|
Short Stories To
Read On One
Accord |
The Prize by Myrna Roberts June 1, 2002 When my daughter, Ashley, was born,
she was considered a premy and at high risk.
The experts were concerned that her lungs weren't mature enough to
sustain life in this world. I refused
to believe she was puny because I'd experienced her strong kick for
months. The moment of truth came when
the caesarian birth process began.
While the process was important, my point is that once the doctor cut
my stomach and swished some organs around, Ashley popped right into the
world, eyes wide open and apparently very aware of her surroundings. I saw the pain of birth register on her
face when she breathed the first breath of God into her lungs. Her eyes and fist closed tightly and then
angrily she squawked so loudly that I knew greatness was a part of her
future. Her birth weight was less than the
other babies, but she was real tall and wiry. When the nurse placed her in my arms we cried together. She cried because birth is painful, I
cried because I was so proud of her. I
saw lots of character and courage in her struggle against the air. Her strength was obvious to all who saw
her birth. She was destined for
greatness. That was ten years ago. Today, after only 3 days of practice,
Ashley participated in her first track meet.
Early in the day, she placed third in a sprint that only the strongest
contenders qualified to run in. I was
the proudest of all the moms because I knew that all the other children had
more running experience. With more
practice and a dash of humility, Ashley would soon be a champion also. The
real challenge came later in the day when the 400-meter dash was called. Ashley set herself into the blocks in lane
5, my eyes beamed, and my heart palpitations increased as an old familiar
feeling engulfed me as I was reminded of when I ran track years ago. I stood up and leaned forward in anxious
anticipation – waiting to hear the sound of the starting gun blast. Suddenly the gun blasted and they were
off! Her form and gazelle-like stride
were world-class and she held her own for the first 100 meters. During the second 100 meters, the more
experienced runners started to pull ahead and I saw Ashley's facial
expression when she realized that everyone was ahead of her. In the third 100 meters, her kick was
still pronounced but she was getting tired.
The other runners were really turning on the power around the bend for
the final stretch and my baby was clutching her side. Personal experience told me that her lungs
were burning because her breathing was out of sync. The expression on her face was just like the day she was born
when she took that first breath. She
was angry and about to cry. Her brain
shouted, "Stop running!" But her heart and legs didn't know how to
quit -- her kick was still real strong. She crossed the finish line in sixth
place, frustrated and disappointed in herself. I
wanted to run to her aid but my spirit made me stay in the bleachers and wait
patiently for her. I could tell
Ashley didn't want to face me but she had no other place to go. She came right to my arms and together we
cried. She cried because the birth
of great character is painful. I
cried because I was so proud of my little premy. No words could explain to the "little woman-child"
the beauty of what I saw in her today.
My words fell on deaf ears, but somehow, on some level, she understood
my tears. And
so it is with our Heavenly Father and His children. We are reminded by the Apostle Paul in Phil 3:14 to "press
toward the mark for a prize of the high calling of God in Christ
Jesus." Sometimes when we press
forward, we win a spiritual prize but we are looking for a blue ribbon. The ribbon will soon fade away but the
spiritual prize holds for us an inheritance, a birthright that we can pass to
our children and our children's children. The next time you experience
pain so great that it drives you to tears, look to your Heavenly Father -- He
may have tears of joy over your spiritual triumph. |
|
|
|
