Skip to main content

My Strength and My Song

I never could have predicted how I would feel at the end of this marathon training.

My heart is full of gratitude as I attempt to savor these last two days.  I am surprised at how much it feels like coming to the end of pregnancy.
When it really comes down to the end, you start to realize what a privilege it has been.
You reminisce about all the extremely difficult times, and also the overwhelmingly joyful ones.  It is a surreal feeling as you know in a matter of days it will all be over.  All those months of hard work and all those years of dreaming-- will be crowning in achievement, and then over in a few short days.
There is a tinge of sadness, almost like parting from an old friend.  One who walked with you as you became someone new.
You wonder what adventures life holds for you after the labor is through.
There is a sense of humility and longing for peace as you know that the last piece of the process is the most difficult yet.  You have never run that far-- and as much as you hope that all will go as planned, truly you have no idea.

However, you have learned to roll with the punches.
You know through this experience that God will give you the best thing for you-- every time. Through the setbacks, heartaches and great pain you know there is a greater plan.  And so you choose to trust and let go of fear.
You are in awe at all that you have learned.  The over-arching lesson has been this:
As much as you would like to think that you are supported and upheld by other people- in the end it is really only God and you.
Just as in labor, you so badly want your loved ones to help you through the unrest.  And, just as in labor, in the end you must pass through it alone.  Calling upon God for strength, and no one else.  Other people- all other people- have their own lives they are living.  Drawing your strength from people is not dependable. For they are human too, and cannot be all that you need.  But God however, God is dependable.  He is constant- the only true constant you will ever know.  To your loneliest places and back, he has walked it all with you.  Because of that, you love him more deeply than you ever have before.  He has truly become your strength and your song.

This morning I will run a simple two miles.  I'm leaving my phone home this time.  No music or books to distract me-- I want to be present through every step.  With God by my side, I want to savor these last moments.

Hoping it will be a long 17 minutes... I have a whole lot of singing to do.

Comments

  1. A whole marathon Laurisa? Awesome! When sage is a toddler, I'm planning on just one and the rest of my running career just fun races.
    It was and still is a hard but so amazing lesson to learn that it always comes down to you and God. How else are we going to remember our love for Him and His love for us. Keep it up Laurisa - love the writing.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

What is it all For? (our musical journey)

In the nine years since I became a mother, I have often pondered the purpose of music in our mortal experience. In observing each of my children, it was apparent within the first few weeks of life that each newborn understood the language of music. Music calms and soothes them. Music enlivens and liberates them. Children and adults of all ages naturally connect with music, and express themselves through it.  We are all excited, liberated, and calmed by it. As a preschooler, Holden was especially drawn to musical notes, and began composing original melodies at three years old. When he was four years old he begged me to teach him how to play the piano. We began the beginner books together, and he LOVED it! As his abilities grew and his love for the instrument blossomed, and I began feeling pressure to find him a "real" teacher. After a highly recommended referral, we hired a young college student who was studying music at the university to come to our house once a week to t...

The Loss Is Not So Great

It is better as it is: I have failed but I can sleep; Though the pit I now am in is very dark and deep I can walk tomorrow's streets and can meet tomorrow's men Unashamed to face their gaze as I go to work again. I have lost the hope I had; in the dust are all my dreams, But my loss is not so great or so dreadful as it seems; I made my fight and though I failed I need not slink away For I do not have to fear what another man may say. They may call me over-bold, they may say that I was frail; They may tell I dared too much and was doomed at last to fail; They may talk my battle o'er and discuss it as they choose, But I did no brother wrong-- I'm the only one to lose. It is better as it is: I have kept my self-respect. I can walk tomorrow's streets meeting all men head erect. No man can charge his loss to a pledge I did not keep; I have no shame to regret: I have failed, but I can sleep. -Edgar A. Guest "The Loss Is Not So Great" When Day Is Done

She Who Walks Down My Street

From the place where I'm sitting, I hear her cane thumping long before she's in sight. I'm feeling busied, hurried, tired from many commitments in my day. I've sat down to rest but the sitting-still makes me feel antsy. I wish there were someone to sit-still with. I feel flustered about my kids being on their phones; so I pick up my phone and begin to scroll. I feel lonely, I feel mad. I wonder if I have the right to blame anyone but me. And then I hear the thumping. Thump, step, step. Thump, step, step. I instinctively lay my phone down as a salute of respect. She's walking. Just. Walking. She's not texting five people, watching a webinar, stressing about her teens on their phones, rotating laundry, feeling lost about running an organization, planning grocery lists for birthdays and campouts or endlessly wrestling with the state of her marriage. She's just walking. Thump, step, step. Thump, step, step. I can feel my breath moving in and out. My hands now em...