On long training runs, I am at the mercy of operable drinking fountains in libraries and parks and how many Snickers I can shove in the teeny pocket of my running shorts. But at the actual marathon, volunteers stand at strategically-positioned aid stations throughout the course. Arms extended, they call out “water” or “Gatorade,” depending on what fluid they hold in those little Dixie cups. Runners swiftly pass by, silently grabbing this sustenance as they run, the liquid often sloshing onto volunteers’ hands and shoes. For a few blocks, the pavement will be sticky and covered with discarded cups. In large marathons, garden rakes are necessary to clear the streets of litter.
These volunteers are thankless heroes. They set up, most often in the early morning dark, pour thousands of cups of liquid, and never stand on the awards platform. But we couldn’t run very far without them.
In my most recent soggy marathon in March, the volunteers – mostly runners themselves – stood in the pouring rain and chilly temperatures for six hours or more, faithfully handing out Gatorade, Fig Newtons, and words of encouragement. The folding tables were placed about two and a half miles apart, including one perched like a Civil War hospital tent at the infamous “valley of despair,” where the bridge was blown out on the course. At times in the race, I could not wrap my mind around how much farther to the finish line, but I knew I could make it to the next water stop for a few sips and a friendly face, sometimes all I needed to spur me on.
God also strategically places “aid stations” when I need them most in the everydays of life. There are seasons when all of us are slugging down roads too long, days too short, and loads that we were never meant to carry alone. And when I most need and least expect it, there is often and quite suddenly an encouraging note, a brilliant sunset, a surprise email from a distant friend, or someone coming alongside to run a few minutes of life with me. Thank you for being there for me. You may not have even realized the difference that you made. “Who are the people who have influenced us most? Certainly not the ones who thought they did, but those who did not have even the slightest idea that they were influencing us,” says Oswald Chambers in his book My Utmost for His Highest.
But there is another side of the equation-- my responsibility to those God has placed on my path. The basis for the word “opportunity” is a “timely harbor,” a favorable opening which may never happen again. It is an occasion that invites immediate action, not done out of duty but from love. Some needs are more obvious than others, the means to fill them both visible and invisible. Even a hidden act of kindness always and eventually bears fruit. And so, God provides those opportunities when I need to be that aid station in someone’s life, a port in a storm to extend a kindness to another, perhaps not offering Gatorade, but a good word, a needful action, and grace. Our influence is never neutral. Even when it may not make sense from where I am standing in eternity, that smallest kindness may be the most profound of all. A cup of cold water can change the world.
God is changing my eyes. God is changing my heart.
Do not withhold good from those to whom it is due,
when it is in your power to do it.
Proverbs 3.27
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