Walk after dinner

The window is small. Ten or fifteen minutes after you finish eating, your body starts deciding what to do with the food. Sitting tells it one thing. Walking tells it another. Nobody needs a gym for this. You need shoes and a block.

The hard part is the handoff. Plate to couch is a reflex you've built over years. So break the reflex somewhere earlier. Shoes by the door before dinner. Jacket on the chair. Make the easy path the one that goes outside.

Ask your wife. Ask your kid. Ask the neighbor whose name you keep forgetting. People talk differently when they're walking side by side and nobody has to make eye contact. Things come out that would never come out across a table.

If nobody comes, go anyway. Twenty minutes alone with no podcast is not wasted time. Your head sorts itself out when your feet are busy.

Your body is not a rental car you're going to hand back wrecked. It's getting raised, right now, into something it isn't yet. So whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God (1 Corinthians 10:31). Paul wrote that about food. About the most ordinary, repeated, forgettable thing a man does three times a day.

Which means a walk around the block counts. Not because it's holy in itself, but because caring for the thing God is going to glorify is an act of respect toward the One doing the work. You don't neglect what's being restored. Go walk.

Sit with the hard kid. Go sit near the hardest person in your family for ten minutes with no agenda and no fix.

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Quit the sarcasm. Catch one sarcastic line before it leaves your mouth and say the plain sentence underneath it instead.

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