Finding My Race

I have spent a lot of time thinking about what to say in this post (There are so many thoughts! Too many thoughts.), but I can't seem to come up with any kind of coherent outline in my head, so I am just going to wing it and hope for the best.

First things first: A few nights ago I registered for a half-marathon.  And no, I do not mean registered to hand out water cups on the sidelines of a half-marathon.  I mean I registered to run a half-marathon.

I think the vast majority of people who will ever read this post know me pretty well.  I am not a runner.  Not anywhere near that kind of runner at any rate.  I have run three 5K's in my life: one in college, one in my twenties in California, and one a few years ago, just a few weeks before finding out I was pregnant with Asher.  I struggled mightily through each of those races, finishing red-faced and gasping for air in the back, the way back, of the pack.  I've mostly-walked/slightly-jogged two Color Runs since then.  And that's it.  Since being pregnant with my now almost-two year old son, I've exercised almost not at all.  No running, no walking, no gym, no anything.  I am not an athlete.  I have zero coordination (cannot clap and sing at the same time, people), and I have a very low pain tolerance.  So, why on earth am I running a half-marathon?

I have a feeling this will be a question I ask myself a lot over the next 170ish days, to be honest, so for my own sake, here we go...

Back in California I was fortunate enough to meet two very amazing women, "the Sarahs" as they were called in our circle of friends.  The Sarahs were the kind of people I wanted to be when I grew up.  More specifically, and more importantly for me at that time, they were each the kind of woman I wanted to be. I didn't know them very well, but because I found them inspiring, I paid attention to what they did.  I took notes, in a way, on what living a courageous, beautiful, giving life could look like. At some point or another, in person or online, I honestly don't remember at all, one of the Sarahs mentioned an organization they had worked with in Haiti, called Heartline.  At the time it was completely insignificant to me, but the name was filed away in some small brain cell of mine, not to be thought of again for a very long time.

Then on January 12, 2010, an earthquake rocked Haiti and suddenly everyone was talking about this tiny country less than 700 miles from Miami, Florida - a country that I knew of predominantly because of the work the Sarahs did there.  Through their updates,  I heard the name Heartline again, and this time also, Livesay, the name of a family that lived in Haiti and worked at Heartline.  The Livesays, it turned out, had a blog, and through their blog I read about the field hospital that Heartline had set up to help those injured in the earthquake.  I read posts here and there as I was able, but then time passed, the earthquake and Haiti faded from the news, and I was distracted by life, specifically by the event of moving my small family from California to a small Illinois town just north of St. Louis, Missouri.  I forgot about the blog, forgot about Heartline, forgot, in large part, about Haiti.

Over three years later, last fall, I started thinking about Haiti again.  I don't know why.  I remembered the Sarahs and the Livesays, and I went back to their blog and read a few posts.  Then I read a few more.  And then, for some reason that even I don't understand, I went back to the very beginning of the blog and read the entire thing - every single post - from November 2005 through the present.  Tara Livesay is a great writer and the story of her family's move to Haiti and all the ups and downs of their life there was an incredibly engaging one, but it wasn't a short story by any means, and it took me nearly 6 months to read it through from beginning to end.

Somewhere a long the line I fell in love with their family and their story.  I fell in love with the story of Heartline and the work Heartline is doing in Haiti.  Most importantly, I fell in love with Haiti - especially the women and children of Haiti.  I intend to tell you much more about Heartline and Haiti, but this post is already very long, so those details and stories will be shared in later posts.  The most important piece to share right now is that while Heartline serves the people of Port-au-Prince in a number of ways, one of their biggest efforts is in the area of maternal health.  Heartline's Maternity Center "is a place where expectant mothers can find medical care and support, education, safe and sanitary conditions, and respect for them and their babies."*

I cannot tell you how important this cause has become to me.  Perhaps it is because pregnancy and the postpartum period have always been difficult for me, full of sadness and fear and doubt.  Perhaps it is because I read through the Livesay's blog while caring for my own infant son.  I'm not sure.  What I am sure of is that over the last year God has been doing something in me, and that courageous, beautiful, giving life that I always admired from a distance now seems like something maybe I can actually know for myself.  And surprisingly, I don't think it was ever that far off to begin with, but right in front of me the whole time, tucked inside a short little verse that I've heard throughout my life. "Jesus replied: 'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: Love your neighbor as yourself.'" (Matthew 22:37-39)

Haiti, the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere, is the geographical neighbor of the United States.  The people of Haiti are our neighbors.  The women of Haiti are my neighbor.  Somehow, through the grace of God, I've come to care about what happens to them.  It's important to me that they have a safe, respectful, love-filled place to go to receive prenatal care.  It's important to me that when the time comes to give birth, they are surrounded by people who are trained and prepared to encourage, support, and assist them - people who will cherish them and treat them as valuable - as worthy of care.

I am not a nurse nor a midwife.  I cannot directly provide the care that I know is so important to women hundreds of miles away from me.  But I can pray for them.  I can pray for Heartline.  And I can support the women of Haiti and the work of Heartline by bringing attention to their cause and by helping raise the funds needed to provide the resources and care that I would want for my family and for myself - for anyone I love.

So, on October 19th of this year, I am running a half-marathon in St. Louis to raise money for Heartline Ministries.  As I mentioned already, I have a lot more to share: more details about the work Heartline does, more stories about the women and staff, more information on my goals and hopes for fundraising.  I hope you will stick with me through these posts (I think I have repeatedly proved over the last few years that I am not a blogger, so they may not always be super engaging), and I hope you will stick by me as I try to do what it takes to run my race, literally and figuratively.  Mostly I hope you will hear my heart in all this, and God's heart too, and that all of our hearts will grow in love, as they were created to do.

*Taken with permission from Heartline's Maternity Center web page, which can be found here: http://heartlineministries.org/maternity-center/