Wednesday, March 31, 2010


Today is late start which I'd go so far as to say I abhor. It's an entire extra hour for the kids to sit around and our peaceful morning always unravels in the last ten minutes before the bus comes. My kids do not sleep in just because they have the chance to, so inevitably the morning will end with someone crying, getting in trouble or dashing to catch the bus even though they've been sitting around doing NOTHING for three hours. Today was no exception to the rule and I found myself, hair soaking wet from my shower, leaving Paige in the house crying because she wanted to come to the bus but was still in her pajamas, and sprinting after my three kids who catch the bus. Paige decided to make a break for it anyway but got flustered trying to open the door and inadvertently locked us out of the house. We have a key hidden somewhere but I've never taken the time to ask Curt where the secret spot is and I had no phone to call him, so away we went to borrow my neighbor's phone. Her son and Paige welcomed the chance to play together and before I knew it, I was in my house and child-free.

My original plan was to go to the gym but since running on the treadmill is a verifiable form of torture for me, I opted instead to go for a run outside. This weekend, I ran the same course with horrible results. My right knee, which I have named "Juanita" (pun intended), did not cooperate and I ended up walking quite a bit. I wasn't sure what to expect this morning, but my knee held up great and I was able to run all 4.6 miles without stopping to walk. Since I was feeling good, I pushed myself to try to maintain an 8 minute mile pace the entire way.

As I was laboring along, the Lord reminded me of the principle of comparisons. To my friends who run at a 10 or 11 minute mile pace, I'm a super fast runner. But to real athletes who are actually good at running, the 8 minute mile pace that I've worked for 3 1/2 years to achieve, is a snail's pace. On my best day, they could beat me with one hand tied behind their back. It's all relative.

Comparisons are never good. They either give us an inflated and false sense of pride or they tear down our self esteem. So what's a girl to do? Once again, I found myself, flawed and broken, at the foot of the cross. Amazed that my Jesus would see all of me and still love me enough to shed His blood in my place. And I felt the Lord whisper to me, "Don't compare. Just be you. I created you. I gave you a purpose. I gave you gifts and abilities. What are you doing to use those gifts and abilities to bring me glory?"

I'll be meditating on that for the rest of my day and I won't compare myself to the other moms whose kids made it to the bus in one piece without running or tears.

1 comment:

  1. Oh Jodi! What a wonderful post. This spoke volumes to me. I'm constantly comparing myself to other momma's who 'have it all together'. God made me, ME! I've got to remember that. You are precious. Thanks for sharing!
    Abbie Budd