Many years ago I picked up Haruki Murakami’s book What I Talk About When I Talk About Running. I was intrigued by the title. Honestly . . . wouldn’t you be intrigued if you saw such a book on a shelf? Murakami ran a 62 mile ultramarathon in Japan. Intrigued yet? It took him 11 hours and 42 minutes. How ’bout now? He refused to walk. From morning until evening, he ran the entire race! Surely, by now ! ! ! ! Anyway, I was intrigued . . . that’s why I read the book.
I am awed by what the human body, the human mind, and human spirit are capable of. It makes me wonder how someone could doubt our Omnipotent Creator. But that’s for another day.
Murakami says of that race, “I doubt I’ll try it again, but who knows what the future may hold.” And then he writes “You have to wait until tomorrow to find out what tomorrow will bring.”
How often is the most simple, the most profound? My Tender Warrior once told me about something that had just finally made sense to him. He asked me: “When someone says it’s going to take three years to complete something, do you know how long it’s going to take? . . . (he chuckled) . . . It’s going to take three years.” And then acknowledging that no matter how much he’d like it to take three hours or three minutes, if it requires three years, it’s going to take three years. “You have to wait until tomorrow to find out what tomorrow will bring.” The most simple . . . the most profound.
And then, My Wide-Eyed Wonder (my lovey in Chicago that I told you about a while back) tells me, nurturing me as I worried about what tomorrow would bring in our college search for My Tiger Cub, “Mom, you are not looking for where God is and then sending her there. His Spirit dwells inside of her. And wherever she goes, He is there also.” “You have to wait until tomorrow to find out what tomorrow will bring.” The most simple . . . the most profound.
Out of the breath of babes! I am again reminded of what the human body, the human mind and the human spirit are capable of, and I am in awe. I am inspired by the endurance and simplicity of Murakami; the honesty and peacefulness of my Tender Warrior; and the listening heart and profound wisdom of my Wide-Eyed Wonder.
Perhaps Murakami’s words are not so original after all, for my conscience has just been nudged by these words, written way before Murakami’s time. “Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow; for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Let the day’s own trouble be sufficient for the day.” Matt. 6:34
The most simple . . . the most profound.
Relinquishing 