My heart was pounding as I rounded the corner. I could feel the perspiration sliding down my neck. My arms were pumping, and each time my feet hit the ground, I could hear the mud, the water, the snow, slapping at the backs of my legs.
I was home for spring break, visiting my family in Idaho. My wonderfully disciplined sister, and my forever enthusiastic brother had just signed up for a half-marathon. I will be completely honest, I wasn't sure if I could run around the block. So, here I was, feeling the pressure, out of excuses, and determined to deceive my body into believing this was a good thing.
As I ran, scratch that, as I huffed and puffed, my eyes were drawn to the crocuses peeping out of the snow, and to the robins flitting in and out of the trees The sun was warm on my face and I could almost, almost be persuaded that spring was here.
Spring is a wonderful thing. For me, it is the end of winter. Here in Canada, that would be at least nine months of our year. Here in the Rockies, winter is accepted as a possibility for any month. Coats, toques, mittens, and boots are never put too far away. Nevertheless, spring is life, birth, a long, deep breath after hibernation.
Spring brought beautiful, precious life to the Falconer family. Four years ago, Samuel Forest Falconer was given to us, and has blessed our family with laughter and a sweetness akin to honey. This particular spring, we celebrated the gift of life with our little flower, Willow Anne. She is one.
When her slippery little self was placed into my arms for the first time, my feelings were much like my first spring run, exhileration, awe to be in the presence of such beauty, and such a strong sense of being so overwhelmed. There was no way I was going to be able to be a mum to four children. I can't. Life must have a rewind button....somewhere.
I looked down at the screaming little bundle in my arms. The crying suddenly stopped, and big, clear blue eyes stared back at me. Maybe she saw the fear in my eyes. "You can do this, mom." I swear she spoke to me. "I know you don't have the strength, but God does. You can do this with Him."
I have learned not to have high expectations. I have learned to set small goals. I have learned, and am still, to be content. There are now days when chaos is not reigning, or at least all day. Those days, I want to stand on a table and beat my chest, barbaric, I know. However, I realize that those victories do not belong to me, but Christ within me.
The discipline of gratitude must be practiced, like running, must be trained for. I wish for thankfulness to bubble to the surface naturally and instantly. I want to see the completed picture, the finish line. I want to somehow make the now, me, smaller.
I believe this is something worth training for, worth training my children for.
