Love and Sacrifice

I went for my first “run” post surgery this morning. It was more of a run/walk and it lasted 1.6 miles. The weather has mercifully cooled down for a few days—highs in the low 80s instead of the muggy mid-nineties of summer in Dayton, OH. It seemed like a good morning to see if I could run just a little bit.

Bittersweet is an overused word, but the feeling is hard to describe another way. In one moment the rhythm of running felt as if my body always knew how to do this—that I could pick up and go for miles getting lost in the music and my own thoughts. Just another moment later, I was gasping for breath, my lungs on fire from 5 weeks off of aerobic exercise and a major operation. My knees hurt during my run for the first time in years, likely due to my quad muscles being weaker and not as able to support them. I took frequent breaks and ran for short stretches of that measly distance. It took me half an hour. Twice the time a mile and half took me 6 weeks ago.

I tried to enjoy the rare comfortable, and beautiful day in Dayton. I started to cry. The weather seemed to be mocking me—reminding me of what I most wanted to do but couldn’t: run for miles until I was good and tired, sweating through all of my clothes and leaving behind that anxious energy and worry that gathers when we fail to release it somehow. Running was my release.

This really is a sacrifice, isn’t it? I thought. While it was an automatic decision to give my dad my kidney—something I wouldn’t trade and opportunity I am grateful for, it wasn’t without cost. I had to give up something I love. Not for forever, but for a time. Years of training and hard work and gone, only to start over at square one. I felt like a beginning runner for the first time in 7 years. Slowly, I have to scrape and claw my way back—redoing everything I have already done, to get back to the place I was 6 weeks ago. My how life changes in an instant.

As I was walking back to my house a red-tailed hawk soared right in front of me. They always seem to show up when I need to be reminded of something. If we are going to love people enough to give them life then it is going to cost us. Sacrifice isn’t about giving up excess; it’s about giving when it hurts. If we really want to talk about having faith and courage, then we need to also talk about fear and sacrifice. Faith and courage really don’t amount to much without the other two.

And the beautiful, strange and wonderful thing about sacrifice is this: even in the throws of pain and grief, even in the middle of suffering, love somehow shows up (or flies in front of us) gently reminding us what we have known all along, suffering will pass in time but love transforms forever. I only hope I am strong enough to leave a little room around the edges of my suffering for love to shine its light in too and brave enough to keep believing in that light.