My sister-in-law, Sheila, was one such person who left an indelible word for my life. She passed away last week after a long battle with cancer, and she was one of the sweetest women I have ever met. Her smile was infectious. I can close my eyes and hear her laughing. However, there was no doubt she was going through a lot of stresses and struggles a few years ago when she told me, "It's been really rough lately, but I'm trying to remember to guard my heart and not let the root of bitterness get in."
And like that her words became seared in memory. Guard my heart. Proverbs 4:23. I knew that verse, but hearing it again was so very aptly timed. Whether Sheila knew it or not, that's just what I needed for just that season and in just that way.
Anyone who knows me well knows that I have had a very large struggle with my faith in the past few years. So much so, I questioned whether I even believed in God. I can't quite convey what it's like to go from belief to the edge of unbelief, but it's akin to teetering on the precipice of a monster black hole inside a monster galaxy inside a universe. It's beyond lonely, and I did not like it, not one little bit. But my mind kept circling there on that precipice with great wings of disappointment, disillusionment, and disgust. During that time (a few years?), I rarely ever prayed. I just couldn't get it out. On the few occasions I did, I prayed only two things: Lord sustain me through this and please help me guard my heart. Sheila's words from God, and that's it.
God is merciful. Slowly, but surely, the acorn buried deep in the snow, took root and began to grow. Even now it's scarcely a seedling, but it rejoices in the spring because it knows winter. I don't ever want to return to that precipice, but I'm grateful beyond measure that I was there. And I'm grateful beyond measure for a beautiful sister-in-law who became my conduit to God.
Yes, this is a quasi-running blog. A marathon preparation blog at that. Since the moment I began training, I knew I wanted to dedicate my 26.2 mile race to Sheila. Every time I pulled out of my driveway at 6:25 on some cold Saturday morning for my long run, I thought of her. Every mile of aching injury I'd feel, I'd be reminded of her painful struggle with cancer. To the end, she fought the good fight, she saw the prize set before her, and she finished her race. She won. A marathon is the representation of life. I have such peace that I'm truly living life as me, and I believe Sheila did too. And that's contentment right there.
I run because I'm happy,
I run because I'm free,
For His eye is on the sparrow,
And I know He watches me.
I try to remember that passion looks like craziness to those who don't share it. ~ Jan Stuckey (my mom)
