The Race We Call "Life"

All of my posts as of late seem to have an underlying tone of sentiment and emotion for one reason or another, and I'm afraid this one is no different. I'm not sure why, really.  I guess as I think about it, I'm realizing the point I am at in my life.  I'm now 34, with 4 children, a husband, a mortgage, responsibilities as a daughter/granddaughter, church calling, friend, etc. and changes coming faster than I can handle.  My kids are growing up.  Austin has a tooth with a few other bumps ready to burst, and is trying to work his hands and knees just the right way so he can take off crawling.  Julia will start Kindergarten in July and has been accepted into the Chinese Immersion program, which means by the time she is in 6th grade, she will be fluently speaking that language as well.  Ty will be a 5th grader, and Garrett will start Jr. High. 

Trav's sisters talked him into running Ragnar this June, so as part of their training, they've been signing up for a few 5k run's here and there.  Somehow, my guilty conscience wouldn't just let me sit on the couch and watch them do all the running, so the kids and I have joined in as well.  I have actually been quite surprised I have liked doing them because - I HATE running.  Strong word.....but it's true.  I've hated it since Jr. High.  Back in the days of gym class, I had to carry an inhaler when we'd have to run the mile.  I'm pretty sure I'm allergic to running!  It makes my body itch and my chest tight, and now after having the kids......other symptoms have occurred  - if you catch my drift!  So, I've always avoided it where possible.  I'm pretty positive I can walk faster than I can run.  A month and a half ago, we did our first 5k as a family.  I borrowed Heather's side by side double stroller and at the sound of the horn, found myself walking as fast as I could while pushing an extra 65 lbs.  It killed me, I must admit.  I wanted to get a good time, and worked as hard as I could to do so.  I was pretty proud of myself for doing it in 45 mins.  Crossing that line felt like a huge accomplishment.  Last Saturday we did another race.  This time, I was determined to beat the 45 min. time, but found that So. Ogden on the East bench is not where I would do so.  There were some good hills and again, I was pushing the extra weight!  I had been watching the time on my phone and thought I was behind by about 10 mins.  I was a little discouraged and so I picked up my feet and started to run, hoping to gain back a little time.  I got to a point where I could hear people cheering and figured I must be close, but turns out it was a few more bends around the road.  As I got closer to the crowd of cheering people, I was quickly able to pick out my family in the crowd. Trav was shooting some pictures of me as I ran towards the finish line, and Ty was cheering for me as well.  But the moment that sticks out in my mind, was Garrett coming back to run by my side as I made my way closer and closer yelling, "Nice job Mom!!  You got this!!!  Way to go Mom!!"  Little did he know, that sent chills up my spine,  brought tears to my eyes and gave me a little extra spring in my step!

  

 As I ran across the finish line, I saw the huge numbers ticking.........46:24.  I wasn't 10 mins. behind!! With a harder course and a little more of a struggle, I was almost at the same time as before!

 

 A while ago, while I was tucking Julia into bed, she asked me to tell her a story.  I didn't really feel like reading one from a book, so before I knew it, I was telling her the story of a boy and a girl who met at a missionary homecoming.  Her face lit up within the first few minutes of the story when she realized it was about her Mom and Dad.  The next night she wanted a continuation of that story.....so she heard all about their marriage and the first baby.  Each day she would tell me how excited she was to hear that nights story, especially the part about when that boy and girl had their 1st and only daughter!  By the end of the week, I was caught up to our current situation, and didn't have much else to tell.  Next thing I knew, I had my childhood journal out, reading portions of that to her each night.

 

  

That led to us getting her a journal that we are now writing in a few times a week as she tells of her day and the happenings in her life while I write it down.

All of this has had me thinking. Each day, every one of us run a race.  At times, the course is hard.  Loaded with hills and extra weight we have to carry.  Change comes, making it sometimes hard to breathe.  We battle with the ability to make it.  We compete to stay ahead and do what it takes to finish strong.  It's hard.  At times, it feels long and more than we can take.  The end result however, if anything like a true race, has got to be a huge adrenaline rush with those here on Earth and those on the other side cheering us on.

As I read to my daughter about the things I have done and am doing now in my life, and as she makes a record of hers, I can only hope that I am doing those things and being that kind of person that all of my children can look up to and follow as they run their own races in this life 

that lead to that final finish line -  back Home.