My youngest son ran Boston a few years back. It was thrilling, nerve-wracking, exciting and wonderful. My oldest son is hoping to qualify for Boston this year in Pittsburgh and wants to run it next year, God willing.
And yesterday, there were almost 25,000 runners from all over the world at the Boston Marathon and many, many supporters gathered throughout the course, especially toward the end. And then, there was a loud bang at the finish line. And then another thunderous explosion.
And an eight-year old boy died. And two other precious human beings lost their lives. And over 173 were injured. Burned. Maimed. Bloodied.
And today, life tries to somehow go on, but the skies, they are grey, and the sun, it doesn’t seem to be able to break through the clouds.
We runners wear our race t-shirts as a sign of solidarity.
And the little cold that seeks to settle in my chest,it seems so irrelevant now.
I sob for those parents who lost their son, and those limbs that are forever gone, and those gruesome pictures indelibly imprinted behind the eyes of those who were there. Those who felt the fear, smelled the burn, saw the blood. Met hate face to face.
Dazed. In shock.
But today, life tries to somehow go on, even though the skies are grey and the sun refuses to shine through the clouds. And as my little battered heart seeks to get up from the blow humanity suffered, it remembers its Master’s call to run the race until the end.
And I remember my own little marathon a few years back, and how I encountered Jesus with skin on. If it had not been for Jesus with skin on, I would surely have quit and not tasted the sweet victory at the end.
And today, as life tries to somehow go on with grey skies and no sunshine, I am taking God’s call seriously to run my race until the end.
To run as long as I have breath in me. To run with my head held high because no matter what, He is the lifter of my head. To run, knowing that this is His will for me. To run the best I know how, being Jesus with skin on for whomever my path crosses, and taking as many as I can with me on the race, and pushing through day in and day out, until He comes for me and says, “well done.”
And the little cold that seeks to settle in my chest, it seems so irrelevant now.
Cultivating Thankfulness with Ann:
#583 Having a Savior
#584 Memories of a good race
Sometimes, I link up with any or all of these wonderful writers: Hearts 4 Home, SDG, Hearts Reflected, WLW, EOA, Things I can’t say, Growing Home, Play Dates with God, Monday Musings, Hear it on Sunday, Inspire Me Monday, Tell me a Story, The Better Mom, a Mama’s Story, Into the Word, In and Around Mondays,OYHT, Gratituesday, Titus2Tuesdays, Extraordinay, Lessons from Ivy, Denise in Bloom, Sweet Blessings, Faith Filled Friday, Finding Joy, WholeHearted Home, Mom’s the Word,