How do you run a race without a finish line? If there's no end in sight, nothing to strive for, how do you find the motivation within to keep moving endlessly toward that mysteriously moving line? These are the questions I find myself contemplating these last two days as our family still waits for clarity, finality, peace. As each new day dawns, and the finish line that was thought to be there fades into nothingness, moving forward feels impossible at times.
For the last seventeen months, life has thrown us curve ball after curve ball until we've landed where we are today. What was supposed to be 365 days turned into 519 days and counting. Every extra day has become a precious jewel that that I stash away in the memory of my heart. Every snuggle, every hug, every kiss, every "I love you" is cherished and not taken for granted. As I'm sitting here while the kids are napping, I keep asking myself: How am I going to keep it together for them? How do I keep things as normal and healthy as possible so that they aren't feeling the extra stress and anxiety that I feel? The only answer that I can think of is by practicing mindfulness--of living in this moment of this day and not allowing myself to think of the days or moments to come. This is harder to practice than it is to preach.
My dear friend just stopped by the house. I hadn't seen her since she had received a diagnosis of stage 4 colon cancer. She's a mom of two boys and just an all-around amazing person to have in your corner. She's the kind of person that spreads positive thoughts as if she's planting seeds in a well-cared for garden. (And don't worry, she'll come back and water them, too!) Before she left, I asked her how she was really doing with all of it, and she said that she could honestly say she was neutral right now and that neutral was a great place to be. While she wasn't crazy optimistic with all of the facts laid out before her, she was also not "living in her diagnosis". It struck me that I have been doing exactly that the last three days--living in the diagnosis of not having answers, of the unknown, of the possibility of losing the little man at any moment. I had been choosing to live in anger, fear, resentment, and anxiety, and it was taking its toll on all of us.
If this joyful lady could stand before me knowing she had a time-stamp on her life and her time with her young family, and she could still say that she wasn't living day-to-day with her focus being the actual time-stamp, then I needed to greatly re-evaluate my focus as well. If I can mindfully enjoy every minute of the day I actually do have with the little man, I will be happier in those moments and he (and his sister) will be happier as a result. If I can forget that there's an unknown finish line waiting out there, then we can take detours off the beaten path and organically experience life together. If I live my day-to-day life with the purpose of making the both of them feel happy, safe, and loved, no matter the circumstances that surround my family, then I will have successfully lived for that day. If I look at each day as a step down the path of this crazy race called life, then I am walking to the end of the race with a purpose and meaning in each day (and who likes running any way??)
That's actually me at the head of the pack running into the water. The people who didn't have sleeves on their wetsuits were crazy, because it was COLD!
As a triathlete, the races I enjoyed the most were the ones that I didn't care about the time or my stats and just enjoyed the sights, the sounds, and the experiences of completing a triathlon. I walked a lot of my favorite triathlons just so that I could extend my experience! I remember one race in particular: it was an early fall day right before the start of a new school year. I knew that this would be the last chance I would have to be outside doing this for another year, and while I was on the bike leg, a thought occurred to me. Why am I rushing through this beautiful morning and experience? I am not taking in any of the gorgeous landscape, the color of the leaves, the sun just beginning to wake up, or the chill in the air. I'm racing past it all. It was that moment that I decided to slow down and enjoy this last taste of freedom before I had to return to work. I have never enjoyed a triathlon more than that one. I decided to walk the running leg, and my training partners all kept urging me to run and kept saying, "You can do it!" I knew I could do it--that wasn't the issue. I didn't want to go fast that day. I wanted to enjoy every second of the beauty of that race.
I have forgotten how to savor the moment and have been focusing too much on the stats and the time. Forget the finish line! It's all of the steps that lead to the finish line that get a person across it. Today, I'm choosing to focus on those steps and make every one of our days count. I choose to breathe in the beauty of our experiences together. I choose to be mindful and not to "live in our diagnosis". Ultimately, I choose freedom.
(Featured picture courtesy of pixabay.com)