My sweet (and sometime very silly) children. I’m blessed to be their mama.
It’s 6:45. A beautifully cool morning, I’m perched on my favorite blue chair out on my back deck. I’m awaiting the day’s events to begin. While children are still sleeping, I’m preparing for the the hubbub of activity with some Scripture, coffee in my favorite cup, and a few deep breaths.
With all of this Olympics watching going on at our house these past few days- the opening ceremonies, the water polo, the weight-lifting, the swimming, the gymnastics- I can’t help but feel like my life as a mother qualifies me as an olympian. The stamina needed on a day to day basis, for simply making it to the next heat is exhausting.
There are the regular entries, such as cleaning and laundry. the dishes. the diaper changing and general room tidying. and reading books, and more laundry. the home work. overseeing the piano practice. hourly sweeping of the goldfish crumbs and play doh pieces. And these are the simple events.
What about the grocery store challenge, with all three kids? Who doesn’t need immense strength for that struggle? And the biathlon event known as the overflowing toilet that must be attended to in the middle of cooking dinner. If that doesn’t need untold amounts of stamina, I don’t know what does.
Those are just the physical events… There are emotional and spiritual rounds of solving behavioral dilemmas that are mind boggling, massive temper tantrums that need redirecting, sibling squabbles that seem uncontrollable and character building that is slow, if not impossible.
Every day is a marathon. From sun up to sun down, the rounds are perpetual, but the medal stand is nowhere in sight. Certainly expectations for “the gold” are low.
It would be easy to feel completely overwhelmed and unprepared, even unable or incapacitated if it weren’t for this: I don’t have to win. No doubt, I should participate like I want to win, but truly I just have to do my best, following His example. There is a crown for all of the faithful athletes who love Him. That is His promise. And the good news: He will help me make it to the end. After all, He knows what it is like to run the race and cross the finish line.
In Paul’s letter to Timothy, when his life’s race was ending, he said this in 2Timothy 4:
6 For I am already being poured out as a drink offering, and the time of my departure is at hand. 7 I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. 8 Finally, there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will give to me on that Day, and not to me only but also to all who have loved His appearing.
I am no where near being poured out like the drink offering he talks about at the end of life. Its not even close. This marathon I’m running isn’t even halfway finished. In spite of the daily trials, I’m called to be faithful and love Him. When the time comes to cross at the finish, by His grace alone I’ll be able to say I’ve finished well. only by His grace…
In the mean time, I hear the pitter patter of little feet and I know its time… Runners, take your mark… Let the day begin, with this from Hebrews 12:1-2 in mind:
Therefore we also, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily ensnares us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, 2 looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.
daily portion 
Oh my. Thank you.