For four years I have had a goal--to run from my cabin to the top of Hickory Grove Road--a road that is almost a mile of complete uphill, twisting and turning so you never know when you are near the top--you can never see how much farther you have to go-- and back without stopping, without walking, and without turning around. Every time I'm here I try multiple times, and every time I fall short. It almost didn't happen this year...
Sunday night I was laying out my running clothes for Monday morning, and I realized I had forgotten my shoes. I went to SK's cabin and asked if she had hers and if I could borrow them. Those of you who know her are laughing but she does in fact have running shoes--they may be the same ones she's had since 7th grade and they may never have actually been run in, but she has them--just not here. (We should probably get her some new ones before she leaves for school) I texted my husband and asked him to overnight mine to me the next day. He responded absolutely. He knows how much running means to me--how it is how I find peace, work out issues and experience God. I asked him and he said yes without telling me how much it was going to cost, without asking me how I could have forgotten, without making fun of me--just yes.
Tuesday afternoon the shoes arrived and I immediately put them on and headed out. I stopped and walked twice. "That's okay," I told myself, "You're not usually an afternoon runner. You'll do it in the morning." Wednesday morning I woke up early and set out. It felt good at first, but then my legs started burning, breathing became much harder. I passed the campsite turn off and thought, "if they can sleep outside in this cold (I know July but honestly it's cold here), then I can make it." Twenty yards later I stopped and walked. I told myself I would just walk to and through the next curve. As I rounded the curve I saw the top of the hill--I had almost made it and I had fallen short--again.
This morning I woke up and wondered whether I should try. After 8 knee surgeries I typically don't run three days in a row, but I knew this may be one of my last chances for a long time. All Saints is a sacred space. It's a sacred space for me and for my children. Over the past few days I have begun to wonder whether they need All Saints without me--whether they need this sacred space to be just theirs for awhile. It bruises my heart to think about not being here, but it breaks my heart to think my children may need a sacred space and that my being here might be denying them of the space they need. I don't know--time will tell, but I knew this morning that I only had two more days this week, so I set out.
It hurt from the beginning. My lungs burned; I wanted to stop almost before I started. I thought about my boys and how five years ago they spent weeks in the hospital battling asthma and then months and years struggling with attacks, multiple medicines, weight gain from steroids, bullying because of the weight gain, and now they were both three sport varsity and jv athletes. I thought about the strength they had and how All Saints was part of that strength, and I kept running. As I reached a bend in the road--a bend I think I stopped at on Tuesday (that's the other challenge of Hickory Grove--it all looks the same--very few land marks)--I wanted to stop again. And then I thought about the babies and how this summer they went to conditioning three and four times a week because they wanted to get in shape. They went when they were hot, when they were tired, when they had been invited to do other things--they went--and I kept running.
I turned a bend and the dogs came out. The dogs that often keep me from continuing--force me to turn around. They came out and they started chasing me. I shouted no but they kept coming. Sometimes by just shouting no they back off, but today they didn't. One actually bit my shoes twice but by this time I saw the top of the hill and I thought, "I'll be damned if you keep me from reaching it." So I kicked back--I was ready to fight, I saw the end in sight and nothing was going to keep me from getting there. As I was climbing the final steep hill I told myself I could stop at the top and even walk back. It was good enough--I'd make it to the top, and that would be enough. As I reached the stop sign I thought, "No see it through to the end. The WHOLE goal." I started to turn around--I may have done a little bit of the Rocky dance and shouted "YES, YES, YES, but I was still moving. I turned around and headed back down.
Runners know, downhill isn't always easy either. Downhill after 8 knee surgeries is definitely not easy. As I made my descent I thought about all the youth that are here and the stories they have shared. The stories of dysfunctional homes, bullying in schools, learning difficulties--and yet they keep going. They keep living and they keep coming back to All Saints, and I kept running.
As I finished my run I thought how much Hickory Grove Road is like life. There are steep uphills--there are challenges that seem insurmountable, and often you can't see what's around the bend. You don't know if it's almost over, when the up ends and you get a short break. I thought about all the people I know who have overcome huge obstacles in their lives and all the people I know who are still facing challenges and who will face challenges. I said prayers for them, and I convinced myself (or so I thought) that achieving this goal was for them--for others, but I was wrong. It's for them and it's for me.
As I entered my cabin I thought of the life obstacles I've overcome-physically, emotionally and spiritually. I thought of the challenges I have faced; the times I didn't know what was around the bend or even if I could make it around the bend. And I thought of the challenges yet to come--starting with letting go of my first born. I made it to the top of Hickory Grove but I didn't make it by myself. I reached out for help; I asked Chris to send my shoes and he said yes. I asked for help--something that is hard for me to do--and he said yes with no strings, no accusations, no condemnations--something I didn't always have growing up. I made it to the top knowing this may be one of my last chances--knowing others have needs that may trump mine for awhile--but knowing that All Saints will continue to be a sacred space for me, for my children, and for countless others. This may be one of my last chances for awhile, but I made it to the top because of people like Kendall who believe in me and believe in my ministry and ask me back. I made it to the top because Ben and I share a passion for ministry and for youth and we have learned to work together sometimes without words. I made it to the top because of counselors who welcome me back year after year and who I truly love. I made it to the top because of campers who are vulnerable and brave and keep showing up. I made it to the top because God gave me the ability to run, the strength to overcome, and enough love to carry me through.
I made it to the top and back--and I'll do it again.
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