The little girl in me came alive and I bounced over to the finish line,
“Come on, Honey! Your amazing!” He came flying in, beating his race record
time by several seconds.
More and more runners came through, my sisters, cousin and a friend.
I cheered for each one of them. But I kept looking for that blue jogging stroller. I
knew he would be near the back, since he started out last.
And finally he came, his sweaty dad pushing that familiar stroller.
The finish line filled with people and we waved and cheered, “Good job, Nick!
You did it!”
Here I was, screaming my heart out for kid I’d never met until today. And He was
all smiles.
A few minutes later, they handed out the medals. One by one, the best times
and names were called. And for his age group, Nick did the second best time.
He crawled out of the stroller and ran up to the medal table.
As he was handed the red ribbon and the shiny medal a huge smile spread over
his face.
Instead of going back to his seat, he twirled the medal high over his head and
danced around the pavilion.
We screamed. We cheered. We laughed.
His eyes glittered and his face glowed. Tears stung my eyes.
We all watched this little guy dance in sheer delight, and we tasted heaven.
I had to think about the story in Matthew 19, where Jesus and his disciples had
been teaching and healing the thronging masses.
Everywhere they went, people were pressing, shoving, reaching for that healing
touch. Then came the children, full of energy and mischief, brought by eager
mothers.
I ROLLED OVER and turned off my beeping alarm.
Soft morning light drifted in the window, and in spite if it being Saturday,
I shook my husband’s shoulder. “Wake up, Honey. It’s six.”
We are not morning people, especially my six-year-old son.
I knelt over him and whispered, “Remember the race? Gotta get ready.”
His eyes flew open.
It was surprisingly cool for a morning in late May, and as we crawled out of
our car at the park, I wished I had brought a sweater. The runners lined up for
registration, pinned on their numbers and warmed up their legs.
A tall man pushed a jogging stroller to the line, and I noticed his son was
special, very special. The marks of Downs were clear, and I knew I would
have to meet this little guy.
I knelt in front of him, smiling into his sleepy face.
“Nick isn’t much of a morning person,” his daddy smiled.
“Hey, I know the feeling…”
I looked into his sky blue eyes and rested my hand on his knee,
“I’m gonna be cheering for you, Nick!”
He faintly smiled and nodded, his blond hair glowing in the morning light.
The horn went off and my husband along with the throng of other runners
flooded out onto the track. Nick’s daddy held back till there was a bit more
room and joined the tail end of the group. Nick leaned back into the stroller,
and settled in for the ride.
It was a perfect morning for a run.
I bounced my eight-month-old baby and chatted with the others who were
waiting to cheer the returning runners. I kept scanning the track, and finally I
heard someone say, “Here comes the first runner!”
Sure enough, that thin guy, wearing all black, with that beautiful stride. My man.
-28-
I can just imagine the disciples’ exhaustion as they began to intervene.
“Not today, not these kids…”
But Jesus pulled the children close, and looked reprovingly at the disciples, “Let
these little ones come to me, don’t keep them away; my Father’s kingdom
belongs to ones like these.” He touched them. He held them close. He blessed
them. He saw their worth.
The kingdom of heaven. Jesus Himself taught us to pray:
Our Father in heaven,
May Your name be
honored as holy,
May Your kingdom
come, and may
Your will be done,
here on earth as it is
in heaven.
God’s
kingdom,
here on earth.
the
Kingdom of heaven
is not far away.
For us mothers, it is
right here in our arms.
It’s a breathtaking
thought. No sin. No
grief. No loss. No
sad