"3We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they help us develop endurance. 4And endurance develops strength of character, and character strengthens our confident hope of salvation. 5And this hope will not lead to disappointment.." Romans 5:3-5
Sometimes (and not as often as it should be, per my New Years Resolution that states a minimum of 5 times per week) when I run, I pretend. I am not yet to the point of enjoying the feeling of someone stabbing me in the side, pulse resounding in my head, trying to breathe normal as people pass by, only to open my mouth and suck every molecule of oxygen from the air as soon as they are behind me, while my legs insist on doing something all their own because I can assure you that my brain is telling them to run gracefully, but I'm almost certain they take on the form of cooked noodles by the end of mile one. I'm holding out hope for the day I enjoy that feeling, solely because I want to do a Color Run, and not look like a peg leg returning from war when I cross the finish line.
Sometimes (and not as often as it should be, per my New Years Resolution that states a minimum of 5 times per week) when I run, I pretend. I am not yet to the point of enjoying the feeling of someone stabbing me in the side, pulse resounding in my head, trying to breathe normal as people pass by, only to open my mouth and suck every molecule of oxygen from the air as soon as they are behind me, while my legs insist on doing something all their own because I can assure you that my brain is telling them to run gracefully, but I'm almost certain they take on the form of cooked noodles by the end of mile one. I'm holding out hope for the day I enjoy that feeling, solely because I want to do a Color Run, and not look like a peg leg returning from war when I cross the finish line.
So, I pretend. I tell myself that Isaiah is waiting for me. If I just keep going, I'll get to hold my son. I picture scooping him into my arms and kissing his face. "I'm here Mamas Mans, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."
He's never there. I know he won't be. It just keeps me running the race. And then a pang of guilt hit me.
"What if I treasured Jesus as much as I do the son of mine He bought and paid for? The very person who sarcrificed His life in order for my sweet baby to live eternally is less important to me than Isaiah. What would my life look like if I ran the race thinking about my Savior waiting for me?"
Visions of reuniting with Isaiah are beautiful, wonderful, joy filled thoughts, but if I take Jesus out of the equation, there's no reunion to be had. I never want Isaiah to replace the very One who entrusted me to be his mother.
So I'm working on that. And 54 other New Years Resolutions. Luckily the other ones involve things like "taking time for myself", which translates to "taking a nap" in Mama language.
