Sunday, June 5, 2016

The Race

Today has been a very powerful day for me as I have begun to realize just how important family truly is. I have always loved Memorial Day, wandering through the cemetery and learning the stories of my ancestors, those coming from across the sea for love of the Gospel, some almost losing their children for it. Yet after attending the funeral of my great uncle on Friday and reading the life story of my own grandpa today I'm realizing these aren't just stories of men and women from long ago that are interesting to pass down, no these are the stories of great men who sacrificed much for their country and the gospel and who have faced so much tribulation with a smile on their face. 



I have some very amazing great aunts who wanted to make sure that I knew who their brother (my grandfather) was even though he died when I was too young to remember him. Today I learned about his dedication to his callings, his love of farming and his desire to remain out of debt. I learned about a man who suffered through multiple bouts of cancer and lymphoma, who almost missed his youngest sons wedding due to radiation treatments, but because of the love and effort of so many, especially his wife that he made it to the sealing. I learned of a husband and wife who dedicated themselves completely to each other, who worked and served whole-heartedly in the hopes of somehow lightening the burden of the other. I learned of giving everything you have to overcome obstacles and to keep laughing, even when you fall and break your back.

Reading this story I saw quite a few parallels with my own life, perhaps not the exact experiences, but relatable feelings and even I have a back with its own set of special issues. We all have trials and tribulations, things that make us hurt, things that seem tax us, things that can overwhelm us. Reading how my dear grandparents handled it and how their siblings and my parents and aunts and uncles helped, gave me a whole new perspective on my family legacy, I am so grateful for that legacy of faith and endurance, humor, love and sacrifice.

The veil is so thin, the more we learn of those who have gone before us, the more we will recognize their presence still in our lives. Those taken from us on this side of the veil are still there encouraging us and aiding us in our time of need. They might have graduated from their education in mortality, but they are still connected to us and perhaps more aware of us now that they are no longer distracted by temporal things. Our dear Savior Jesus Christ, who has suffered our pain and sorrow and has seen our joy and hope provides his love and tender mercies through families. He who knows our every need has provided a plan that we will always be taken care of in our time of need. There truly are "angels among us sent down to us from somewhere up above" (Alabama). There may come a time when we will be even more aware of their love and efforts in our lives. 




This is a poem my great aunts found, they say this is my grandfather to a tee. I'm grateful for their love and the opportunity to learn more of this man who gave me so much, an example of how to just keep going with a smile. I love you grandpa


The Race
 
Whenever I start to hang my head in front of failure’s face,
    my downward fall is broken by the memory of a race.
A children’s race, young boys, young men; how I remember well,
    excitement sure, but also fear, it wasn’t hard to tell.
They all lined up so full of hope, each thought to win that race
    or tie for first, or if not that, at least take second place.
Their parents watched from off the side, each cheering for their son,
    and each boy hoped to show his folks that he would be the one.
The whistle blew and off they flew, like chariots of fire,
    to win, to be the hero there, was each young boy’s desire.
One boy in particular, whose dad was in the crowd,
    was running in the lead and thought “My dad will be so proud.”
But as he speeded down the field and crossed a shallow dip,
    the little boy who thought he’d win, lost his step and slipped.
Trying hard to catch himself, his arms flew everyplace,
    and midst the laughter of the crowd he fell flat on his face.
As he fell, his hope fell too; he couldn’t win it now.
    Humiliated, he just wished to disappear somehow.
But as he fell his dad stood up and showed his anxious face,
    which to the boy so clearly said, “Get up and win that race!”
He quickly rose, no damage done, behind a bit that’s all,
    and ran with all his mind and might to make up for his fall.
So anxious to restore himself, to catch up and to win,
    his mind went faster than his legs. He slipped and fell again.
He wished that he had quit before with only one disgrace.
    “I’m hopeless as a runner now, I shouldn’t try to race.”
But through the laughing crowd he searched and found his father’s face
    with a steady look that said again, “Get up and win that race!”
So he jumped up to try again, ten yards behind the last.
    “If I’m to gain those yards,” he thought, “I’ve got to run real fast!”
Exceeding everything he had, he regained eight, then ten...
    but trying hard to catch the lead, he slipped and fell again.
Defeat! He lay there silently. A tear dropped from his eye.
    “There’s no sense running anymore! Three strikes I’m out! Why try?
I’ve lost, so what’s the use?” he thought. “I’ll live with my disgrace.”
    But then he thought about his dad, who soon he’d have to face.
“Get up,” an echo sounded low, “you haven’t lost at all,
    for all you have to do to win is rise each time you fall.
Get up!” the echo urged him on, “Get up and take your place!
    You were not meant for failure here! Get up and win that race!”
So, up he rose to run once more, refusing to forfeit,
    and he resolved that win or lose, at least he wouldn’t quit.
So far behind the others now, the most he’d ever been,
    still he gave it all he had and ran like he could win.
Three times he’d fallen stumbling, three times he rose again.
    Too far behind to hope to win, he still ran to the end.
They cheered another boy who crossed the line and won first place,
    head high and proud and happy -- no falling, no disgrace.
But, when the fallen youngster crossed the line, in last place,
    the crowd gave him a greater cheer for finishing the race.
And even though he came in last with head bowed low, unproud,
    you would have thought he’d won the race, to listen to the crowd.
And to his dad he sadly said, “I didn’t do so well.”
    “To me, you won,” his father said. “You rose each time you fell.”
And now when things seem dark and bleak and difficult to face,
    the memory of that little boy helps me in my own race.
For all of life is like that race, with ups and downs and all.
    And all you have to do to win is rise each time you fall.
And when depression and despair shout loudly in my face,
    another voice within me says, “Get up and win that race!”
D.H. Groberg

No comments:

Post a Comment