Step right up. Two steps forward, one step back. High stepping. Take the first step. A step too far. The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. Texas two step. One small step for a man. Baby steps. Step lightly. Step by step.
Each day is a journey of steps. Each sunrise, if we’re lucky, we rise, stretch, and start our daily steps, absently placing one foot in front of the other. There are mornings it’s more difficult than others, especially in these uncertain times. But yet, each day brings us one step closer to wherever it is we’re supposed to be in this life.
As a parent, we remember those beautiful first steps of our babies. We encourage them and we cheer them on and before you know it, vertical is the norm and horizontal is but a memory. Each step is so important as they learn and grow.
Having triplets, you unwittingly measure one against the other. One of my boys walked months before his brother and sister. I cried to the pedi something must be very wrong with the other two. He reassured me my son didn’t realize he was a premature baby and shouldn’t be doing that yet. The other two were fine. They each had their own steps timetable.
So do we.
For those of us that like to plan and schedule, steps are crucial. Not knowing the number of steps needed is tough.
I do count steps sometimes. In my home, I know from upstairs to downstairs there are thirteen steps. That assurance is my compass when I head downstairs with my hands full.
Did Elvis count the steps from the living room foyer to the upstairs landing? Did he know how many steps there were from the main floor to the tv room or pool room? Did he step quietly down the hall to peek in on his baby girl as she slept? How often did he step over to his bedroom window and look down the drive toward the gate and beyond.
From the famous musical note adorned front gates of Graceland, up the right side of the drive to the reverent and solemnly peaceful Meditation Garden is 1,712 steps. I know because I carefully counted each one last summer in the muggy sweltering evening heat. I don’t know why I did, but I did. I was filled with sentimental and emotional thoughts so maybe it was simply a distraction as I headed toward his resting place.
I thought about those very calculated deliberate steps as I slowly paced myself, listening to the rhythm of the cicadas urging me on, sweat dripping down my back. I wondered how often Elvis meandered those same 1,712 steps, heading down to the gates to chat with those hoping to catch a glimpse.
Surely he never counted them like I did. Or did he?
Step carefully. Think about your steps. The numbers count in more ways than one.
And the next step is love …