Today is Five Minute Friday with Lisa-Jo! Our topic is Race, and we’re writing for five minutes without interruption, edits, or worries. Will you join us?
Last year I ran a race. It was a long race. It was a hard race. There were a lot of hills.
I trained for months, running up and down streets, pushing to go longer and harder. On race day I didn’t stop once.
When I crossed the finish line, and I put on the brakes allowing my legs to stop, they could barely hold me up. They wobbled, and I remembered when Bambi first stood up to walk.
I gasped for air and immediately tears began streaming down my face. I couldn’t believe it was over. I made it. The finish line was now behind me.
In two short weeks from today (according to the calendar) I will run a race of a different kind. But this one will not end as quickly. It will continue for the continuation of my life and then even further, into eternity. And the prize of the finish line will come before I even begin running – in the form of a baby.
Of course the first hill will no doubt be the most difficult – physically – as I push this new life out into the world – unmedicated and in water. But that will only be the beginning. The first hill.
As I look at the race I am about to begin – the race of motherhood – I feel much less prepared than I did last year running that race on asphalt and concrete. This race I didn’t really prepare for. I didn’t really know how.
So then, is this really a race at all, or more of a ride? A ride of a lifetime with ups and downs and curves and detours. A ride with Someone else steering the train. Someone else carrying me to places I am unprepared to go?
I think it has to be.
For this race will not end. And my legs will not be able to sustain me. My Someone, my Savior, will have to carry me. I’ll just enjoy the ride.