Estoy tratando sobrevivir una sistema maligna.

When I was in the 8th grade I qualified for the State track meet in the 100m hurdles. My sister put my hair in cornrows. I had new spikes on my cleats. And it started out well, I even made it to the finals with the fourth fastest time. That last race it felt like everything fell apart. I was off balance, and the harder I tried to right myself the more off balance I became, until I finally wobbled past the finish line. That race really impacted me. (Obviously, as it is now a hundred years later, and I’m still bringing it up.) I wrote about it back in high school, poems even. At one point I think I likened it to “pushing against bars.” You can feel the effort by not see it. Thankfully, God ultimately used it to his glory, because it brought me to admit the truth for the first time that, I could not do it on my own. I had gotten myself all the way to the finals... but on my own, I could not finish it.

He’s been finishing my races for me since that time.  Short races. Long races. And then there’s distances... I wonder if it’ll ever finish. We each have our own challenges. We’re only human after all, and quite prone to imperfections.  Teachers wanting nothing more than to work for their students, but first have yet another state mandated requirement to fulfill taking their time away from the actual teaching. Nurses just want to help their patient’s but first have to complete a module to be certified to complete the documentation required to log their nursing report which is required both before and after they provide a patient care. Mother, Wall Street broker, Lawyer, Hotel Manager, TSA agent and  last but not least Doctor. Or not even doctors, just residents. All running a race.

I came home from work this morning, exhausted from a long call of pushing against bars. I sit here and ruminate over rhetorical questions like, “Will it ever end?” Or theoretical questions like, “Is there a different angle to push against?”  Do I even do this anymore? And, if it does finally end, will I even be me anymore? Which brings me back to the conclusion I came to a hundred years ago... Not on my own.

I choose, never on my own.



Much Love.