Finishing Strong--A Life Lesson in What it Means to Finish Strong

Every student finished the race. Or, so I thought.

Teachers, parents, and students lined the pathway leading up to the finish line. They cheered and applauded with vigor as each of the kids passed by.

"You can do it!" voices called out to a few stragglers who lagged behind.

"Don't give up! You're almost there! You did it!"

About 200 kids participated in our elementary school's 5K Fun Run. Some sprinted. Some jogged. Some strolled. Some walked. Twenty-five minutes after the last student crossed the finish line, we all began to disassemble. Then the principle and a few teachers huddled near the corner at the edge of the school property. They informed us there was one more runner—a boy in a wheelchair. He had no legs to run on. With two pint-sized arms he pushed on his wheels, block after block, mile after mile.   

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An announcement was made. All the 5^th and 6^th graders who ran in the race were asked to return to the finish line to welcome in the last racer—the boy who couldn't run.

My friend and I got to the corner and looked down the street to see a boy with a smile as wide as the street pushing himself along. His name was Jag.

Surrounding him were a group of his closest friends, a few parents, and a police officer, who drove alongside in a squad car. For nearly ten minutes, we watched this boy make his way towards the school.  It had been more than an hour since the race began.  As the applause grew louder , students called out his name.

"Jag! Jag! Jag!" With each call, Jag pushed a little harder, a little stronger.

Watching the scene unfold, several of us moms wrapped our arms around each other. Tears ran down our cheeks as we witnessed the sweet taste of victory. With so much wrong in the world—this felt so right. It was humanity at its best. My heart beat faster and faster. It beat for a boy who rolled his way to the finish line to show us all what it means to finish strong.

Today, I'm speaking at a cancer fund raiser for a woman who is who is running a race against time, hoping chemo and radiation will lend her more of it. Just like Jag, Ora will push herself along until her race is complete. Ora may not be the fastest. She may not be the swiftest. She may not be the strongest, but I guarantee you whatever the outcome Ora will finish strong. Those who love her and support her will see to it. (I'm with you Ora!)

Remember...

"The race is not to the swift,

nor the battle to the strong,

neither yet bread to the wise,

nor yet riches to men of understanding,

nor yet favour to men of skill (Ecclesiastes 9:11)."

We all run a different kind of race with our strengths and weaknesses in tow. Some weaknesses are of our own choosing which we must learn to let go of so we can finish—strong. 

God is standing on the side lines cheering us on, but he's not going to push us—even when we're tired and blistered because he knows what true victory means.

After today's race, I'm grateful— for two working legs that can run a 5K—but more so for a young boy in a wheelchair whose legs couldn't...but whose heart wouldn't...keep him from finishing strong.

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******  Whatever your race, finish strong. ******

Unlikely Prayers In Unlikely Places

Unlikely Prayers In Unlikely Places

I’ve been praying like crazy these past few weeks because we’ve had some big decisions to make. We’ve needed some extra help from above, so the prayer circuits at the Robinson household have been working on overload. Thinking about prayer has reminded me of a sweet experience I had a few years ago. About one week before my 4th baby was born, I was doing some last minute shopping at the baby superstore. Standing in the blanket aisle of Babies R US, with swollen feet and a bulging belly, I was determined to buy a few, last minute items, when out of the corner of my eye, a woman started walking toward me. She wasn’t headed for the blankets. She was headed straight for me. I looked away but within seconds she was right next to me. A complete stranger, she smiled as if we had known each other since we were born. She asked, “Is it a boy or a girl?” Holding up a pink, blue, and cream chenille blanket, I cautiously told her we didn’t know what we were having thus the need for three different colored blankets.

“Oh,” she said with a hint of understanding. “Well, I’m having twins. A boy and a girl.”

“That’s perfect,” I responded feeling a little more comfortable.

I guess when you’re pregnant, every woman with a bulging belly is an immediate ally.

“What color is your nursery?” I questioned. Our conversation then continued on for several minutes. We talked about binkies, babbas, blankies, misplaced body parts and pre-labor anxiety. We laughed a little before the tone turned a little more serious. Her demeanor was so welcoming and genuine that I found myself sharing my whole pregnancy history, and how, even though I was almost full term, I was still a little worried because of what I had been through. It didn’t take long before she grabbed my hand and said “Can I say a prayer for you?” I was a bit stunned. First, this stranger approaches me out of the blue and now she was holding my hand and in my air space, which when you’re three feet wide is awfully close. I honestly did not know what I should do. I had never been prayed for by a stranger in the middle of Babies R US before. I was questioning proper protocol. Although I had bonded with this woman over small talk, I was a little uncomfortable about what other customers might think if they saw two women with their heads bowed and arms crossed in the middle of aisle six. She didn’t give me a chance to back out. She quickly launched into her spiel about being a member of a nearby church and how her pastor had asked everyone to pray for a stranger sometime that week. Apparently I was that stranger and she wanted to pray for me. So, there we stood. Hand in hand in the blanket aisle of the baby store as this total stranger asked God to bless me to calm my anxieties and fears. My eyes welled up with tears. It was really a touching thing to hear someone I hardly new pray for me. When the woman finished, I didn't know exactly what to say other than, "Thank you. That was the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me.” We finished our conversation about blankets and said goodbye. Every time I drive by Babies R US, I am compelled to think of aisle six and that prayer offered on my behalf by a woman who didn’t even know me. What a beautiful thing!

So, today, I am sending my prayers out over the Internet to anyone who needs to be prayed for. I don’t know all of you. But I know everyone can use a prayer. If you find yourself, feeling a little low today, just remember that someone, maybe even someone you have never even met, has already said for prayer for you just because.

Sometimes, prayers offered by unlikely people in unlikely places are likely to bless us in ways we never imagine. To the woman who prayed for me on a hot July day in the middle of the baby superstore, I thank you for praying for me. You taught me that’s how we all need to be. Less afraid to reach out and share God’s good graces. If you feel like it, I hope you, too, will say a prayer for those who need one and even those who think they don’t.

Sincerely,

Jodi Robinson
Author, "Women of Virtue"
True beauty is felt more than it is seen.