Weekly Message from T. J.

Guide My Feet

Cannon fire is not the first thing I thought of that morning. Through a night of tossing and turning, wondering what might happen the next day, I thought of a lot, but never once of cannon fire. The preparations were all in place: get up at 4 am, get the car to the stadium by 5 am, get to downtown by 6 am, and start the race at 7 am. Making plans and having a schedule calms me down, but try and try as I did, I could not sleep.

Sleep did arrive, but it only lasted four hours before I rose to follow my schedule for the day. I got exactly where I needed to be when I planned to be there. 10,000 others crowded the road in front of Aloha tower. The pule before the race warmed our spirits. And the earth moved with the blessing to reveal the first rays of sun that warmed our bodies. Twin anthems of two nations rang in our ears and echoed in our hearts. I chatted a little with the folks around me, wishing them a great race.

BOOM!!!

The tones ringing in my ears, the dulcet echo in my heart, each fled in haste at the concussion of the air around us and in our very lungs. A crowd of thousands squealed with delight at the shattering air and the first group of runners took off.

BOOM!!!

Another null volley from the unarmed cannons shook us more as we moved forward toward the start.

BOOM!!!

The final volley bolted us across the start and the journey I’d tossed and turned about for more than twice as long as the journey would take began.

And in the middle distance of my journey, when the adrenaline of the first few miles waned and the only concussions spurring me on were those that my feet pounded out on the road, and when silence somehow settled amid rock bands, water stations, and shouts of encouragement, I remembered hours before. When I couldn’t sleep I sent a message to the friend with whom I’d be running the race saying I was scared I couldn’t sleep. It was almost midnight, but instead of saying, “go to bed” or “you’ll be fine” he said, “I’ll be right over.”

We talked on the lanai about the plans for the morning. He laughed a little at my planning but was grateful for it. And after ten minutes of talking, we decided we both needed to sleep. We got up and as he headed home, he gave me a quick good-luck hug. And the pat of his hand on my back shook something: the memory of a friend blessing my ministry, of overcoming an illness we thought would take him, of showing up in the dead of the night when a friend was scared. And BOOM, like a cannon it hit me: no matter the tiny plans we make and the little races we run, the race that matters, to love one another as we would be loved, that race is over, and we won.

May it ever be so
Rev. T. J.
minister@unitariansofhi.org