On The Starting Line Lent Day 8

So I’m eight days in. I feel like a Comrades runner who has just run the first 100 meters of the marathon and it suddenly dawns on me what I have just got myself into. To be honest I feel like that when I go for my run in the evening. It is only 4km but those first few meters of running are totally jarring and actually quite painful. 

Because running was never high on my list of things to do it doesn’t come naturally to me. Stephen, bless him, has great faith in my innate athletic ability and sometimes it is just his belief in me that gets me going. 

I think with most things it’s the starting of them that can be the most overwhelming. At the end of last year when I was staring down the barrel of the 10kgs I needed to lose (because the baby weight excuse wasn’t quite cutting it at my ‘baby’s’ second birthday) it was quite a daunting prospect. Rewiring ones brain and committing to a plan of action that will result in a great deal of change is never easy. But it is often very necessary. 

And sometimes it isn’t necessary but it has to be done. 

I just can’t stop thinking of the countless families who have to suddenly face grief. And there has been a lot of that going round of late. I can’t imagine how it must feel to wake up on the first morning with that punch in the stomach knowing that you have involuntarily been forced into a deeply painful marathon that you haven’t trained for and in no way want to run. 

I’ll never forget when a dear friend of mine’s sister died tragically in a car accident a few years ago. She was our neighbour and on hearing the news I packed all her toiletries and clothes and we went to her family home. I will never forget the scene that we arrived upon. And I remember not knowing what to say. As I held my broken friend and as she searched through the darkness for something to cling to I said the only thing I could think of - ‘you’ve got through the first day of this.’ 

At the time I felt it was the most inane, useless thing to say. But a couple of months later, still in the depth of her grief my friend was able to only remember moments from that first day. And one of the things she remembered was my comment. It gave her a tiny tiny victory. She made it through that first nightmare of a day. 

And so today maybe you are facing a marathon you have either chosen or not chosen to run. Maybe it is for your own good. Maybe it’s just a process that has to happen. Maybe it’s a breakup, or a weight loss programme or you have to slowly get used to life without someone who was essential to it. 

Or maybe, like me, you’ve committed yourself to  writing a blog for 40 days straight and you’ve only just left the starting block. 

Regardless of what your marathon looks like - big or small - remember that you just need to get through today. One step at a time. One blog at a time. At the end of every day allow yourself to celebrate the victory of that day. As I say many times - God’s grace is sufficient for you today. 

I have no idea what I’m going to write about tomorrow. But I know that something will pop up. This is such an interesting exercise in trusting God for tomorrow while trying not to worry about it today. 

My prayer for you and I dear reader is that we come to trust that in all things we will be held. And that no matter how long our own marathon seems to be we know it will end. And we will cross the finish line stronger, braver and more faithful because of it.