It was one of those beautiful spring days. The trees were filled with baby leaves enough to fill the void of winter with bright green evidence of new life. Flowers were blooming. The air was warm, not hot or cold, just perfect sweater weather. And we were going for a walk. The entire student body and faculty of Grant Elementary School in Macomb, Illinois were walking the 6 or so blocks to the football stadium of Western Illinois University to watch the Special Olympics!
There was excitement in the air as the children and teachers settled in their seats and participants milled around on the track and field below. I looked across the field and saw some of the participants warming up for shot put and javelin throwing. Others were stretching in preparation for high jumping or running. They were of every size and description. Some looked strong and healthy. Many were Downs Syndrome children, some were in wheelchairs, others were in leg braces. I watched as one child in a wheelchair, both legs gone, was lifted onto the hard surface of the track just to be free from the chair for a short time.
Directly below our seats a group of young people were preparing to run the 100 yard dash. They lined up across the track in perfect starting position, the gun went off, and off they ran as fast as they could go. All accept for one little Downs Syndrome girl. She barely got started before she tripped and fell in a heap to the hard surface of the track. It seemed the entire audience gasped in unison as she fell to the ground. All eyes were on the girl. No one even paid attention to who was winning the race. The attention was on her.
She cried over and over again, "I can't do it! I can't run the race!" Suddenly her coach, a young college girl, came running from the side lines shouting, "Get up and run! You can do it! Don't give up! Run the race!"
"I can't!" the little girl cried again. Then something happened that I shall never forget. The little girl's coach took her by the hand, helped her to her feet, brushed her off, and said, "Come on. We'll run the race together."
The crowd went wild, cheering her on as she headed for the finish line! The runners who had already finished the race cheered her on from the finish line! At that moment it didn't matter who had run the fastest and finished first. It only mattered that this little girl finish the race she had begun.
Philippians 3:13b-14 says, "But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus." There is so much in life to trip us up, make us fall, cause us to think we are of little use to anyone anymore, make us believe we can't finish the race. Then our precious coach, Jesus Christ, through the Holy Spirit, comes running to us, takes us by the hand, and says, "Come on. We'll run the race together. I will never leave you or forsake you. You will make it to the finish line where there is a prize awaiting you."
You don't have to be the strongest runner, or the fastest. You don't have to finish first. You just have to run the race with your little hand in His big hand until you reach the finish line. There He will declare, "Well done, my good and faithful servant!"
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Things Are Different Now
The past few weeks have been quite stressful with my husband in the hospital twice and other family stresses. I really needed a vacation day. It seemed my own house would be the best place to take my little one day vacation, and so I did.
I began the day sitting in my overstuffed chair, feet up and Lily napping on my lap, my Bible open to the verses Ken had preached from on Sunday. I was happy to receive some new insights as I read, nothing really earth shaking, but good.
I decided some music would be good while I looked at e-mail and balanced my checkbook. (Not exactly a vacation thing to do.) At first I thought Christmas music would be nice. There was no one around to say it's too early for Christmas music. But, as I reached for a Christmas CD, the title on the spine of another CD caught my eye, "The Love Concert." Perfect! Nostalgia, inspiration, and fun all wrapped up in one little package. You see, this is a recording of the Rock Island First Church of the Nazarene youth choir, with my good friend, Fred Kelley, my sister, Ruth, and me singing about the love of God. The concert was the teen missionary project for 1972 to raise money for renovations at a home in California for retired missionaries.
First I heard Rev. Don Tyler welcoming the crowd. I remember it being a packed house. Then he called on my dad, Rev. Joe Hirst, to pray. I listened to my dad's voice as he talked to God, invoking His blessing on the evening's activities. He has been in heaven since 1976. It was so good to hear his voice! Then the music began.
The youth choir started the program with a good old Gaither tune. I thought about some of those young people who I loved dearly. They were in their early to middle teen years then. Now they are all in their late 40's or early 50's! Unbelievable!
I heard a young woman's voice saying something about God's love, then a piano introduction, and a clear, strong female voice began to sing, "If That Isn't Love." I recognized the voice immediately! It was me! And, may I just take the liberty of saying, it was beautiful.
Without warning, and with no self control, I began to sob. I didn't mean to, and I didn't want to, but I could not stop myself. It came from someplace so deep within me I had no idea that place even existed. "God!" I cried, "I can't do that any more! This disease I have is robbing me of my abilities to do some of those things I love to do! I hate this disease! Please let me do some of these things again!" Even now a lump comes in my throat and tears threaten to spill over as I remember yesterday. Many yesterdays! Yesterdays when Fred and I sang together before he and Phylis went home to be with the Lord. Yesterdays when Ruth's beautiful soprano voice wasn't affected by Lyme's Disease, nor was my voice experiencing the tightening of my throat muscles from Parkinson's medication.
Things are different now. I was 27 then. Now I'm 64. I didn't even know what Parkinson's Disease was then. Now I live with it daily. All my close friends were living and we were having wonderful Christian fellowship and ministry together. Now many of them are walking the streets of gold waiting for the arrival of those of us left behind. My investment in heaven is becoming greater as time goes by.
There is something to be said for looking back. However, Paul reminds us in Philippians 3:12-14, that we need to forget what is behind and press on toward the goal to win the prize God has waiting for us. We'll talk about that next time.
I began the day sitting in my overstuffed chair, feet up and Lily napping on my lap, my Bible open to the verses Ken had preached from on Sunday. I was happy to receive some new insights as I read, nothing really earth shaking, but good.
I decided some music would be good while I looked at e-mail and balanced my checkbook. (Not exactly a vacation thing to do.) At first I thought Christmas music would be nice. There was no one around to say it's too early for Christmas music. But, as I reached for a Christmas CD, the title on the spine of another CD caught my eye, "The Love Concert." Perfect! Nostalgia, inspiration, and fun all wrapped up in one little package. You see, this is a recording of the Rock Island First Church of the Nazarene youth choir, with my good friend, Fred Kelley, my sister, Ruth, and me singing about the love of God. The concert was the teen missionary project for 1972 to raise money for renovations at a home in California for retired missionaries.
First I heard Rev. Don Tyler welcoming the crowd. I remember it being a packed house. Then he called on my dad, Rev. Joe Hirst, to pray. I listened to my dad's voice as he talked to God, invoking His blessing on the evening's activities. He has been in heaven since 1976. It was so good to hear his voice! Then the music began.
The youth choir started the program with a good old Gaither tune. I thought about some of those young people who I loved dearly. They were in their early to middle teen years then. Now they are all in their late 40's or early 50's! Unbelievable!
I heard a young woman's voice saying something about God's love, then a piano introduction, and a clear, strong female voice began to sing, "If That Isn't Love." I recognized the voice immediately! It was me! And, may I just take the liberty of saying, it was beautiful.
Without warning, and with no self control, I began to sob. I didn't mean to, and I didn't want to, but I could not stop myself. It came from someplace so deep within me I had no idea that place even existed. "God!" I cried, "I can't do that any more! This disease I have is robbing me of my abilities to do some of those things I love to do! I hate this disease! Please let me do some of these things again!" Even now a lump comes in my throat and tears threaten to spill over as I remember yesterday. Many yesterdays! Yesterdays when Fred and I sang together before he and Phylis went home to be with the Lord. Yesterdays when Ruth's beautiful soprano voice wasn't affected by Lyme's Disease, nor was my voice experiencing the tightening of my throat muscles from Parkinson's medication.
Things are different now. I was 27 then. Now I'm 64. I didn't even know what Parkinson's Disease was then. Now I live with it daily. All my close friends were living and we were having wonderful Christian fellowship and ministry together. Now many of them are walking the streets of gold waiting for the arrival of those of us left behind. My investment in heaven is becoming greater as time goes by.
There is something to be said for looking back. However, Paul reminds us in Philippians 3:12-14, that we need to forget what is behind and press on toward the goal to win the prize God has waiting for us. We'll talk about that next time.
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