Racing in Him

I'm a runner.  Ok, so I'm kind of a wanna-be-runner, and I know this because of time spent in running stores.  A few months ago I bought a new pair of running shoes, and while checking out the various options, I asked the gentlemen who was assisting to show me the best pair of running shoes he had available.  So, he walked into the next aisle, picked up a pair shoes and said, "These."  Imagine angelic light shining down on the pair of shoes because that's exactly what it was like.  They were heavenly shoes.

So, after admiring the divine shoes, he asked me how many miles I get in during the week.  I told him.  And that's when he put down the golden shoes.  The light retracted and he said, "let's look over in this aisle."

Whatever.

It's at that point that I felt the need to throw out there one of my greatest accomplishments:  "I ran a marathon once."  And I said it with no reason to say it.  Maybe a part of me was figuring he would say, "What?!?  You're amazing.  How? When?  Where?" And then run back and grab the heavenly shoes.  But, he didn't.  He just smiled.

And then it was awkward.

So, regardless of whether or not I am a "real" runner in the eyes of the lord of the running store, I sure enjoy running.  And I'm not entirely sure why.

When it's hot, it's pretty miserable.  When it's freezing, it's pretty miserable.  There's usually something between my head and feet that aches before, during, or after the run, but there's just something about it.  Maybe it's the "runner's high" that I've heard about (though when I've described this "high" to others, I've been told that I can get the same sensation from eating Jelly Beans.  I kind of believe them).

I'm pretty competitive.  Um, maybe very competitive.  Ok, if I'm going to be honest, I'm extremely and ridiculously competitive.  As much as I love seeing my youngest excited when she wins something, I just can't bring myself to let her win any of the games we play together.  Yes, I know, she's only seven.  But still.

My son told me the other day how fast he could run a mile.  Yep.  We went outside and raced...and I won.  The problem was that I barely won.  Thus far I had been able to clean up shop on Shoots and Ladders, pool games, basketball games, and Clue, so this was too close a call.  Of course, my son wanted to race again.

And that's when it happened.  He beat me.  He beat me fair and square.  So, naturally I told him we were going to do it again.  And...he beat me...again.  He embraced the win like nothing I've ever seen.  He then wanted to have a competition in about ten different physical activities.  What ensued was a fierce battle that included:  1.  Who can balance on the exercise ball the longest 2.  Who can bounce on the exercise ball the longest without touching their legs to the ground 3.  Who can do the longest plank 4. Who can do the most pull ups, etcetera, etcetera, et...ridiculous...cetera.  

When he wanted to see who could eat the most cinnamon, I drew the preverbal line (though I made sure he knew I could eat far more than he ever could).

Where he gets this competitive nature, I will never know.

His winnings are proudly displayed with the smile that appears on his face every time we walk by the pull up bar together.  "Hey, Mom, want to try just oooone.  Just one, mom. Come on. Here, I'll show you how to do ten."  

Funny, Jrod.  Just hilarious.  And then we usually do a timed sit up contest.  Mom still rules in a few areas.

He decided a couple of weeks ago that he wanted to join a cross county and track team.  When I picked him up from his first practice, I asked him how it went.  While wiping his forehead, he said:  
"It was the intensest, super hardest and most ridiculously awesome thing I've ever done in my whole, entire life."

I have no idea where he gets his drama either.

But that's it.  That's totally it.  Running is so hard, but it's so rewarding.  There's an end goal that must be achieved and meeting that end goal, while passing others and beating your last time, of course, is indescribably...awesome.

I was reading Colossians the other day in preparation for our upcoming Bible study.  Colossians 2:6 and 7 stood out to me in a profound way:

Therefore, as you received  Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in him, rooted and built up in him and established in the faith, just as you were taught, abounding in thanksgiving.  

It's been a challenging couple of weeks caring for my mom who's been ill for several years now.  I was reminded when we saw a doctor yesterday of the rarity of her disease, and while we sat in the waiting room feeding her, I watched with deep sorrow as she could barely swallow the soft food given to her.  My mom, however, does not give up easily.  She mustered every bit of strength she could to do what needed to be done (my fierceness didn't come from no where).   But each time I lifted a bit of food to her mouth and heard her moan with frustration, I screamed inside: "Relieve her, God!"  And then this verse.

We're In Him.  Someone asked me recently if there are any medicines available to counteract the disease.  No.  There's not.  But, there's Grace.  We walk in Him through paths that are utterly confusing and painful, not beside him or behind him, but in Him.  That's the remedy.  I'm never left alone with my tears.  So, thanksgiving through tears.  Mom is never without Him in her suffering.  So, thanksgiving through the pain.

And walk. Don't forget to walk.  We're called to continue to move forward, and as a wanna-be-runner, I get it.  I get that in a race you never quit the course (especially if racing J-rod), I get that you keep moving forward even if it means spurts of walking...skipping, hopping...however you get to the end, you get there.  The gospel is there not only for conversion, it's there for us while we grow, wrestle, and move forward through this life - it's there every step of the way.  And it's grace that enables us to continue to move forward.  Like running, moving forward through a difficult journey in life can be intense and super hard, but what we're promised in the end is ridiculously awesome.  I believe that with my whole heart.

Grace enables me to lift food to mom's mouth and carry her to bed.  Grace gives her the perseverance to swallow when she can.  Grace gives her the strength to press on until the end.   And Jesus Himself will be waiting at the finish line.

But that won't be a surprise to mom.  She's been racing in Him all along.