Jesus Wash Me
One of the great things about unstructured running is quickly changing plans on a whim or an invitation. I woke early Friday morning to the foreign sound of pitter patter and discovered it was raining. I quickly threw on shorts, shirt and a cap and headed out to run in the rain, with the bonus being it was still warm – 67 degrees F.
While dodging the biggest puddles, I thought of the guy that comes to our work site each Friday to detail cars. We have this great deal where you leave your car key and check (plus tip!) at the front desk and Jesus will make sure your car's shiny and clean-smelling by the end of the day. Because it rarely rains around here, cars get dusty very quickly. And in our large lot, certain car owners get gently reminded to take advantage of the mobile car service. I often wonder what people driving around Carmel Valley on Fridays must think when they pass a dirty Saturn or VW where someone’s finger-written “Jesus Wash Me” in the back window.
That rainy run anchored me for the rest of the day. I turned down the free bagels on Bagel Friday, satisfied with my two hard-boiled eggs and the looser feel of my jeans. I knocked off so many items on my to-do list that I had time to help a friend finish his project during lunch and ungrudgingly stayed late to prevent another from working over the weekend. It rained all day, so Jesus did not come to clean our cars. Still, there was something almost spiritual about that run and the rain and the way it cleansed us all.
While dodging the biggest puddles, I thought of the guy that comes to our work site each Friday to detail cars. We have this great deal where you leave your car key and check (plus tip!) at the front desk and Jesus will make sure your car's shiny and clean-smelling by the end of the day. Because it rarely rains around here, cars get dusty very quickly. And in our large lot, certain car owners get gently reminded to take advantage of the mobile car service. I often wonder what people driving around Carmel Valley on Fridays must think when they pass a dirty Saturn or VW where someone’s finger-written “Jesus Wash Me” in the back window.
That rainy run anchored me for the rest of the day. I turned down the free bagels on Bagel Friday, satisfied with my two hard-boiled eggs and the looser feel of my jeans. I knocked off so many items on my to-do list that I had time to help a friend finish his project during lunch and ungrudgingly stayed late to prevent another from working over the weekend. It rained all day, so Jesus did not come to clean our cars. Still, there was something almost spiritual about that run and the rain and the way it cleansed us all.
