On this particular October day the meet was the last of the season, the district meet. This was the meet where the top winners would advance to state finals. My runner is not usually in the front of the pack so while we weren't looking for one of those top three, spots we always run for what runners call their PR, personal record. So, I've learned to cheer for everyone to PR. This day was no exception. I mentioned before that I rarely hold back when I am cheering on my runner. I actually wonder if it's too much sometimes. There's a fine line between encouragement and embarrassment. That crisp fall morning was no exception. But, before she headed to the start line she looked at me and said, "I need you to make sure you are at two parts of the race." She went on to explain and share the two hardest parts to maintain momentum and basically gave me full permission to yell my head off. Having been on this course now for the third time she knew exactly where the tough parts were and when she would need some cheering on. As the race began I watched her warm up at the starting line and carefully surveyed the course thinking about how I would get to the two spots she had pointed out to me before the race. I waited with great anticipation for the first group of runners to pass knowing she would be following close behind that pack. Names of runners were being shouted all around me along with declared times by the handful of coaches who spread throughout the course. I saw my runner and began yelling my usual, "push hard" "you got this" "do not give up". The moment is fleeting as it only lasts for the brief moment she passes me. But, it fills me with great emotion and passion. As soon as her pack passed I began to head to the next point.
The area she informed me was the " If you only get to one spot, get here!" kind of spot. These races only last 20-25 minutes so you only have so much time to get to each point to see the runners. Timing is everything. I immediately headed over to the important spot and stopped dead in my tracks. What separated me from the area was a four foot ditch, rather deep in nature. At first I couldn't understand WHY I had seen people sprinting in the other direction. I soon realized they were heading towards the route that allowed you to pass on land and not trudge through a ditch. I was not alone. A crowd of people were gathering and had decided to just cheer safely from the other side of the ditch. I surveyed the situation and realized that I had a choice to make.I was either going to cheer safely from a distance or I could brave the ditch and get to where she specifically asked me to be earlier that day. Now remember, it had rained several days before this so there was nothing dry about this ditch. If I chose this route I would have to jump down and climb up the other side. Out of the corner of my eye I saw several young boys head to the ditch without thinking. I threw caution to the wind, and jumped down. I landed without falling (barely) and then studied them pulling up on the branches to get out of the ditch. Now I probably had at least 40 pounds on them but I said a quick prayer and pulled myself out of the ditch with some mud-stained knees as souvenirs. In my decision making I had missed the first pack of 10-15 runners and the field had cleared. Not many people come to cheer on the second pack. Most of the fuss and attention (understandably) is for WHO is going to get the top three spots. I had just a moment to brush my self off when in the distance I saw the bobbing ponytail of my favorite runner. She was at the head of the second pack. Unashamedly I began to yell my head off. Cheering her and telling her to not give up. It gave me a feeling of parental success. I had been somewhere when my kid needed me and followed through.
My climb back down and up the ditch was slightly uneventful, powered mostly by adrenaline and mom-emotion. In prior months, really since the beginning of that school year, I had really been struggling as a parent; feeling powerless, not having much success, seemingly making mistakes, butting heads. I felt like everything I knew that I was supposed to be doing was thrown back in my face as inadequate. I felt as if being a good parent was just not in my cards.So this feeling of victory and accomplishment was a welcome emotion. I had to sprint to the next spot and as I did the Lord gave me a beautiful word picture. I ran with dirt stained knees and soggy shoes and He quietly spoke to me and said, "You are not failing. You have to realize that life is messy sometimes and you just have to be willing to get down in the ditch. Don't be afraid to get dirty." It was beautiful and it gave me a whole new outlook. As a perfectionist I naturally seek for perfection. If I don't see it I begin to measure my self worth and my success as a complete failure. I was reminded that day that perfect parenting basically does not exist. I just need to continue to be willing to climb down in the ditches when necessary and not be afraid to get dirty. I need to be cheering them on (most importantly) when they are struggling, or not at the head of the pack. I need to be willing to be a support when others have left them behind.
In recent days the Lord has stirred up this story in my mind. Not in relation to parenting but rather in my relationship with Him. He has gently reminded me He is present in MY MESS! This past year, more than any, I have realized that life is NEVER going to be perfect. Relationships are NEVER going to be perfect. But HE is enough. He is ever-present in my mess.
