Even when you think there's no possibility of beauty.
I ran a 5K on Saturday morning, and I have to admit that I was not too thrilled about it when I woke up that morning. It was 30-something degrees and raining pretty hard, and the thought of driving out to my hometown and getting soaked to the bone just didn't seem appealing for some reason.
But there was more to this day than the race.
A little more than a year ago, tragedy struck my most beloved suburb when a teenage boy died in a lake accident. He was a very well-loved young man and someone who had a lot of impact on not just his peers but on the community, as well. I remember reading and hearing stories about how the entire city came together to support one another—even rivalry football teams had shown respect at games in support of a town that was grieving deeply.
My parents still live in my hometown, and, even if I'm no longer there, I will always still feel a strong connection to it. It's where I learned the true meaning of friendship and community, and Saturday morning was an even stronger lesson in how love can make even the darkest of times seem more bearable.
Especially when the dancing started.
As I mentioned, the weather was miserable. But, despite the conditions, there was an unexplainable joy that filled the entire pavilion under which many people were crowded as they tried to avoid getting drenched before the race. There was music playing on the speakers where the announcer was, and at some point an endless dancing by a group of high schoolers began and made the event seem even more like a joyous celebration. It was cold. It was wet. There was no amount of sunshine anywhere in sight.
But genuine hearts full of love brightened up the entire park that morning.
Quite normally at races, as I find myself in my own little realm of anxiety, one can look around and see people in their own worlds, as well, as they warm up and stretch and do strides and keep the focus on success as soon as they hit the start line. But that wasn't the case on Saturday. No one was stretching. No one was warming up. No one seemed to care about running a blazing fast race or notching a PR or getting a medal as evidence of how accomplished he or she is. The focus, rather, was on coming together for a cause that's so much bigger than running.
After Jacob's death, his family developed a heart for orphans and decided to honor Jacob by helping young men in Africa who need homes. Through Jacob's LifeVision Home at Family Legacy's Tree of Life Children's Village in Zambia, the family hopes to be able to provide a place where boys can be mentored and provided for before leaving high school and entering college or whatever their lives hold for them beyond the orphanage. All of the proceeds from the run went toward making this dream become reality, and we learned Saturday that enough funds were raised to begin building one of two houses there.
Before the race, a local pastor led everyone in a prayer, and he mentioned how he thought it was fitting that the weather was so crummy that morning, as it was one more example of how God can still bring great things in the midst of tragedy. Even though the conditions were horrible, there were still quite a lot of people who gave up the opportunities to stay cuddled in warm beds or sipping hot cocoa by fireplaces so that they could come and be in the cold rain all morning with people who needed them more than they might realize.
As I looked around me, I couldn't help but feel a warmth in my heart at being reminded of how big our God truly is. I can't imagine what it feels like for Jacob's family to lose a son and a brother; I don't know what it's like for those teenagers to lose a friend who influenced them in so many ways; as a teacher, I've thankfully never had to come to my classroom each day and look at an empty seat where a student won't ever sit again. But I know what it means to hurt, and I know what it feels like to be able to press through hard times with a little help from those around you. I don't pretend to understand why certain tragic events occur, but I do know that God doesn't do anything on accident. We simply have to trust our lives in His hands while He works in them and through us.
After the race, you didn't hear people complaining about how wet they were or how running through shin-deep water slowed them down or how they didn't have a great race. Instead, you saw people smiling and high-fiving and thanking others for being there to support the family and the foundation. It made you forget how ugly the morning around you was, because you were suddenly enveloped with the beauty of the love that dominated it all.
Mourning can truly turn to joy, and we are able to see radiance take over the darkness as the promise of beauty for ashes heals even the most broken of hearts.
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