I started seeing the sidewalk hearts a few years ago. Hearts splattered there in motor oil, tar, in bird droppings, paint, mud, or water - the media of urban outdoor art. These “accidents” of debris, not formed by any human artist, lay there awaiting my acknowledgment as I jogged over the familiar sidewalks, driveways, and parking lots on my route. Unmistakable, though…hearts.
Probably I would not have noticed them if I didn’t keep my head down while I jog, but that is what I do – run along with eyes lowered while considering my life, my challenges, my issues. And blessed coincidence, there they are! Those happy little symbols of love. There to remind me that although I have my difficulties, I also have love - the love of a Master Artist who paints a picture of the world and my place in it. The picture I see can seem thrown together with grime and grease and garbage, but sometimes perfectly fashioned of dew-covered flower petals and young leaves.
My running time is solitary – I prefer it that way. But the hearts remind me that I am never really alone, that I am protected and loved every moment.
And now I look for the hearts when I run. I know they’ll be there. Those tiny signatures of God help me stay strong as the miles grow behind me, and long roads lay before me.
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