This morning I had some quiet time at the YMCA. (If you ask me about the YMCA you might get more information than you care for. So for the sake of brevity I'll just say I understand why the Village People wrote a song about it.) But this is not about the YMCA, except that I was there and I ran.
I am not a good runner, but I appreciate the single-mindedness of it. Lately there are so many things to think about all the time. My mind is busy from the moment I wake up until I tuck five little people into bed at night. Laundry. Food.Cleaning. Marriage. Appointments. Repairs. Bills. Social services. Activities. Play with kids. Discipline kids. Bathe kids. The future. Vacations. On the treadmill there is only one thing: one step in front of another.
There is a seasoned foster mom who goes to our church. I barely know her but I've latched onto her and plagued her with questions. She's given me support and tips and I lap it up like a hungry kitten. She recently responded to my tears and self doubt with a smile and "It's like you have a huge mirror shoved in your face." So ... no solutions this time, huh? Oookayyyy.
She's right. The mirror she speaks of is more like a full size mirror in a public bathroom with bad lighting. Suddenly I can see the ugliest parts of myself with alarming clarity. It makes me want to run. Fast.
We signed up to be foster parents because we have so much and we felt we had so much to give. Turns out we were wrong. Whatever reservoir of patience, grace and kindness we had got slurped up in the first, oh, 24 hours. So, we have had to ask God for help like never before. We cannot do this on our own. We cannot even do this with a little help from our friends. We can only move forward because of God's own patience, grace and kindness toward us. It is a reality we have to connect to constantly. It is hard to explain but some of you know what I mean.
I don't mean to turn this back into a commercial for the Y, but exercise has been an avenue of grace for me. I joined about a month into fostering. My children have a happy place to play while I focus on one thing for a little while. I run, if I may, in the right direction. It is therapeutic and calming and brings me closer to the person I am not but the person I hope to be.
My faith and heart are stretching, and it doesn't always feel good. On the treadmill it hurts a little but as my heart rate rises so does my confidence that I can keep going just a little bit longer.