By Michelle (Graceful, Faith in the Everyday)
The sun beams warmth even as the wind whips straight through fleece and long sleeves and windbreakers as we stand on the curb, arms crossed tight, shoulders hunched, hoods cinched.
Rowan takes his place toward the back of the pack, green number pinned squarely to the front of his tee shirt. Hands over ears as the gun cracks loud, they shuffle and stumble and then finally break into a jog. The front runners sprint, stampeding like a herd of wild mustangs, and it’s nothing short of a miracle that no one gets trampled as the pack thunders by, hundreds of kindergarteners bent on finishing first.
Brad and Rowan pace themselves, sticking to the strategy they’d formulated earlier that morning. “We start slowly at the back,” Brad advised, “and then when the runners start to tire, we pick them off one by one, passing the ones that started out of the gate too fast.” Rowan had nodded solemnly, a good plan.
The crowd lines the mile course around the Capitol building, and as Noah and I cheer for runner after runner, I realize that this is what counts, this rallying, this hurrah, these whoops of encouragement. It may look like an individual’s race…but it’s not.
I get this. Sometimes it’s this one last push that places my fingers on the keyboard. Just when I think, “Perhaps not,” or “I’m tired,” or “I’d rather watch House Hunters,” suddenly there is the unexpected high-five: the email in my in-box from Amy or Kendal, Jennifer or Deidra, Jim or Bonnie, LaVon or David. The lady in the purple polyester suit who leans close in the pew and whispers quiet thanks for the devotions. The co-worker, the one whose name I can’t remember, who stops me in the stairwell to say he appreciated Saturday’s newspaper column. These are the people who line the street, the ones who shout, “Yes you can!”
A dad huffs weary and smiles thanks as I shout from the curb. A mom grins lopsided and sheepish, half-dragging a red-faced, freckled kid who’s clearly having second thoughts. From all sides of the street words carry the runners onward: “You can do it!” “You’re almost there!” “The finish is just around the corner!” A grandmother snaps a camera, high-fives a little girl with blond pigtails. A boy in very last place pushes a walker against the stiff wind, one halting step at a time.
The crowd roars.
Who is your cheering crowd? And how have they gotten you through a challenge?
Michelle is a Christian wife and mother of two originally from Massachusetts now living in Nebraska. She is a part-time writer, editor and fundraiser for Nebraska PBS/NPR. Michelle loves to write about how her family illuminates God's presence in her everyday life, and on finding (and keeping) faith in the everyday. Michelle enjoys reading, running and writing. Be sure to go visit her blog, Graceful, Faith in the Everyday.