Monday, April 7, 2014
Keep Trying... has victory written all over it.
It was Sunday- 2 days of watching General Conference (Talks from Prophet and apostles and leaders from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter day Saints) was over. I listened. I took notes. I felt inspired and then what.
Well, after having been scrunched together on couches in the same room for the majority of the two days- we needed out. We went outside to bask in the sun. Some just wanted to sit and let the sun warm them and not be bothered. Others were full of energy and kept running round the house begging me to time them as they ran. And so began my 1-mississippi, 2-mississippi counting as they ran faster and faster trying to beat the last run time. Then began tag. How do these things start? At first it was easy- there were 2 other people besides myself who wouldn't get off the porch chairs so I would just lean over and tag one of them and then yell no tags back, insuring I had a little rest before I got tagged again. Then one person moved from the chairs, now it was more complicated, if you were sitting and the person next to you tagged you, you now had to venture out to find someone else. Ugh- I now needed to go get shoes- I grabbed the shoes closest to the door, my 10 year old daughter's, pink flip-flops. I came out, she was the first to notice her shoes on my feet and her facial expression clearly revealed she was not pleased with my shoe selection, but her face quickly changed once I ran after her. She then realized flip flops did slow me down and gave her a better chance of remaining tag free and she made no further comments.
Now everyone was up off the porch and scattered. Nick, my 15 yr old- perhaps the fastest runner in the family, at home, at the time- (putting all the clarifications in)- had been tagged and I saw he was coming after me. My first reaction was... Why are you picking on your tired, flip flop footed mom and then a prideful feeling followed... (I'm not proud of it) I'll make you sorry for picking me. I ran out of the yard and through the orchards, where the bee man had recently left cubes of hives of bees everywhere for pollinating, so bees were everywhere. I thought for sure that would change his mind and he would go after someone else.
After having run up several rows, I looked back to see where he was. He was still there. Seriously? I ran on. I did an elaborate scheme of criss cross through the orchard, making it hard to detect which direction I was heading. I looked back, now out of the orchard and on to the other side of an open field. I could still see him coming for me! Really, this is ridiculous!
But I am not to be deterred... I mean I exercise all the time, I have run several races, surely he will see there are easier targets than me and give up at some point. I run on.. so does he. I run crossing the water ditch canal and look back.. now out of breath... he is still coming. I yell at him "Stop chasing me!!!" He does not. I realize I must run again. This time around an empty plowed up field. I see my mistake as I look back, the trail I have taken goes around and he is running straight across instead of taking the trail and has broken any distance I had created. I now just run- no longer looking back. I now curse my quickly chosen shoe selection!
Within another minute or two I am caught. My only victory is that he is out of breath and sweating profusely. He puts his sweaty arm around me proclaiming, "Sweet Victory!" He is smiling ear to ear. I can feel his happiness radiating beyond his being. It is a tough half mile to endure home, especially with him basking in glory and me resigned to digesting a full helping of humble pie.
It is only after I get home that I decide to watch the only session of conference I had missed- Priesthood session and it is here that I discover the reason for Nick's victory. Several talks were given encouraging one to never give up. No matter how difficult a problem or trial- to be steadfast and keep trying and you will gain the victory. It seems Nick had not only listened to the messages, but had taken them to heart. I sat there no longer disgruntled over my loss, but smiling that my son had experimented upon the message, tried to live it and found for himself that it was true. His example led me back to my own conference notes I had taken and seeking the Spirit to find which ones I needed to work on. I found a few and hope that I will be just as committed as he was and no matter how hard the journey of change becomes that I will, like him, just keep trying until I have tasted sweet victory.