometimes in prayer. This emptiness – this over-trying. I compare it to getting stuck in writing. They say those with writer’s block need to get moving – physically.
What if that’s what we all need to break the block of prayer?
Have you taken a walk lately? Might you try it today and find the courage to take some deep breaths….before whispering, “Hello, God. I’m here.”