Walking Reflection: Where My Feet Are

Walking Reflection: Where My Feet Are

This morning, the world didn’t rush me.

It invited me.

The wind whispered as I stepped across the street.

A puddle caught me off guard, not in frustration but in awareness.

I looked up—

the sun was rising behind thin clouds,

and the moon still lingered in the sky as if reluctant to leave.

An oil spill shimmered on the asphalt,

not as waste,

but as a symbol.

Even the mess can reflect the light

if the light is real enough.

I used to walk with my head down.

Not in shame—just in habit.

Thinking too much. Replaying too much.

Dragging yesterday into today.

But something has changed.

Now I walk to remember.

To reconnect.

To realign my compass—not to what happened,

but to what’s happening now.

I breathe in.

I let the wind pass through me.

I listen to the birds, and I let their song rewrite mine.

I carry no defense—only peace.

Because when I’m walking in truth,

I don’t need to protect anything.

Sport taught me to be where my feet are.

And life has taught me that’s the only place love is.

From trampolines and bicycles,

to footballs spiraling through air,

to Bella rolling a bowling ball down a lane—

I’ve watched transformation happen through motion.

Growth through grace.

Learning through letting go.

The loops we walk in life are real.

The patterns. The stuck places. The same old thoughts.

But this morning, I felt myself step out.

Not away from life,

but into it.

A friend called.

Someone I love reached out.

And I remembered:

God doesn’t speak just through silence.

He also speaks through people.

This morning, I didn’t walk to fix anything.

I walked to remember what’s already true:

That nothing real can be threatened.

And nothing unreal exists.

I walked to give thanks for the grace that rises like the sun.

Not fast. Not loud. Just… there.

Enough.

So I keep walking.

I create.

I connect.

I contribute.

And as the sun rises higher, I do too.

Because this morning, I remembered:

All is well.

And it begins—

where my feet are.