Waiting For My New Blessing

I have been injured for most of this year. Can't remember the last time I ran without at least some pain. Running once was my passion, my get-away zone, my freedom-feeling time. But now it has been reduced to something to be endured. Once a good friend; now, often feels like and overwhelming enemy. Yesterday photos of me running have been taken down from my wall. I just don't want to remember; just don't want to go there. It breaks my heart to see photos of others striding out. I would so love to do that again. Yes, I appreciated that ability when I had it, but not nearly as much as I would appreciate it now if I had back.

Life is like that too. Amazing how endurance sports easily becomes a metaphor for life. Blessings come into our lives, stay awhile, then they are gone, no matter how much we want them to stay. But, life resupplies. The empty space left by the departure of one blessing, can be filled with another one. God is faithful. Who knows how this will flesh out? Who knows how that empty spot of present heartache will be filled. Adventure can be right there on the dawning of the new day. So, I wait patiently, expectantly, hopefully, and prayerfully for my new blessing, or my new quest, or the restoration of the old blessing I love so much and so long.

"You Made My Day"

"I hope I can be doing this when I am your age." That is something I get all the time when I am being passed on the run of a triathlon. Perhaps, it is inspiring? Perhaps it is a testament to the fruits of long-term perseverance? Perhaps seeing some old dinosaur plugging along at turtle's pace lifts the spirit and brightens the hopes of others? Perhaps, it helps make their day.

The other night I visited my 99 year old mother in the nursing home. Upon leaving, as we hugged, she patted me on the back and told me she was so glad I came. "You made my day." What a great thing to consider that my meager love offering of time could make someone's day. My, what power for good, for engendering hope must we possess to make another's day better. Yet, how many days in the lives of others have I left unmade. How many times have I neglectful, consumed with my own race; making my own day; my own ego? How many opportunities to impact for good have I squandered? I pray that at the end of it all, I will have made more days in the lives of others than I have neglected.

Service is the virtue that distinguished the great of all times and which they will be remembered by. It places a make of nobility upon its disciples. It is the dividing line which separates the two great groups of the world—those who help and those who hinder, those who lift and those who lean, those who contribute and those who only consume. How much better it is to give than to receive. Service in any form is comely and beautiful. To give encouragement, to impart sympathy, to show interest, to banish fear, to build self confidence and to awaken hope in the hearts of others, in short –to love them and to show it---is to render the most precious service.
Bryant S. Hinckley

Again Trusting

It seems I have been injured all year. Looking back over my log and journal, there aren't many painless days. This blog spikes with one resolution to continue after another. Sometimes, I really wonder. Sometimes, I fade in my faith. But, all times thus far, I have pulled up, found the faith, the trust to continue. It has been worth it. Even the bad workout have been good. Even the pain and disappointment have become an endurance effort of their own, like a big hill in every workout.

I know not what lies ahead in the fruition of my efforts. Four complete days off from training did absolutely no good at all. Stuff still hurts. Time to just move on into the half-light of my future capabilities...again, today---trusting.