Tuesday, February 3, 2015

Sidelines Are Where It's At.

I got an email from Donald Miller yesterday.  Not like a real email from him, like one that said something along the lines of, "I have a new book coming out tomorrow, order it now and I'll give you free stuff."  It would be super cool to get a real email from him since he's one of my biggest writing heroes, and I want to be like him when I grow up, but that's not the point.  The point is that because I've read every book he's published, I feel like I know him.  I feel like he's my friend.

It IS a weird friendship to be sure.  More like a strange one-sided pen-pal relationship where he keeps writing, and I think, "Yeah!  Me too, Don.  I never thought about it like that, Don."

And now he has a new book out called, Scary Close.  I haven't read it yet because it just came out today, and I, of course, am not his ACTUAL friend, so he did not give me an advanced copy.  (Come on, Don!  We go way back!)  But from what I gather, it's about intimacy and belonging: things he's been chasing after and running away from since his first book.  He's been telling stories of yearning to belong, yearning to be close, yearning for a family.  He's been telling MY story.

It feels like this book is big for him, like he has finally figured out so many things he struggled with for so long.  It feels like... he has arrived.

It is as though he has been running this crazy more-intense-than-an-iron-man race where he has invited me to come watch.  Sometimes he's crying in the first aide tent nursing his wounds, other times he's pushing to the front of the pack with a smile on his face.  Regardless, I show up on these different legs of his journey to stand and wave and clap and allow my eyes to fill with tears as my "friend" crosses the finish line, as he runs all sweaty into the arms of his-- I'm sure very patient and lovely wife while God smiles and says, "Atta boy, Don!"

And while it feels very much like an ending, I know this is just where one race is ending and another is beginning for him, but in every one of his books, I feel like one of many many people standing on the sidelines cheering and wooohooing him towards that next step.

And I want to be like that for every important person in my life.  I want to be the person that always shows up, over and over and over again, in the rain or desert heat... who by just standing there says, "What you're doing is really hard but really worth it, and I believe in you.  I love you whether you're the first to finish or the last and no matter whether you're crying and hyperventilating on the side of the road or smiling out in front of all the other runners, I'll be here.  I'll show up for you."

I want to be that for my kids, my husband, my friends.

But most of the time, I'm more like the obnoxious fan flailing and shouting, "Go faster! Turn here, you moron!  Why on earth would you do that?!"

This is not great parenting or friendshipping or wifing.

These people in my life are running a REALLY hard race, and the race itself has enough hardships and pitfalls and obstacles without having to listen to someone who claims to be supportive tell them how to run a race they only think they know something about... Because I.DON'T.KNOW. their race.  I might know some of it, but I don't REALLY know.

At the same time, I am running my very own race too.  I am pushing hard and crying in the first aide tent, nursing blisters and aching joints-- but when I look over on the sidelines and see my kids, my husband, my friends, my family clapping and woohooing, their eyes welling up with tears of pride at how far I've come, I can push forward.  I can sleep less and power through the stormy days.

But if I'm only running my own race and I'm never on the sidelines, I miss out on something just as cool as accomplishing my own dreams.  When I'm a fan/coach/support staff, I show up.  I watch.  I cheer.  And I let people I care about run their own races.  And as much as I would LOVE to run those races for them, to not watch the tears and the blisters, I must let them run their own races.

My kids, my husband, my friends, they all have their own race to run.  I have my own race to run.  I must both allow them to run their own race... and allow myself to run my own race.  I can't give up on my race or take their race from them.  We will sometimes merge paths and run together, and sometimes I'll pause my race to cheer on my husband or friends or kids.  And sometimes they'll pause their race to cheer me on.

I've been wasting a lot of time being a selfish racer and a bitter washed-up has-been fan lately.  It's time to lace up my shoes and run with my people, but it's also time to recognize the opportunities on the sidelines.  Because supporting someone when they accomplish their dream is just as amazing as surprising yourself by actually accomplishing your own.

Keep running, friends.  Keep on running.


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