Last week’s Thanksgiving Day Race saw nearly 14,000 runners and walkers finish. I walked it alone…sort of. None of my usual training partners were able to join me, and perhaps that is the way it was meant to be. So I walked, surrounding by thousands of others, and I listened. Not to my music, which assisted me in maintaining a steady pace, but rather I listened to my pulse. Strong, steady, certain, and my mind focused on the person for whom I “ran” this race, my mother. It was the final race I would compete in for 2011, and I wanted to offer my prayer on this day in thanksgiving for my mother. She has been steadfast in her support of me in this new life I now lead, even reaping some positive health benefits too, and as I left home to drive downtown for the race, she sent me with breakfast, a smile, and her inimitable prayer: “Go and win.”
Go and win. Hmmm, now that is sublime wisdom, not spoken with hubris, but humility. Remember your roots, Roxanne, is what I heard, dare I say, felt with her blessing. How apropos that a few days before the start of Advent, my mother would be waiting for me yet again, so as I walked I recalled other times she waited for me, and one singular event came to mind.
It was a Saturday morning in mid-November, and a young mother was at home, and the familiar pain that she felt before told her that today would be like no other-she would give birth today. Soon. And so it was, in the early hours of that day, her waiting ended and I arrived in the world. She waited for me. She hoped for me. It was not an easy world in which I was born, I imagine, for in the familiar grasping of hands, perhaps I somehow knew that more struggles would come…and that I would not release them until they blessed me. Strengthened me. Made certain my steps in an uncertain world.
Many more such times would she wait and hope for me, and again she tells me, “Go and win.” Once again, she sent me forth to find my path anew, and she stands at the door waiting for me. As with Simeon from of old, she waits for the blessing, and she will not go until she sees it come to pass. My mother knows something that I do not know, cannot begin to fathom. She knows that it is okay to wait for the blessing to come.
Thank you, Mom, for waiting and hoping for me. May I one day reflect the depth of trust you so now eagerly embrace. I am grateful for you, for the reminder you give me of another mother who waited for the blessing to come to pass. The blessing each of us can be in the world extends forward to infinity and backwards to eternity. Mom, you remind me that I am not great in and of myself, but that I find greatness in the hope, faith, and trust that love me to life each day. So yes, I am thankful for you-more than words can say. I too await the blessings to come.
