It is 5:46 in the morning. I haven't slept most of the night and I just finished what turned out to be a pretty fast tempo run. The following facts my be fuzzy...but the story is true.
4:18. It is four o'clock in the morning. I lay, staring back and forth from my clock to the ceiling. Why? Thoughts race through my head but it is all chaos. Nothing makes sense. 4:19.
Tuesday night, I came home from work to national tragedy. In an act of stupid sadism, someone had planted what appeared to be two homemade explosive devices at the finish line of the Boston Marathon. Why? Having spent a great deal of time with runners, I find that there are few people more sincere in their passion for life and love for others than runners. There is something about running that connects one with his/her surroundings and environment and brings out the best in people. Why would someone intentionally try to hurt such a group?
And at Boston...Boston is one of the most famous marathons, prestigious because not just anyone can enter. In order to run (officially) the Boston Marathon, you must qualify by running a sanctioned marathon under a certain time. Many runners work for years to qualify for Boston. I, myself, have ambitions to someday qualify for Boston. It could easily have been me running that road when the bomb exploded.
And at the finish line...where hopes and dreams become reality. Where effort and dedication and all the STUFF you work for and sacrificed for and prayed for come together...where family gathers to hold you up as you cross the determined point that says in an indescribable way: "I DID IT." For some, this dream--what should have been a moment of great triumph--was literally blown away in an act of hate.
Why?
I grab my shoes. There is no point in laying in bed right now tossing and turning. I dress and step into the cold night air. Texas in spring is very unpredictable. Temperature this week ranged from 90 to 30. This morning, it's closer to 30. The cold air feels fresh against my skin and I run. I run into the darkness trying to make sense of the chaos.
Wednesday night, I sat outside with the kids gathered around, reading scriptures like we try to do every night as a family. I love my family more than words can express. My greatest fear is that one of my loved ones will someday suffer in a way that I am helpless to prevent or alleviate. I pray that God doesn't put us through that...
Without warning thunder rocked the house. The kind of thunder that literally ROCKS the house. Windows rattle and the whole Earth is moved slightly. I knew there were storms in the forecast but the sky didn't look ready to rain. I didn't understand.
What I didn't understand was that while I sat with my kids, a fertilizer plant in the town of West (about 20 miles away) exploded. I won't go over details of what is now national news. I have friends there. It is very close to home.
Still shaken by the tragedy of Boston which, while not close to home, was close to my heart, I was forced to face yet a more devastating tragedy. West, a town that is as much a part of my community as the local Wal-mart, had gone up in smoke. No one could comprehend. Friends missing...some dead.
Why?
I intended to fall into an easy pace and stretch the legs but was the night air filled my lungs my legs turned faster. I needed to FEEL. I needed my lungs to burn and my heart to burst. I ran into the darkness--into the unknown being swallowed by the night feeling that somehow if I ran long and hard enough the confusion would melt into order.
The stars flickered above.
I ran on.
Why?
I ran on.
I wanted to pray. To thank God that I was safe...that my family was safe. But wouldn't that be like saying, "Thank you, God, for making others suffer...and not me." People lost loved ones in Boston and West. Parents lost children...children lost fathers...How could I thank God that it was them and not me?
I ran on.
Why?
Faster...Harder....Make it make sense....
Why do some die? Why not me? It could have been...What if it was my child...What if it was me....Maybe next time it will be...
Faster...make it make sense...
Most of those killed in West were first responders. Firefighters, police, medical personal who were trying to save the lives of others. The type of people you want to keep around were the ones who gave their lives.
Faster...Harder...
But no matter how fast I run, no matter how hard I push, I can't turn back time. I can't change the past. No one can. And everybody dies...
I turned down the road, still running and looked to the stars. They seemed to form an arrow pointing down the road towards home. "This way," they beckoned. Like the firemen. Like the first responders. You can't change the past; everyone will have to give their life at some point. You can live it for yourself and lose it in the end...or you can give it to those around you. In some heroic cases, brave men and women give their lives saving others. You can be a hero too, the stars seemed to say. Whether or not your life is taken in tradegy or in old age...it will someday be taken, this is certain. And all that will be left when that day comes is the legacy you leave behind, so...
LIVE with purpose. LOVE with passion...and GIVE your life to those who will appreciate it the most. Spend time with family, teach those who will learn, share with those in need, Give your life away one day at a time, hour by hour, minute by minute and maybe, just maybe, it will make sense in the end.
I won't pretend to have all the answers. But I think it's a start.
And never forget those who have already given their lives.
Amen
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