While walking a trail with my husband, two adolescent boys jogged toward us. The overweight young man in the lead was attempting to hold up his athletic shorts while maintaining his lumbering pace. Unbeknownst to this jogger, his BVDs were gloriously displayed in back.
Greatly amused, I diverted my energy into restraining the laughter ready to burst into bloom. I was fairly successful, I think, until the baggy-shorted young man panted past me. As his buddy was bringing up the rear (pun intended), he witnessed my contorted face crack like an egg. I giggled and guffawed over what probably only warranted a goofy smile and a knowing look to my hubby, as I poked him in the ribs.
I relate to this young man's dilemma. I have days when I'm plodding along, striving to just stay in the race. Unexpectedly, the elastic in my life gives way and leaves me clutching. Thankfully, no matter what the obstacle, I know that my walking buddy, Jesus, will pin up my sagging spirit and prod me along.
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