Marathon

It's Sunday morning, and outside it is gray and raining. I am sitting on our couch together with my 9-year-old son. I'm on my laptop; he's on his tablet. We're sharing a blanket so I can fell he the heat from his skinny, little body; how is it possible that this little shrimp of mine, with 0% bodyfat, is always so warm??

I know a mother on the other side of the globe. She's a friend, and a fantastic woman. I've known her since we were preteens. She's been in my thoughts all night long. She, too, has a little boy, even younger than mine.

Now my cursor is just blinking at me, urging me to continue.

It seems they've discovered her child has a brain tumor, and their lives will never be the same again.

If just typing those words is enough to scare the daylights out of me (and trust me, my ego is madly coaxing me to delete the above sentence), what can she and her family possibly be experiencing?

The other night my husband and I were about to watch "Along Came Polly..." on TV. That's pretty much the only kind of movie I can handle nowadays. Before the movie began, an ad for an upcoming documentary was shown; it was about bullying from the young victims' point of view. For me, it was 30 seconds of heartbreak as I nearly started crying for two reasons: the unfairness of it all, and my inability to just grab onto those kids and hold them like there's no tomorrow.

That's exactly how I am feeling now, except the tragedy is happening to someone I both know and care deeply about. But what can I possibly do to relieve their burden? Is there anyway to alleviate such pain, even for a moment?

All I can think to say is that this mom has one quality that I don't have. She's a long distance runner (while her feet might have another opinion, that's her passion and a large part of who she is). See, I've never had that. I remember when I first came to Sweden and was invited to go on walks outdoors, my first thoughts were, "Where are we going?" and "When we will get there?". Long distance runners aren't like that. They take on the challenge of pushing their limits, and the most successful ones are the ones who acknowledge the difficulty, the pain, and yet they go on.

The great ones know that it's about continuing to put one foot in front of the other.

I'm here for you, SJ.