Moving for a Miracle

4:45am: I am back in bed. Stress hits me. I start thinking of my travel for the day and my meetings while I am out in Chicago. AGENDAS!!! I hate meeting agendas but they are the necessary evil. I haven’t prepared them yet. I need to get them sent out. I tell myself that I will do them on my flight. FLIGHTS!!! I haven’t booked my flights yet for my trips coming up. Anxiety is now rattling my cage.

5:00am: I can see the darkness in the room changing tone. Ugh. What am I doing awake? I turn to Facebook. After a quick browse I put my phone down. I start thinking of new friends. Oh how I like them. My mind gradually slips into thinking of old friends and then really old friends. I can’t help but reflect on how they have all changed. How they have changed? How much have I changed? How much have I changed in the past week? Seems small but deep down I know it’s bigger than I am giving these changes credit for.

5:30am: Scripture time. Might as well do it now and maybe I can read myself back to sleep?

6:00am: My body is now restless from forced attempts to fall back asleep. I roll over. The closed window blinds are now glowing around the borders where the gaps are. The sun is rising behind Mt. Timpanogos. I pull my headphones out from my bedside drawer. Maybe music can help distract me and I can rest?

6:30am: Still wide awake. My alarm goes off and I roll quickly out of bed and begin stretching. Oh, relief.

6:45am: I pull on my running pants. Emotions trickle through my body. The emotions reach my eyes and I quickly blink and think of manly things to distract me from tearing up. I finish getting ready and take two steps down the stairs and then….

“Crrrrrrrreak!”

It can only be one person. It’s my oldest. She has a long history and a sick sixth sense of interrupting my desire to begin a workout on time.

“Good morning, June!”

“Hi Dad, I waked up super quickly so I could see you!” I couldn’t help but laugh. Sixth sense confirmed.

7:00am: Finally out the door. To begin my first day to a new commitment. The commitment of #movingforamiracle. Bill and Andy, the parents of Dru, one of the most beautiful little girls you will ever see, 15 days ago started running a mile a day with the commitment of doing so until Beckett receives his liver transplant. When Dru was on the waiting list they did something similar and I was blown away when they began running for Beckett and asking others to do so as well. How could I not join them in the cause? If I don’t join them, how could I expect others to do so?

7:05am: I get to my starting point. I begin skipping. Don’t ask. It’s what I always do before starting a run. I think it helps me find a rythim. I generally have headphones but not today. I wanted to pace myself to the beat of my heart and listen to the gravel crackle beneath my feet. I take a deep breath. I smell the dew resting on the grass in the fields by our home. It takes me to a place deep inside where harmony and balance reside. I pick up the pace.

I feel great. I feel in control. I then hit a hill. I can feel the resistance increase. My breathing gets harder. I think of Beckett. I can hear him breathing heavy in my mind. My memory is now flashing through all the times that he has done so because of the pressure on his lungs caused by fluid inside his abdomen. A fire inside starts burning and I am determined to conquer the hill in front of me. With this new determination, I lift my head up and I see the shadow of a church steeple. Comfort calms the fire burning as I realize how amazing our church ward/congregation has been. So much love. So much support. So many prayers and people fasting. They are making sacrifices for our family. As I focus on the steeple, it’s shadow moves and the sun emerges. It hits me. It’s warm. In its warmth I receive answers and confirmation that God is aware and he loves me. I am blinded by the light, I can’t see anything in front of me. God is reminding and teaching me that I don’t need to see everything clearly. That trials, obstacles, stress or worry are blinding objects in life. Even though I can’t see, the Lord is my light and can see clearly the path before me. Tears begin slowing rolling down my cheeks. They feel cold. For a moment I feel vulnerable. It’s just me and God and I don’t have to hide from myself. This sense of freedom empowers me to reach my destination. I get to the top. For the first time at the end of a run I didn’t want to stop going. So I didn’t. I kept moving forward and eventually made my way home.

7:30am Home.

It’s in the moments we least expect that friends emerge and God shows his hand. I never knew how much I needed to move for a miracle. The miracle of Beckett receiving a liver and the miracle of myself finding peace when I have not been able to for so long. Ironically we found out today that Beckett’s Kasai surgery to give him more time is no longer working. Every day now, I move for a miracle and I invite you to do the same. #loveyaBeckett