Running

"...Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus."



I keep coming back to this as a source of purpose in my work as a temporary single mother right now. I'm just running the race. Sometimes that's all I can point to when I look for a reason behind the things I'm charged with each day. And I've trained for races before, so I know the runners' analogy by heart.

Here is my marathon:

I wipe noses during what will be half-a-dozen colds that my children will just have to get through this season. I pick up toys and bits of food from the floor all day, knowing someone, in another room of the house is dragging something else out to be collected and stored later on. I plan lessons to help L understand the big world around her, knowing she's 3 and will forget much of what we talked about by the time she starts Kindergarten. I dry tears and sing lullabies only to have to do that all again an hour later when the next meltdown ensues. And the prize isn't always in sight. No one is here at the beginning, middle or end of each day to pat me on the back ... to admire what I taught L to do with glue and scissors that day ... to say the house looks great ... to taste more than two toddler-sized bites of the dinner I prepared with love and creativity.

And so I return daily to scripture -- to the race analogy that Paul used in Philippians. I'm not always going to get a prize after every great thing I think I'm doing -- no praise or nod of appreciation is ever enough to really keep me going through every monotonous detail anyway -- so my task is finding satisfaction in running a good race. Setting a goal. Running hard. Feeling satisfying drops of sweat collect on my brow. Sucking in enough air to fill my lungs and push my body further. Feeling my feet push firmly off the pavement. Springing forward to see what's around the next corner. I don't see a finish line in sight. I know it's there, but I don't need to know what's waiting for me. The road is enough. The pleasing weariness I find in knowing that I'm making good time and I'm doing all of this because it's what I'm supposed to be doing. For now, for me, the race is enough.