A Cheerleader

She runs. And she loves it. I like sitting. Like, a lot. It produces less sweat. Sitting is an indoor sport. But running is outside. In 100% humidity. I stand in the shade and watch her and realize she must really love running to endure the Texas elements.


This is cross country season. That just means longer distance to run in the heat. Oh, and you get to wear cuter shoes with spikes on the bottom. I think I could consider running, just for the perky footwear.


From the start of the race, my eyes never leave her. I watch her around every turn and I squint to keep track of her through the distant trees. Half way through, I know she is tired, and I find myself racing to various sections of the trail to cheer her on. In the final stretch, I notice her sisters running along side the path, keeping up with her and yelling words of encouragement. The sight makes my heart heavy with joy.


The longer I watch, the more I learn. Doesn't life feel like a race? Grueling, tiring and lots of hard work? And every runner needs a cheerleader. I am her's. At times, I watch from afar. Letting her work at it on her own. At other times, I stand as close as I can get and I scream so she can hear my voice above all the others. I reassure her that she. can. do. this.

I am her cheerleader, and He is mine. I know He is there, standing on the side lines watching. Ever mindful. Sometimes He even adjusts the course without my consent. But His goal is to lead me to the finish line. And my goal is to follow the path. At the moments I want to quit, His voice rises above all others. You. Can. Do. This.

I cheer for her and He cheers for me. And her, as well. We run together. We match our strides. We finish as One.