On the move.

Ever have those days that make you want to throw your hands up, walk away from everything familiar and set off — on foot — with a canteen, a tent, some walking shoes, snacks, a hat and jacket?

No destination comes to mind — anywhere open will do. No particular scenery is a must-have, with the exception of a place where millions of stars fill the sky and the moon is so bright that it casts moon shadows.

I’d welcome the blisters on my feet because they’d speak to progress that I’m making in at least one area of my life.

I’d happily greet a sunburn and bad tan lines because they’d indicate that I’m no longer stuck in one spot. I’m on the move.

I’d tip my hat to a bit of dirt behind my ears because it wouldn’t be a sign of complacency — it’s a sign of sweat and good old-fashioned grime built up from hoofing it, day in and day out.

I know I say that I’d welcome this or happily greet that if my life wasn’t what it is, but the truth is that I see all the talk for what it is: an escape. I know that whatever is in my real life is here for a reason, no matter how frustrating it might be.

It’s here for a lesson, to encourage my faith, to show me what I’m lacking or to shine a light on what I have in others.

Regardless of how often I’d like to fill a backpack and hit the road to so-called happiness and carefree bliss, I am thankful for the happiness that exists in my life today and as it is. It’s happiness like no other, and at the end of the day I don’t have to be on the move to know it’s there.

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