She was obviously not the fastest runner in the longest girls race at the track meet.
A girl from another high school, average height, average build.
She started out at a decent clip, nothing to shout about but steady.
But as the race wore on, the girls going round and round, her brow began to furrow.
Toward the end she was a full lap behind everyone else...
But she was still running.
Still at the same pace she started at.
Still with the furrowed brow.
Maybe there was a reason she ran at that pace,
Maybe she was injured,
Or a novice,
Or sick,
But she kept going.
Even as the last of the runners jogged off the lanes to cool down and stretch...
She headed into her final lap...
Alone.
I watched her all around the track
My eyes glued to her french braid as it bobbed behind her
And one word thumped like a heartbeat in my head...
Faithful. Faithful. Faithful.
She wasn't going to give up no matter how far behind she was.
She was running her race.
Her race.
As she came around the last bend and began her last pass in front of the bleachers I cheered,
Her team mates cheered
and our knees are bloody from falling
and we're crawling...
But right there at the finish line will always be our Coach...
I saw the same girl later running laps around the parking lot with her coach.
What a different countenance she had...
Laughing and smiling.
Both of them.
She had run her race and he was proud of her.
Well done...
That's my goal.
To run my race until I cross that finish line
To fall into the arms of my Coach and hear Him say
Well done...
Not because I did everything well
Or because I was the best at anything
But because I stayed the course when I wanted to bow out.
Because even when I knew I had failed I kept trying.
Because I lifted my eyes back to Him even when I had fallen in the dark and got up again.
Let the sound of my steps be...
Faithful... Faithful... Faithful...
to the last stride of my race.
A girl from another high school, average height, average build.
She started out at a decent clip, nothing to shout about but steady.
But as the race wore on, the girls going round and round, her brow began to furrow.
Toward the end she was a full lap behind everyone else...
But she was still running.
Still at the same pace she started at.
Still with the furrowed brow.
Maybe there was a reason she ran at that pace,
Maybe she was injured,
Or a novice,
Or sick,
But she kept going.
Even as the last of the runners jogged off the lanes to cool down and stretch...
She headed into her final lap...
Alone.
I watched her all around the track
My eyes glued to her french braid as it bobbed behind her
And one word thumped like a heartbeat in my head...
Faithful. Faithful. Faithful.
She wasn't going to give up no matter how far behind she was.
She was running her race.
Her race.
As she came around the last bend and began her last pass in front of the bleachers I cheered,
Her team mates cheered
Everyone cheered...
Cheered for her determination
Her steady steps all the way to the finish line.
In my eyes she won.
She really won.
The competition that's the hardest is always in our own head, and she beat it.
She was triumphant.
She didn't just not come in first
She was in last place...
The last girl running.
The consummate loser.
I can so identify with her.
I have felt like the ultimate loser on so many levels.
Loser at academics
Loser at relationships
Loser at parenting
Loser... loser.. loser.
Back in the day when I was in Junior High that was the word
You know, with the hand gesture to go along with it...
That big sign language L on the forehead.
And then some kids thought they'd be witty and start calling people winners instead
Totally wiping out any positive connection with that word.
Kids can be so cruel.
People can be so cruel.
Life can be cruel.
But the other day I didn't see any cruel at all.
Just cheering as that courageous, determined, steady young girl finished her race.
It's really all we're called to do.
To stay in our lane and finish our race.
It doesn't matter if we're a lap behind
Or two laps behind...
Or maybe it's dark out and the stands are all empty
Cheered for her determination
Her steady steps all the way to the finish line.
In my eyes she won.
She really won.
The competition that's the hardest is always in our own head, and she beat it.
She was triumphant.
She didn't just not come in first
She was in last place...
The last girl running.
The consummate loser.
I can so identify with her.
I have felt like the ultimate loser on so many levels.
Loser at academics
Loser at relationships
Loser at parenting
Loser... loser.. loser.
Back in the day when I was in Junior High that was the word
You know, with the hand gesture to go along with it...
That big sign language L on the forehead.
And then some kids thought they'd be witty and start calling people winners instead
Totally wiping out any positive connection with that word.
Kids can be so cruel.
People can be so cruel.
Life can be cruel.
But the other day I didn't see any cruel at all.
Just cheering as that courageous, determined, steady young girl finished her race.
It's really all we're called to do.
To stay in our lane and finish our race.
It doesn't matter if we're a lap behind
Or two laps behind...
Or maybe it's dark out and the stands are all empty
and our knees are bloody from falling
and we're crawling...
But right there at the finish line will always be our Coach...
With eyes full of love and compassion.
I saw the same girl later running laps around the parking lot with her coach.
What a different countenance she had...
Laughing and smiling.
Both of them.
She had run her race and he was proud of her.
Well done...
That's my goal.
To run my race until I cross that finish line
To fall into the arms of my Coach and hear Him say
Well done...
Not because I did everything well
Or because I was the best at anything
But because I stayed the course when I wanted to bow out.
Because even when I knew I had failed I kept trying.
Because I lifted my eyes back to Him even when I had fallen in the dark and got up again.
Let the sound of my steps be...
Faithful... Faithful... Faithful...
to the last stride of my race.
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