Long Slow Distance

I had run this loop before, the stiff steep rolling hills that seem to go on forever.  As I approached another slope last Saturday morning, I could not even contemplate the whole hill.  But I've been here in this impossible place before.  I knew to put my head down and take one step at a time.  I knew if I looked up and saw how endless the hill appeared, I would stop.  And so I watched only the pavement immediately before my feet, following the cracks, the rough places, a pothole or two, the slightest turning of its edges, and took one step and then another.  I reached the ridge and kept on going.

It was not endless after all.

That is what endurance does.  It does not level the elevation and make it easier, but breaks up the mileage into steps, holding on just a little longer.  When it gets too much, well, I can reach that next curve or tree.  And then, well another, a little bit more.

When I resumed running, now some 20 years ago, I could barely reach the end of the block without stopping.  "Do you think you can run for two minutes?" one of our daughters asked me.  Sure.  That seemed do-able.  And so, she set my watch to beep at two minute intervals.  I would run two minutes, beep, walk two minutes, beep, and start running again.  Gradually, I was able to go a longer distance.

Each day a little stronger.  Even now, even in the midst of this crisis.  Every day is a story of God's faithfulness.  Every hour. Even in this very moment.

Last Saturday, as I faced that final daunting hill on my run,  I knew I just had to get up to the next slightly level spot, that landing of sorts, the next curve, that next tree, keep going, keep going.  Put  my head down and pace myself.

What we all face right now is not a race.  This difficulty is not a sprint, but a long slow distance.  It will not be over tomorrow.  Not even next week.  We are in this for the long haul.  That is what builds strength, endurance and resilience, even for what we are not yet aware.

It is time for different patterns.  It is time for a different pace.  The days at home may seem endless, but we can do something.  That one thing to get us going -- even emptying the dishwasher -- will lead to another.  There are no insignificant things.  No small steps.

And God will provide for the next.

One of my favorite books is Darlene Deibler Rose's memoir Evidence Not Seen in which as a very young woman, she endured solitary confinement in a Japanese prison camp during World War 2.  I was reminded of her remarkable story this morning.  In the course of the book, she wrote:

Deep in my heart He whispered, “I’m here.  Even when you don’t see Me, I’m here.  Never for a moment are you out of My sight.”

I am reminded too of God's promises written thousands of years ago in the Psalms, inscribed even for us, even for today.  

Blessed be the Lord,

   who daily bears us up.

God is our salvation.

   

               Psalm 68. 19