Sharing

Last weekend a dear friend of mine, Laurel, ran the P.F. Chang's half marathon ( That's 13.1 miles for those of you that are like me and have no idea about anything that involves running!) Sheryl, another dear friend of mine who is also a 5 year survivor of melanoma, and I were there to cheer Laurel on as we have for the last four years. There was something, however, much different about this year ... Laurel was running to honor and celebrate Sheryl and I reaching our five year anniversary of being cancer free. (Myself from breast cancer and Sheryl from melanoma.)

When she first told me about her intentions, I thought about her gift and realized that there were similarities between her race and the one that I ran when I was fighting cancer. For example, both involve a long journey, require pacing and stamina, and are not for the faint of heart. Both have unexpected challenges, require dedication and sacrifice, and are easier if the runner has supporters to cheer them on. Both are painful, yet are filled with rewards. Both have a way of teaching those watching, as well as those running, about life. I did not realize it at the time, but this year her race was going to have a huge, and lasting, impact on me.

Being three year veterans, Sheryl and I entered this year with a tried and true game plan: catch Laurel at the 8 mile mark and then again at the finish line. We arrived at our first destination with plenty of time to spare ... about 45 minutes. While waiting, as always, I passed the time watching and taking pictures of both the participants and the onlookers ... and as always I found myself touched over and over again. So many people, so many stories. So many reasons for being there, for running, for watching. If you have never been, there is just something awe-inspiring about watching thousands of people running for a cause. There is just no way to describe it.

About forty-five minutes later, right on schedule, we noticed a bright pink visor bouncing a top the throng of runners. (Did I mention that Laurel is tall?) Right away, already quickened by all the other moments I had witnessed while waiting, I immediately found myself with a lump in my throat. When she got to us, she paused to hug us, modeled the shirt she designed for the occasion, and gave us an update on her current physical standings. Her foot was hurting her with each and every step she took and she was tired, but she was determined to make it ... and with a quick hug good-bye she returned to the race revealing to us, the back of her shirt which read, "Laurel 13:1 or bust."

As soon as she rounded the corner, Sheryl and I rapidly departed and hurried towards our final, and most important location in the race, the finish line. If you think that there were a lot of people in the race, then multiply that times 3 and I am sure you can imagine what that area looks like. It is really wall to wall people, all trying to find their loved ones. Last year, we made it to the edge of the crowd, bit were unable to make it through it to the finish line. This year we were determined that we would not be stopped. We were going to be there at the finish line for Laurel, after all she was running for us! So we ducked and pivoted, rushed and maneuvered our way through the crowds with such determination that we were at the finish line before we knew it. We strategically placed ourselves in cue at a spot where there the mob of people was only a few deep to the rail, and held our breath. Would the people move? Would we get to the front before our friend arrived? We called her on her cell phone, and found out that we had about 5 minutes to her arrival. Within minutes the family in front of us watched their loved one cross the finish line, and they were off to find him. Sheryl and I took our positions at the edge of the course and watched expectantly. Before to long, the pink visor came into view. She was walking, the time was ticking and she was walking. Slowly I realized that this could only mean one thing ... she was really hurting. My heart rushed out to great her, encouraging her, pulling her forward. She began to run once again and our hearts swelled. Camera shutter operating at warp speed, I captured her running towards us. When she got right in front of us she looked right at us, pointed to her aching feet and then us, while mouthing, "This one's for you!" And time stopped for me.

This one was for me ... and Sheryl, but I was on the precipice of an epiphany. (So, know that when I say "For me" I am not forgetting that it was indeed "For us," but God was painting a picture for me.) This beautiful friend ran for me. For me ... she trained long hours. For me she sacrificed time she would have spent doing something else. For me she sacrificed and took on the cost of running 13.1 miles ... physical pain. For me ... she smiled in the face of pain and celebrated me. For me ... she pushed on even when her body screamed for her to stop. For me ... she finished the race. For me ... she paid a price ... because of her love for me. And in that seemingly endless moment in frozen time I realized that I could see Jesus in my dear friend, and could feel His love pouring through her. As the tears streamed down my face, I could picture that day so many years ago when Christ finished his race on Earth and could almost envision God pointing down at His only Son painfully nailed to a cross ... only to then point at humanity, eyes full of love, and mouth, "This one is for you."

It has been a week and I am still emotionally moved by the memory of that single moment. I am changed by it, and I can't help but ponder what it would be like if we all strove to touch someone else's life so deeply by being intentional about the way we show Christ to others. What would it be like if we were willing to work for it, hurt for it, sacrifice for it? What if each one of us truly dressed ourselves the way that we are instructed to? (Ah, so there is a tie to my verse ...) My friends I challenge you today. Being Christians, we will show Jesus to others whether we are seeking to or not. Therefore, choose to be an active participant in the way that you do it. Be intentional about it. Be willing to love, the way that God asks us to. I love you all dearly, and thank you for going on this journey with me. Oh, and Laurel, thank you and I love you. I will never forget that moment, or the amazing way that God used you to declare His love for me.

May the Lord shine through you in ways that change the world,

Lisa


Father,
Thank you for my dear friend Laurel and her amazing heart. Thank you for using her to show me your heart for us and the imensness of your love for us. I pray that I would be aware that lives can be changed in a single moment, much as mine was that day at the race ... and in that awaresness constantly seek to clothe myself as yours ... putting on behavior that reflects tenderhearted pity and mercy, kindness, a lowly opinion of myself, gentle ways, and patience both tireless and long-suffering, that has the power to endure whatever comes, with good temper. Refine and guide me Father, that I might be a vessel that pours you out to everyone I meet in ways that glorify You. Amen.