The Finisher

Wayne and I have a phrase of encouragement that we share with each other:  "Someday this will be in the rear-view mirror."  Hard things will pass, and we will put them behind us.  Sometimes that takes weeks or even years to gain the hindsight.  Gratefully, some things pass by more quickly.  Our recent experience with Peter's scary race was one of those things.

We gathered this morning with Peter's cross country team and 103 other high school teams for a race on a beautiful but difficult course at the Oatlands Plantation in Leesburg, VA.  After warming up and sampling the course, Peter thought he would not be able to run this race today. His leg hurt, and the memories of his previous heat stroke and hospitalization were heavily on his mind (and on mine, too.) His wise coach encouraged him to just try. He said, "Just start it, and if you can't make it, then turn around and come back."  That was good counsel.  If you have to turn around and come back, you might just as well keep going.  Nobody wants to make a demoralizing 180 degree turn on a race course.

With prayers from his parents, teammates, and self, he exerted strong faith, and lots of grit and determination.  Peter ran the whole race on a very tough course. All of the anxiety tears that I had choked back 2 weeks ago changed to gratitude tears and found their way out today when he crossed the finish line. Now he has more confidence that he can do it, and he has a literal track record to prove it.

Whew.  Our ambulance ride is just a memory in the rearview mirror.  Here's a photo of our runner crossing the finish line because he did not turn back.

Where to Begin

It’s hard to know where to start to describe a weekend so full of fear, blessings, and reflections. Sometimes life events come upon us unforeseen and unbidden. Those are the times when faith, family, and friends help us overcome challenges that would be ever so much worse to face alone. To understand the fear part, imagine watching a high school cross country race on a warm morning about 60 miles from home. You cheer on your son as he passes the 2 mile mark in a 5K race. He is smiling and keeping up his usual spot in the front half of the group. You stand at the finish line and watch the runners come in. The first half passes, and you wonder why you did not see your son. Most of the runners come in, and you think maybe he finished in a big pack of kids, and you missed seeing him. The last stragglers cross the finish line, and your son is not among them. Surely he is at the finish line congratulating his teammates. But, the panic nags you that he might be up there on the hill, injured somewhere on the course. You start running up the big hill, joined by event staff and worried teammates. Yes, there is a runner down, and you know he’s yours. 

He’s unconscious on the ground. Folks are trying to cool and revive him. You hurry off to a hospital in an ambulance and hear an emergency room physician telling you many frightening possibilities. You watch your healthy young son lay unresponsive and then awake to writhe in pain from awful medical procedures. After several hours, you watch him drive off in yet another ambulance to a bigger, better equipped hospital. You follow behind for 60 miles of anguished fear. 

So, just where were the blessings in all of this? To start, both Wayne and I were at the cross country meet. Peter has run in many events, and this was the first time we have attended a meet together. I can’t imagine how the day would have been if we had not been on the scene. While we were still on the course, Peter’s teammates gathered around and formed a prayer circle. These wonderful kids joined their faith and offered up their prayers for aid. Wayne and I will never forget that sight, and our gratitude to them will never fade. Although we were 60 miles from home, my dearest friend, Gail, and her husband found their way to the hospital to provide much needed and appreciated hugs and food. Our daughter and son-in-law, Cindy and Mario, drove many miles to arrive at the second hospital ahead of us and in time to greet Peter at his arrival with a huge comforting soft teddy bear. They supported me and drove me home and stayed the night with me in our very dark house, where a big storm had cut the electrical power. 

Although the first hospital gave needed and immediate relief and treatment, it was the second hospital that provided the calm and experienced judgment of pediatric specialists who frequently treat kids’ athletic and heat stroke related injuries and could keep a level head as to exactly which tests and treatments were needed. I was filled with gratitude for the competent doctors we met who had studied and prepared themselves to calmly offer skilled care. Before long, our runner, Peter, was talking and joking and looking forward to a return to school and sports and friends. His buddy was soon at his bedside offering the best medicine that only a seventeen year old “bro’-ski” can provide. 

I’m very tired, having only been back at home for a few hours, but I reflect on how my prayers were answered and how people who could help us were put in our path. I am grateful for God who whispers peace to my heart and assurance that He loves me and my son. I’m thankful for my husband, who was at my side when I needed him and at our son’s bedside all night long. I’m in awe at the delicate balance that our bodies need to function properly under stress. It is humbling to see the devastation when simple fluids and rest are inadequate, and physical demand is too great. I don’t want to have this experience ever again, but as I lived it, I was never alone. All is well, and we will sleep much better tonight.

Deep Down Gratitude

It has been a long time since I have taken the time to write. That doesn't mean I have not had times of joy and many moments of joyful thoughts. I'm pretty good at pondering, but I've been slow to compose my thoughts. 

This thought has been on my mind for the past couple of years, and I have often repeated it to my family. "To have wealth, one must have two things - charity and gratitude. You must be grateful for what you have, and you must be willing to share it generously and without expectation of a return." I could write on this topic all day and expound on my personal economic policy. Fear not, I will spare you this time. What I want to reflect upon today is profound gratitude. 

Recently, we had a very pleasant trip to New York. We enjoyed visiting with our family and friends whom we dearly love. We stayed in a local hotel. In fact, it was the very hotel where I worked for several years as a maid during high school and college. That was 35 years ago when I learned for myself how hard it is to clean bathrooms and make up a couple hundred beds in one day. I also worked there in the laundry and folded so many sheets and towels that I would daily wear off the skin on the palms of my hands. It was very hard work, even for a young energetic body. I don't think there was a minute when I enjoyed it, but I knew that if I were to return to college each fall, I would need to do this back breaking work. I was grateful for the employment, and I remember that I earned the minimum wage of $2.37 per hour. 

Well, on this recent trip, I recognized a familiar face at the hotel. One of the maids who worked with me in 1977, is still working there today. She has recently advanced to the position of head housekeeper, but for about 35 years, she has continuously performed the tasks that I remember as being so hard. While I was earning a BS degree in music education, she was cleaning. As I earned an MA degree in music performance, she was cleaning. While I moved to Virginia and reared five children and enjoyed teaching hundreds of music students, she was cleaning. A huge volume of water has passed under my bridge of life in the past 35 years. Through it all, she was cleaning and then coming home exhausted to her own home and children. Her face looks much older and more careworn. She was happy to see me, and she asked if there was anything that I needed for my hotel room. I had to choke back my tears as I thanked her and refused her kind offer to serve me. 

This is not a treatise on who should have to work and for how long, nor is it an attempt to cast pity. It is a deep heartfelt thank you for the opportunities that have blessed me these last 35 years. I am profoundly grateful for my education, the sacrifices of my parents, the devoted care of my husband, the support of my friends, and the many experiences I have had to spread my wings and achieve my dreams. To my housekeeper colleague, I salute you. To my God and Protector, I most humbly thank Thee. Without consideration of any financial sums, which, in my book, is never an indicator of wealth, I feel abundantly blessed and eager to share. May you feel similarly.

2 Songs

Written on June 15, 2010

While I'm still sweating from today's walk in very humid Virginia, I will pause to write about a joy I have several times each week.  I work out at the gym and pool on M, W, and F.  On T, Th, and Sat., I walk the streets of Greenbriar, sometimes with Gail, sometimes with my I-pod.  When I walk alone, I always start and end with the same 2 songs, and they always bring me joy.  Here they are:  I leave the house with Helen Reddy, singing "I am Woman."  No, it's not the feminist message that brings me joy, but the confidence that I can accomplish hard things.  These last 2 years have been quite a journey for me. The piece I end my walks with is even better, "The Promise of Living," from The Tender Land by Aaron Copland.  The music is wonderful, but the words are even more so 

"The promise of living with faith and thanksgiving is born of our loving our friends and our labors."  

If I were clever enough, I'd post the music here for you.  (here you go mom!) I can't hear it too often.  I feel gratitude and rededication every time I hear it.  Yes, I feel joy every time, joy that life is rich for me and has the promise of lasting forever.