I do not mean for this blog to become a series of responses to tragedies, but I should not go on without mentioning the Boston Marathon bombings. As you probably know if you read this blog, my husband, Matt, is a marathoner. He has run five marathons to date, and I am immensely proud of him. Running a marathon is a test of physical and mental endurance; not only must the body be capable of running 26.2 miles, the mind must be capable of pushing the body to that capability in spite of doubt, exhaustion, or pain.
Matt took the news of the Boston bombings pretty hard. He came home stunned and, frankly, rather cranky. When the kids went to sleep, I asked him to talk about it, and he spoke about how finishing a marathon is a very intense experience. He was disgusted that someone would attack that moment of celebration. He was also disturbed because he could remember each of his finishes vividly, and he could imagine the horror of a blast in those moments and the anxiety he would have felt for his family somewhere out in the crowd.
By choice, I read a minimum of news and watch none, so I do not know why the marathon was the target of this attack, and I am not very interested in speculation. It does not determine my response. I do not want to dwell on the hate that motivated the act; I want to dwell on the love that can address it.
To honor the injured runners, I think that we can all go out and challenge ourselves. Turn off the cable news coverage of this or whatever controversy or tragedy has since taken its place and find something to grapple with, something to push your comfort zone, something to stretch your abilities. If there is something you have always wanted to learn, go learn it. If you already pursue something, pursue excellence in it. Knit. Paint. Volunteer where you care. Learn another language. Learn an instrument. Scuba dive. Sky dive. Run. I am not talking about checking something off of a “bucket list” because life is short. I am talking about saluting those wounded during a feat of endurance by demonstrating endurance. I think I want to run a race. I think that it would be a fitting statement of solidarity if this coming year were to see a spike in the number of entrants in running events- from family fun 5Ks to marathons. I want to run in defiance of hate and in defiance of fear. I want to be, in my own small way, like a marathoner, indomitable.
But many of those injured and all of those killed were not running the race that day. They were watching. To honor them, practice encouragement. Many were in the crowd to watch a particular friend or family member. Pay attention to those close to you; listen to them; talk to them; cheer them on. It’s easy to think of a parent watching a child at a ballgame or recital, but it need not be so formal. Matt was an excellent spectator while I prepared for comps--even though there was nothing to spectate. He did not sit and watch me read (how boring), but he took the kids whenever he could; he drove me to the library; he made me tea and hot chocolate; he let me talk to him to get my ideas straight. It would have been a very different experience for me without him. So be interested in what your friends and family are up to. Notice. Be attentive, and encourage them however you can. Notice others also. Those who watch a marathon for their specific runner nevertheless cheer for all who pass by, and some watch with no specific runner to begin with. There are people struggling and celebrating all around us. If you have a chance to be encouraging to a stranger, take it.
I don’t know that I have ever stopped to think about what a lovely word “encourage” is. Encouragement is often listed in Christian circles as a spiritual gift, and I have heard at least two sermons on Paul and Barnabas where Barnabas is praised for being an encourager, but I still felt like it was sort of patting Barnabas on the head while leaving him firmly in Paul’s shadow. I have also always felt like the “encouragers” given as contemporary examples were women while the “doers” were men. But if you look at the word, to “encourage” is not just to say something nice. It is to give courage. It’s hard to give what you don’t have in the first place, so to say that someone is an encourager does not mean that they sit in the background rubbing the shoulders of those strong enough to act. It means that they are sources of strength and sustenance--bearers and sharers of the will to overcome challenges. Marathoners are awesome. So are their encouragers. By challenging ourselves and supporting those around us, we can honor both.
Matt took the news of the Boston bombings pretty hard. He came home stunned and, frankly, rather cranky. When the kids went to sleep, I asked him to talk about it, and he spoke about how finishing a marathon is a very intense experience. He was disgusted that someone would attack that moment of celebration. He was also disturbed because he could remember each of his finishes vividly, and he could imagine the horror of a blast in those moments and the anxiety he would have felt for his family somewhere out in the crowd.
By choice, I read a minimum of news and watch none, so I do not know why the marathon was the target of this attack, and I am not very interested in speculation. It does not determine my response. I do not want to dwell on the hate that motivated the act; I want to dwell on the love that can address it.
To honor the injured runners, I think that we can all go out and challenge ourselves. Turn off the cable news coverage of this or whatever controversy or tragedy has since taken its place and find something to grapple with, something to push your comfort zone, something to stretch your abilities. If there is something you have always wanted to learn, go learn it. If you already pursue something, pursue excellence in it. Knit. Paint. Volunteer where you care. Learn another language. Learn an instrument. Scuba dive. Sky dive. Run. I am not talking about checking something off of a “bucket list” because life is short. I am talking about saluting those wounded during a feat of endurance by demonstrating endurance. I think I want to run a race. I think that it would be a fitting statement of solidarity if this coming year were to see a spike in the number of entrants in running events- from family fun 5Ks to marathons. I want to run in defiance of hate and in defiance of fear. I want to be, in my own small way, like a marathoner, indomitable.
But many of those injured and all of those killed were not running the race that day. They were watching. To honor them, practice encouragement. Many were in the crowd to watch a particular friend or family member. Pay attention to those close to you; listen to them; talk to them; cheer them on. It’s easy to think of a parent watching a child at a ballgame or recital, but it need not be so formal. Matt was an excellent spectator while I prepared for comps--even though there was nothing to spectate. He did not sit and watch me read (how boring), but he took the kids whenever he could; he drove me to the library; he made me tea and hot chocolate; he let me talk to him to get my ideas straight. It would have been a very different experience for me without him. So be interested in what your friends and family are up to. Notice. Be attentive, and encourage them however you can. Notice others also. Those who watch a marathon for their specific runner nevertheless cheer for all who pass by, and some watch with no specific runner to begin with. There are people struggling and celebrating all around us. If you have a chance to be encouraging to a stranger, take it.
I don’t know that I have ever stopped to think about what a lovely word “encourage” is. Encouragement is often listed in Christian circles as a spiritual gift, and I have heard at least two sermons on Paul and Barnabas where Barnabas is praised for being an encourager, but I still felt like it was sort of patting Barnabas on the head while leaving him firmly in Paul’s shadow. I have also always felt like the “encouragers” given as contemporary examples were women while the “doers” were men. But if you look at the word, to “encourage” is not just to say something nice. It is to give courage. It’s hard to give what you don’t have in the first place, so to say that someone is an encourager does not mean that they sit in the background rubbing the shoulders of those strong enough to act. It means that they are sources of strength and sustenance--bearers and sharers of the will to overcome challenges. Marathoners are awesome. So are their encouragers. By challenging ourselves and supporting those around us, we can honor both.
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