Of Watercolor Skies, Grassy Fields, & an Unusual Prayer

About a year ago, I prayed some words that I never expected to come from my heart.

God, I’m not sure if I’m meant to keep running and… If I shouldn’t quit, just give me a sign somehow.

It was the summer after eighth grade. There had been the hip injury and the anemia. Then I ran to the top of a mountain, only to injure my heel on the way back down.

After some time of rest and ice, I went to my neighborhood park to try running again. A sharp pain shot through my heel with the first stride.

I couldn’t do it.

Not even a few steps.

That was what brought me to that silent prayer on the walk back home, on that ever-so-familiar sidewalk. After every challenge, it seemed that something else would drag me to the same place.

I couldn’t do it.

And maybe I’m not meant to do it, I thought. Maybe running wasn’t meant for me.

I had quit swim team just a few months before, and I began to think that maybe…

Maybe running had to go, too.

All the pain and all the stress—Was it even worth it anymore? Had this sport become too much of an obsession?

I had never imagined thinking that, but I couldn’t get the idea out of my thoughts. And since prayer had become a bigger part of my life, I asked God for a sign if I should keep going.

Just a few days later, I got my “sign.”

Even with the foot problems, I went to practice on Thursday afternoon. I hadn’t planned on running that day, but I remember looking at the grass stretched out before me, with the summer sun illuminating each blade, and thinking…

What if I took a few steps?

Just a few steps.

And to my surprise, I found that I could jog around that grassy field with minimal pain. My unused legs wobbled, the soil smelled fresh, the sky looked clear.

It was a small thing, really. Ten minutes of jogging.

But to me, it means a lot more than that. I think of this moment whenever I’m in pain, whenever I wonder if I should just quit, whenever I wonder if there’s any purpose behind it all…

Because it’s my sign.

I had asked for it, and though it was simple, it felt like a little miracle.

Rediscovering joy

When I was injured last summer, I went back to the pool.

Before that, one memory had stayed in my mind: That day at practice when I felt so weak that I could barely pull myself out of the pool and onto the diving block. That day at practice when I felt like such a disappointment.

After that day, I had never gone back.

Until the heel injury. I went to the local pool and swam some laps. The water felt cool upon my skin. It felt so refreshing to go through the strokes again, from one end to the other, kicking to my heart’s content.

And it made me remember how I treasured those evenings of swimming backstroke under a watercolor sky. Looking up at the pink and orange hues, pushing the water down in swift strokes and letting it splash in my face. Feeling a sense of joy deeper than just going fast or feeling strong.

I had once loved this sport, too.

I’ve loved running, and I’ve dreaded it. I’ve been on the top, and I’ve been dead last. It’s brought me literal blood, sweat, and tears…

But it’s also brought me so much joy. So much joy that I had forgotten about.

I was right about one thing: Running had grown to be too much of an obsession, to the point where I had lost all joy in doing it (and injured myself in the process). And that had to change.

I could only bear the stress, pain, and pressure for so long. So I had convinced myself that quitting would be the only way to free myself from it.

I was wrong.

I’ve since learned that having an identity in Christ alone sets me free.

And I guess I first discovered that when I saw the sky, painted a soft pink, each morning on the little mountain road at last year’s summer camp.

Sometimes I still struggle with the stress, the pressure, and the pain. I have days when I go down the same spiral, wondering why I still run to see the watercolor sunrise or feel the soft grass beneath my feet.

But then I think back on my unusual prayer and the moments that followed, and I see the blessings that have sprouted from my steps.

It inspires me to keep taking more steps.

Seeing the world differently

Somehow my desperate little prayer filled me with a new sense of appreciation for the world.

I’ll always remember my first real run after that heel injury. Just running circles around my neighborhood’s grassy field, my heart swelling with this abundance of joy and peace…

I think I was smiling the whole time.

And I thought to myself, You got through this, and now you have a comeback story to tell.

You can leave this injury and that iron deficiency and your anxiety behind you now.

Because this is a new season, with a fresh start.

When I looked up at the watercolor sky, I knew that it was true.

And it reminds me of that quote from Eric Liddell: “When I run, I feel His pleasure.”

It made me realize that, when you experience the freedom in Christ, you also experience His joy. Joy that will inspire you to keep taking more steps.

And as I headed home, I watched the asphalt road glitter in the golden of the sunset. It seemed to glitter with hope.

It’s been nearly a year since then, and I still love feeling the soft grass beneath my feet. I still look up at the watercolor skies as the sun rises or sets.

And I still say my unusual little prayers—I’ve found that they can guide you in some beautiful little ways.

So now I want to ask you, my readers: What brings you joy? I would love to see your answers in the comments below! <3