by Al Tauber, Stories from the Streets Co-Director
On a recent night, I was watching my phone tick away precious minutes as my Amtrak train crawled into Union Station. With seven minutes to catch my Metra train, I shot out the Amtrak doors as soon as the conductor stepped off. I sprinted through the bowels of Union Station, up the escalator to the street, down the two and a half blocks to Ogilvie Transportation Center, through the revolving door, up another escalator, down to the last track, and onto my train—with two minutes to spare!
As I sat in my seat shedding layers of clothing, I wondered why I felt so bad after such a short run. Three to four miles is usually a comfortable distance for me. I looked at the overstuffed weekend bag I had carried over my shoulder with a new appreciation for the ROTC students I had seen running with huge packs on earlier that day.
I also understand so much better the words that one of our men, Bill, said to me in a recent phone conversation:
“I am bearing down. I have a race to run, and I don’t want to run it with the baggage I have been carrying for so much of my life. God is liberating me. I don’t need to carry that baggage anymore.”