My five year old woke up this morning at 5 AM and ate breakfast with me and her Dad. That is so unusual. I kept trying to get her back to sleep again. At 5:45, I gave up and invited her to go running with me.
We tied up our sneakers on the front stoop to avoid waking up the baby.
"We going running for Boston today," I told her.
"Why is that?" she asked.
I sucked in my breath. I hadn't told them about the terrorist attack at the Boston Marathon. I found out via Facebook a few moments before Jon came home from work. I'd already finished dinner and the kids were setting the table. He didn't want to talk about it in front of the kids, so I closed my computer and went into dinner. It felt a little strange, like play acting, to eat dinner like nothing had happened. Yet it also felt right. I'm still doing my life as normal terrorists! My best fighting weapon is to fed and nurture and love my little family.
This morning, I finished kissing my husband before he commutes to work outside of Washington DC. As an afterthought, I tapped on his car window. "Do we have a plan in case something happens today? I know it won't, but if you couldn't call me, who would you call?" We talked a little and Jon told me "You stay here. Don't go anywhere. I'll move heaven and earth to get home." I teased him that it takes a special family to make "Jesus, I trust in you" their actual emergency preparedness plan.
When my five year asked me "Why are we running today?" I was silent for a while. Then I told her "Because the bad guys hurt us yesterday." I didn't have anymore words for her.
She didn't care. She loved the feel of her tennis shoes with pink glitter on the edges. She ran down the walkway in a rush to get to the sidewalk.
My girl was dressed head to toe in pink and her pinkish red hair was flowing behind her. She was so happy to be moving. "She's a runner," I thought. Then I surprised myself by thinking: "We both are."
Today, I ran with joy around my block, completed a single Hill Sprint and said one Hail Mary at the finish for Boston with my five year old. It's little. In running terms, its next to pathetic. But it is everything in the spiritual life.