Rebecca came home today. Well, not "home", home, as she's been sleeping in her own bed for a few days now, but she came back to our program, back into the welcome embrace of those who have run by her side for the last four years and have been cheering and praying for her healing over the last three weeks.
She came wrapped in a surprise and burst forth in a mix of delighted shock and smiles of joy. It was quite a moment.
Accompanied by her Mom, Dad, brother and Coaches Clendenen and Griesinger, she "interrupted" our Monday meeting at the start of practice. It was a most welcome interruption!
Oh my, what a grand occassion. Three weeks to the day since CBU's terrible and tragic accident ... three weeks after traumatic injuries ... three weeks of intensive care in Reno, Rebecca walked in Riverside and right back into our lives.
We shared in the joy of seeing our loved one again. We marveled at her pace, her determination, her sheer grit. Those of us privy to the accident details could only stand in awe at what we beheld ... a lovely young woman, walking now with purpose, planning to run again and fulfill her mission in life.
My mind was taken back to the stunned silence of the night three weeks ago today when, in the dark of a Mammoth midnight, we got the news of the accident. A numbness descended over our camp the next morning. We wrestled with the fact of fear, of uncertainty ... the confusion of "what next?" We ran that morning ... it was a trudge for some ... but we ran up the big hill called Dead Man's Pass, our minds fixed on pain, real and imagined. We ran to the top, soaked in the view from 10,200 feet under a canopy of blue. Wild flowers painted the ground in yellow and purple, adding a festive hue to the earthy browns. We heard the muffled symphony of creation but it was hard to catch the tune. It was that kind of moment. A big, gigantic run, a celebratory tradition of our week in Mammoth, deadened by our sorrow. It was hard to let it rip and feel the joy.
In Riverside today, Rebecca shared time and words with us, her presence pushing our practice time back by ... well who cares. We ultimately did run, but there was no magnificent climb to ascend, no grand vista to greet us, just a mundane route we've done many times, checkered by suburban spreads painted in terrocotta shades of earth.
Yet Rebecca's visit, at least for this runner, did something to that routine. Energized by the gift of life, reminded of it's fragility, this "normal" run took on new colors and new meaning. How grateful I am for Rebecca's life, for the opportunity to have shared the road with her for four years, to taste the struggles and joys of sports and life together. I saw that idea in clear, vibrant colors as I ran through the housing maze of Orangecrest.
Today Rebecca came back to us, packaged as a gift, a new treasure of life. From the shadows of a great crash, her life and smile and radiant beauty reminds us of the brilliant colors that dot the earthy browns and greys of life. David Crowder puts it well: "A certain sign of grace is this, out of the broken earth, flowers come up..."
For those six miles today, the normal took on new beauty, a freshness and splendor not unlike the rooftop of Mammoth.
Thank you Rebecca, for inspiring us yet again. Oh, and welcome home!
She came wrapped in a surprise and burst forth in a mix of delighted shock and smiles of joy. It was quite a moment.
Accompanied by her Mom, Dad, brother and Coaches Clendenen and Griesinger, she "interrupted" our Monday meeting at the start of practice. It was a most welcome interruption!
Oh my, what a grand occassion. Three weeks to the day since CBU's terrible and tragic accident ... three weeks after traumatic injuries ... three weeks of intensive care in Reno, Rebecca walked in Riverside and right back into our lives.
We shared in the joy of seeing our loved one again. We marveled at her pace, her determination, her sheer grit. Those of us privy to the accident details could only stand in awe at what we beheld ... a lovely young woman, walking now with purpose, planning to run again and fulfill her mission in life.
My mind was taken back to the stunned silence of the night three weeks ago today when, in the dark of a Mammoth midnight, we got the news of the accident. A numbness descended over our camp the next morning. We wrestled with the fact of fear, of uncertainty ... the confusion of "what next?" We ran that morning ... it was a trudge for some ... but we ran up the big hill called Dead Man's Pass, our minds fixed on pain, real and imagined. We ran to the top, soaked in the view from 10,200 feet under a canopy of blue. Wild flowers painted the ground in yellow and purple, adding a festive hue to the earthy browns. We heard the muffled symphony of creation but it was hard to catch the tune. It was that kind of moment. A big, gigantic run, a celebratory tradition of our week in Mammoth, deadened by our sorrow. It was hard to let it rip and feel the joy.
In Riverside today, Rebecca shared time and words with us, her presence pushing our practice time back by ... well who cares. We ultimately did run, but there was no magnificent climb to ascend, no grand vista to greet us, just a mundane route we've done many times, checkered by suburban spreads painted in terrocotta shades of earth.
Yet Rebecca's visit, at least for this runner, did something to that routine. Energized by the gift of life, reminded of it's fragility, this "normal" run took on new colors and new meaning. How grateful I am for Rebecca's life, for the opportunity to have shared the road with her for four years, to taste the struggles and joys of sports and life together. I saw that idea in clear, vibrant colors as I ran through the housing maze of Orangecrest.
Today Rebecca came back to us, packaged as a gift, a new treasure of life. From the shadows of a great crash, her life and smile and radiant beauty reminds us of the brilliant colors that dot the earthy browns and greys of life. David Crowder puts it well: "A certain sign of grace is this, out of the broken earth, flowers come up..."
For those six miles today, the normal took on new beauty, a freshness and splendor not unlike the rooftop of Mammoth.
Thank you Rebecca, for inspiring us yet again. Oh, and welcome home!
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