Note: this was written a year ago.
I am weary, exhausted and overwhelmed. The children who constantly need refereeing; the looming mountain of school starting in a few weeks; the long rides to Philadelphia with Emily for appointments and surgery; Multiple Dr. visits with 4 out of my 5 children in the coming weeks. Andrew for his eye injury. Aaliyah to LCPC. Joseph for neurology. And of course, Emily with the submucosal CP. The never-ending work of the farm and garden (which I love), that does pile up sometimes.
It is the middle of a hot day; we finish lunch and I put the little girls down for quiet time. Andrew & Aaliyah are supposed to clean up dishes and sweep the floors. I walk out into the back yard and began pacing its length. I hear the kids yelling from the house. I ignore it and continue on.
I tell my Father: “You’ve given me too much to bear. I can’t carry all of this. A surgery with Emily? Really? That was an unexpected move God. I thought we had enough of Doctors and Hospitals to last the rest of our lives. But we’re back in it again?”
I sob and hiccup my frustration out to God.
When I am somewhat calmed, I listen.
He speaks.
He shows me an enormous stadium. It is the stadium that hosts the race we call Life.
I see the gigantic racing field. It’s a Spartan obstacle course. Rugged. Exhausting. Beautiful. Painful. Exhilarating. Demanding.
I see mud pits, dark valleys, sheer rock walls, mountain tops, level meadows and treacherous paths. There is the sand-bag carry, the inverted wall, the rope climb and rotating monkey bars. Ring rows and the spear throw, wow. So many obstacles! But this is the race course.
I see myself in the middle of the field. I’m standing with my head down, crying my heart out because the vertical wall in front of me looks insurmountable. And I am exhausted.
I look up. The bleachers are full of people. I know who is there: it is ‘The great cloud of witnesses who have gone on before us’ as mentioned in Hebrews 12:1. Moses is there, Abraham, Sarah, Job sits near the bottom row screaming my name in encouragement. King David is there, Noah, Eve, Deborah, Samson, Mary, John and Peter. Ezekiel, Joseph, Daniel, Gideon, Rahab and Joshua are all sitting there. There are millions more and I’ve read about hundreds of their lives. Some of them I have met and ran a portion of the race with.
They sit on the edges of the seats, tense with anticipation, breathlessly leaning forward, intently watching the racers. Watching us. You and I.
They see me struggle and get hung up on an obstacle. They stand and shout encouragement.
They scream and erupt in cheers when I make another choice toward the Finish Line and overcome an obstacle.
They hold a collective breath when I stumble.
They stamp and shout in excitement when I get up after a fall and keep running.
Sometimes I fall multiple times or make various attempts at the same obstacle; no matter, they all bellow reassurance and confidence in me.
The screams of joy when I complete an obstacle are thunderous.
These observers have all run and completed this race. They understand the feelings of exhaustion, fear and hopelessness we sometimes face. They have felt the pain and the joy of conquering an obstacle. They’ve run this course. They understand. They know.
One person I haven’t mentioned yet: Jesus.
He isn’t on the bleachers. He is not sitting in the observation booth.
I suddenly realize that He is on the course with me!
He is beside me, tugging my hand up when I fall, giving me a step up when I face what looks like an insurmountable wall.
He is with me. Running the course right beside me.
My heart is uplifted and I take a deep breath. I’m ready to try again, keep running.
Imagine how it’s going to be to cross that finished line. It will be unspeakable emotion.
The joy.
The glory.
To hear Him say “Well done, my child. Enter into the glory of the Lord.”
I can only imagine.
“Who are you to me Jesus?”
“I am with you,” He replies. “I will never leave you or forsake you. I am running this race with you.”