I wonder if this is how God feels?
It has been a remarkable season watching my oldest daughter run cross-country for her junior high team.
Remarkable in the sense that she has received no genetic gifting whatsoever for this endeavor from her father.
Remarkable in the fact that two months ago, Kate had never run a single mile.
Remarkable in the way that God has worked on me through all of this.
It’s hard being an overprotective father at a cross-country meet.
Finally, the gun goes off, and off they go.
What if she falls?
What if she gets lost?
What if she gets sick?
What am I supposed to do?
Wait.
Watch.
Cheer.
Since her first meet, Kate’s single goal was to qualify for the state meet.
She watched as her best friend qualified.
She watched as new friends qualified.
She got excited as her times steadily dropped with each meet.
She fretted for two straight meets as her times went in the wrong direction.
She celebrated as the whole team qualified for the state meet, but she wasn’t content.
“I will qualify as an individual.”
She became Donna Quixote, and 14:30 was her windmill.
Last night, with fall definitely in the air, the starter’s pistol once again signaled the start of another pursuit and the last chance to qualify as an individual for state.
Kate looked so strong.
Kate looked so beautiful.
Kate looked so determined.
Kate looked so at peace.
And then she was gone.
Swallowed up by the pack,
overtaken by the trees.
And all I could do was…
Wait.
Watch.
Cheer.
This was Kate’s race.
Her competition was herself.
I couldn’t fix things.
Make things better.
Guarantee her a happy ending.
On the other side of the finish line was a life lesson written out just for her.
Regardless of the outcome, Kate was going to learn something about herself.
And all I could do was…
Wait.
Watch.
Cheer.
As she crossed the finish line, I came to a realization and placed my stopwatch into my pocket.
Her victory would not be defined by place.
Her worth could never be factored out in increments of time.
Kate left nothing out on that course.
And although she was not the fastest, no one was more determined out there.
As we walked towards each other, tears filled both our eyes.
No words.
She just needed her Dad to hold her for a minute.
I wondered if this is how God feels?
When we fall into His arms,
Exhausted,
Weary,
With nothing left to give.
I wondered if this is what God is waiting for?
For us to fall into His arms, win, lose, or draw.
Running to Him as our refuge and strength, above any accolades, awards, or ribbons.
I wondered if this is what God longs for?
That moment when we realize that we have a Father in Heaven who will throw open His arms to hold us when we seek Him out,
regardless of where, how, or even if we cross the finish line.
Kate’s time was 14:26.
Kate qualified as an individual for the state meet.
Her response…
“I know I can go faster.”
I know you can, too, Kate Rabbit.
I know you can too.
But even if you don’t…
There is nothing you can do or not do that will make me love you even more or even less.
I wonder if this is how God feels?