I walk into work with head hung low, as sorrow and regret fill eyes and leak down cheeks. It has been one of those mornings, the kind that leaves you wishing for a "do-over", the kind that leaves you questioning, the kind that no one prepares your mom heart for. It's one of the hard days, and it feels long even though it's just begun. I shove hands hard and deep into pockets, partly in defense against the cold and partly in defense against the raw exposure of heart ripped wide because that's the raw you don't want seen. And that's when I feel them, two cold metal "coins"; a boy's treasure. One day, not too long ago, he placed this treasure he holds dear, in my hands for safe keeping. He trusts these hands, even with his treasure. For weeks, maybe months, the treasure remained in my care. He may have forgotten, but I'll return them safe. And when I do, I'll remind him that I've held them all this time, held his treasure. And I'll remind him just how much of a treasure he is to me, because sometimes I speak harshly, and I don't want him to forget. So all day long, I clasp coins in palm and I remember. I remember that even when I think he should behave as if he's grown, he isn't, he is just a little boy. He is just a little boy, His treasure, that He has placed in my hands for safe keeping.
Even if you have never laced up a pair of running shoes and hit the pavement, competed in a marathon or even a fun run, if you are a mother, you are a runner.
You run to crying babies and bedsides.
You run to skinned knees and for band-aid boxes.
You run to stores and sports and home again.
You run from stove to table again and again.
You run after school homework sessions.
You run off monsters and chase away fears.
You are a runner.
The importance of all the running is taken for granted and there are no medals at the finish line. There are days it seems we are simply running our mouths and no one is listening. Other days, the only runs are those in our stockings. We run in circles and up against seemingly insurmountable odds. There will be runs that are all uphill and against the wind, and you will want to quit. But even on the days (or weeks, or months) when nothing seems to be running smoothly, remember mother, You are a runner. Runners keep running. Running in the rain, the heat and even the cold. They run against the wind and against all odds. Runners don’t quit. Mothers don’t quit. All of the miles, the easy ones, the hard ones, the painful and the fun ones are all worth running. The little people you are running after and running for will not remember the runs in your stockings, but they will remember you running beside them, running to them and running for them. And they will feel it – the love behind all the running. So keep running. You are one tough Mother Runner, but know that you are not running alone. There are a million other mothers running this race with you. They are running behind you and beside you. If I see you on the run, know that I will not judge your pace, your style or your stride. I will cheer you on and pick you up if you fall. I am running the same grueling, challenging, beautiful course – I am a mother. Let’s do this – together.
Thanks for joining me!
Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton