The Last Lap

I had run this course hundreds of times in my life. It was one of my favorites. At nights, when I couldn’t sleep, I would imagine the run and it had a way of settling my mind and soul. It was only 4.1 miles in length composed of a rutted, graveled road. Yet it had grueling roller coaster hills, fast stretches for speed work, tree shrouded curves, plus there was always something to see as its concourse followed the outskirts of a glacial lake. For this reason, there were always sights, sounds, and smells of this region called the Great Plains.

But today the run was different. Today I didn’t notice anything. Today, my running companion was grief and this trail, so enriching for my soul, was a trail of tears. It felt like it was the end of the trail, a closing of a chapter in my story. You see, today I ran remembering my mother, Irene, whose body we had buried the day before. As I ran, I remembered the privilege that I had in sharing my life with her- the experiences ,the ponderings, the frustrations, the joys. Even though we were separated geographically for 35 years, her letters arrived like clockwork and I tried to match her regularity. Every Wednesday, her letter would arrive and my week wasn’t finished till my letter was penned. These were not profound communications, just the happenings in our weekly journey seeking to follow the Lord. But now, Friday comes and I want to write the letter but I don’t know where to send it.

So this course is finished. I don’t know if I will run that trail again. It is too painful. Most of you know what it is like to live with grief. Grief is necessary when you love. Yet, like most of you know, grief rips hard. For me, it feels like the roots have been ripped out. It hurts. As a pastor, I have walked many miles of grief. You’d think that you would get used to it but you don’t.

But as I finished that run, I had that last melancholy mile knowing that I was saying goodbye to not just my mother but to my companion, that place, my home, my past. But then out of the calmness, I felt a breeze on my back. Now in this part of the country an incessant wind is typical. But it wasn’t that kind of wind. It was the gentle wind of the Holy Spirit nudging me on saying , keep on running, you’re not home yet. Run with that homesickness and remember you’re not alone.

So like Forrest Gump, I keep on running. I am running for home. But as I run for home, I’m reminded of N.T. Wright’s observation, “Heaven is important but it is not the end of the world.” So I run and hopefully build on the training instructions my mother had bookmarked her Bible: Wake up  for this is the Day the Lord has made and rejoice and be glad in it. Dress up and put a smile on your face and let the joy of the Lord be your strength. Look up in prayer to the Lord who reigns. Reach up and try for something higher and wage war against complacency. Reach out and look for someone else you can help today. Stand up for what you believe and who you are in Christ.