It seems that every time I run in a race I gain some kind of perspective. Somehow right in the middle of it, it always ends up being harder than I thought it would be. Particularly if you are running in African heat and humidity, high elevation, and dust. Somehow this prairie girl who comes from the flatlands of Manitoba and would rather run in -30 C than +30 C is learning to adapt, albeit slowly. My heaving lungs gasp for air as I make my way up yet another steep hill, and yet when I make it to the top, tired and red faced, somehow I know it will all be ok.
So today, the runners came out of the starting gate like some kind of bullets. I felt a little silly being at the back of the pack. But I paced myself and ran at a speed I knew I could maintain. About halfway through I started passing people who had slowed to a walk because they had failed to pace themselves. You see there is something about endurance. About knowing when going a bit slower is a little bit ok. And knowing that victory is not always found only in crossing the finish line first. As I neared the last quarter of the race I came up behind a young girl who I could see was tiring. She looked at me with some kind of desperation in her face and said "Can we run together?" And so we did. Ran side by side for that last kilometre, willing each other to just keep on running. At the end of the race I asked her name, and she told me it was Mercy. And I was reminded in that moment, that even though I now live oceans away from the place I once called home, I am kind of doing the very same thing. Getting up every day, going to work, trying to be part of some kind of community around me and loving the people in my path as I do so. I may be on the mission field in a more formalized sense, but in some ways it's not really any different. And in some ways it's not at all the same. There is more material poverty on the streets in which I walk, but here, just as at home, I have the privilege of learning how to love just a little bit better. I hope that I can take each opportunity with an outstretched hand and learn from each experience. Because so far everyone I have met has something to teach me if I'm willing to listen.
So today, the runners came out of the starting gate like some kind of bullets. I felt a little silly being at the back of the pack. But I paced myself and ran at a speed I knew I could maintain. About halfway through I started passing people who had slowed to a walk because they had failed to pace themselves. You see there is something about endurance. About knowing when going a bit slower is a little bit ok. And knowing that victory is not always found only in crossing the finish line first. As I neared the last quarter of the race I came up behind a young girl who I could see was tiring. She looked at me with some kind of desperation in her face and said "Can we run together?" And so we did. Ran side by side for that last kilometre, willing each other to just keep on running. At the end of the race I asked her name, and she told me it was Mercy. And I was reminded in that moment, that even though I now live oceans away from the place I once called home, I am kind of doing the very same thing. Getting up every day, going to work, trying to be part of some kind of community around me and loving the people in my path as I do so. I may be on the mission field in a more formalized sense, but in some ways it's not really any different. And in some ways it's not at all the same. There is more material poverty on the streets in which I walk, but here, just as at home, I have the privilege of learning how to love just a little bit better. I hope that I can take each opportunity with an outstretched hand and learn from each experience. Because so far everyone I have met has something to teach me if I'm willing to listen.
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