{{item.title | uppercase}}

{{item.authdes}}

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.
Hebrews 12:1,2 (ESV)

On January 22, I hopped on my bike for a quick ride alongside Kenny as he finished his run.

It was on that run when Kenny died. A few days later I gave my bike away and stored my running shoes out of sight.

After seven months, I wanted to start exercising again. Oddly enough, I had no idea where I put my shoes, but they were definitely out of my field of view.

What I could find, even in the dark, were Kenny’s running shoes. These shoes are kept along with a few other items in a box —symbols of my loss that helped me through my grieving process.

These shoes were the last earthy connection to Kenny that I had.

In fact, right there in the hospital on that awful day, I actually cut a piece of its shoestring to use for securing a locket of his hair. I remember my eyes roving about the sterile, cold room with an incessant flow of hot tears dripping onto my shirt looking for something to tie the golden lock of hair with. Seemed like an irrational choice, but in hindsight, there was also nothing else more appropriate.

And now, what in the world will I do with the stale-smelling runners? I will keep them for when I need to smell his scent after a long and successful run.

Another oddity I have kept nestled away is the cuff from the jacket I was wearing that day.

I noticed the streak of blood. Taking my jacket sleeve, I gently wiped it away. I knew that was something I would never have again. How many times I pulled those items out and wept as I cradled them; I held on to them because they still contained his smell, sweat, and blood.

As our children and I continue living and pressing further into the Word of God, we are healing. This isn’t to say that I don’t still have moments when the tears flow freely but for me, these tears are no longer salty and bitter; they are a sweet release of the Love of Jesus that has manifested by restoring not only my heart, but my nature-my spirit, soul, and my body.

I suppose the significance of the way I used to cling to these oddities is simply the contrast between emotional grief and spiritual trust. I NEVER ONCE STOPPED CONFESSING AND BELIEVING THE WORD and I never will. But there were dozens of times I grasped the sweat-stained shoes and inhaled every inch of the uniform shirt he last wore to work. Many of those times I had to put the articles away because I was afraid my tears would drown out the aroma of the precious man I adored. I’ve come to realize and appreciate the mementos that are tucked away in that treasure chest for the times I need to see, touch and smell them. But the time in between is becoming longer and longer.

And now I return, not just to the memory of our runs, but to running itself.

This morning marked another “first”. Today was the first day I worked out since my bike ride back on that sunny, January day.

And for tomorrow’s workout?… I will joyfully dust off my running shoes because I have a race to finish.

Father, I thank You for Your grace, and Your empowerment to get my sisters and me through today and all that is ahead. And I pray that if there is anyone reading this that doesn’t know You as her Lord, she would surrender her life to You right now. Thank You for being our Healer and Comforter. And thank You for restoring our hearts and making all things new. Amen