It has been a couple weeks and I think tonight I can finally talk about it.

On Saturday, Oct 15th Elli and I woke up in a hotel room with my
brother in Indianapolis. It was the morning of Joe's marathon. (half
marathon technically) We got ready and rushed over to see him start the
race. We dropped him off then parked the car. I was still recovering
from my broken ankle so we had to walk slow. By the time we got to the
starting line the gun went off. Elli and I ran to the open field next
to the starting line to see the nearly two block long line of runners
bursting out into the street.

Ahead of time we planned to meet up with him halfway to give him
some energy gel packs. We timed it based on the his goal time. He was a
little behind but when we saw him in the crowd me and Elli yelled. It
was him and he was still going.

We had a couple errands to run and a little time before the end of
the race. One thing was to get batteries for the camera. We got to the
finish line 15 minutes before his goal time. We started watching the
people making it the last few feet to sweet victory. I relished in the
moment for these people. You could see them round the corner and the
finish line was in their sight. The tired smiles grew on their faces.

There are times that get I annoyed with how naturally I have empathy
for people. At times it makes me feel things that I can't explain. I
had one of these moments as I watched. A older gentleman rounded the
corner with a younger women next to him. Somehow I just knew that this
was his middle-aged daughter. They had run the race together and were
cheering each other on. Later another man much younger came down the
street with a little girl holding his hand. I doubt the little girl had
gone the 13.1 miles with him. Maybe she joined him the last couple
blocks. They smiled and crossed the line.

Two high school girls came into view. At first it didn't seem odd
but then as I had been doing before I started looking at their race
tags to see their numbers. This time only one of the girls had a race
tag. Then it became apparent to me that the one without the race tag
had joined the other along the way. I got really chocked up.
Maybe it was the thought that the race girl had struggled
and was about to give up when her friend saw her... maybe even halfway.
She may have said that she couldn't make it and was going to stop. But
her friend said that she would finish the race with her. That gave her
the strength to go on.

As others passed I thought about what their story might be. Why were
they there? What kept them going? How close were they to giving up? How
many had overcome unimaginable difficulties that no one would know
except them?

I had come down to Indy mainly so when my brother Joe
crossed the finished line someone would be there to congratulate him.
Elli is a great cheerleader so she was a shoe-in for the part also. We
saw Joe round the corner and we started screaming and cheering. He was
gonna make it. Only a few more feet!! He finished!!!

We headed back home to Fort Wayne when we got the call that Grandma
wasn't doing well. The other kids were heading up to the nursing home
so I headed straight up there. When we
got there Grandma was sitting up. She had a bad cough and looked a bit
rough but I felt a bit more optimistic when I saw her.

We all sat around her room. I pulled up a chair and sat in front of
her. Sadly, I wasn't nearby when my Grandpa Bush passed away about a
decade before. I missed that moment. This time I was determined to see
Grandma before the sands of her hourglass slipped through our hands.

The nurse came in to give her a breathing treatment. At that moment
I just felt she must being feeling alone and confused so I took her
hands and smiled at her. Then it happened... darn my stupid overactive
heart... I started thinking back to the race. I started thinking about
that finish line and what it meant to the people turning the corner to
see their goal in sight. I looked deeply in my Grandma's eyes. Knowing
that dementia had taken our ability to communicate with our voice... I
was determine to talk to her with my face.

For the next hour or maybe longer I sat there smiling at her and
looking at her. In my mind I relived all our family's greatest moments.
Some were the halfway points in our lives where our family was there
and we saw each other. Those times when we yelled and
screamed... "Go... you're gonna make it!" As those home movies (or
in her case... slide projector show) played in my mind I projected them
to her with my face. For all the years that she wasn't sure she could
make it or that she couldn't stop because she knew there were smaller
ones watching her I thanked her with my smile.

I suppose you could say that she never really heard what was going
on in my head. I hope that she does now. I hope with a perfectly
restored mind in heaven that she cherishes those last few moments as
much as I did. And even if not... they still are mine.

The race wasn't over... the next Monday she turned the corner of her
last block. My Mom had spent the last few blocks running with her. She
held her hand and cheered her on. As she got closer and closer to the
finish my mom told her it was ok to go... it was her time to join all
those waiting for her just across that line. This was her sweet
victory. She had run the full marathon and given it all she had.

At my house.. a little after 8 pm I picked up my guitar
and started playing. The song stuck in my head was "Trading My Sorrows"
by Darrel Evans. I played it over and over but
something kept bugging meto call my Mom on her cell. I finally made the call.

It was only a few minutes when I asked how Grandma was doing and Mom
got real quiet. In the background I finally heard her call out,
"Mother? Mother?!?" I knew something wasn't right. She got back on the
phone and said, "Glenn I gotta go call the nurse," and hung up. Glenn
isn't my name it is my uncle's. Something really flustered her. I
called my Dad and we rushed up there with my brother. When we got there
we found out Grandma had passed while I was on the phone with Mom.

I can't imagine what it was like being there at the last few
moments. I wonder what stories Mom and Grandma were reliving. What
inspirations did they hold onto for those last few steps? What
hardships and sorrows where only a few minutes from being consumed in
the final victory of the great race? What moments from years and
years ago when Grandma never thought she would see her way through...
only now to be part of the closing finale of her great symphony. It was
over... the music ended... the crowd stood in stunned applause. And the
angels sang...

I'm trading my sorrows,
I'm trading my shame;
I'm laying them down
For the joy of the Lord.

I'm trading my sickness,
I'm trading my pain;
I'm laying them down
For the joy of the Lord.

We say yes, Lord, yes, Lord,
Yes, yes, Lord,
Yes, Lord, yes, Lord,
Yes, yes, Lord,
Yes, Lord, yes, Lord,
Yes, yes, Lord. Amen.

I am pressed but not crushed,
persecuted, not abandoned,
struck down but not destroyed.

I am blessed beyond the curse,
For His promise will endure,
That His joy is gonna be my strength.

Though the sorrow may last for the night,
His joy comes with the morning.

I'm trading my sorrows,
I'm trading my shame;
I'm laying them down
For the joy of the Lord.

I'm trading my sickness,
I'm trading my pain;
I'm laying them down
For the joy of the Lord.

We say yes, Lord, yes, Lord,
Yes, yes, Lord,
Yes, Lord, yes, Lord,
Yes, yes, Lord,
Yes, Lord, yes, Lord,
Yes, yes, Lord. Amen.

I hope I never forget the lessons this has taught me. We don't
always know exactly what point we are in the race or why it took this
turn or that turn. Just remember to stay in the race. Cheer on
your loved ones on along the way. And if you see anyone that looks like
they about to give up... take their hand and finish the race with them
even if it is their race not yours.