A few weeks ago I attended my daughter's first Varsity Track and Field Meet. In the hours that passed that evening, I couldn't help but be reminded of my own first Varsity Meet.
It was 1984. Our first four meets were rained out that year. In week 5, we finally were blessed with a sunny clear day without the threat of thunderstorms. Area coaches agreed to hold multiple large invitational’s the rest of the season to try and play catch up and give the athletes the opportunity to compete against each other. So my first track meet was attended by eight area high schools. As we arrived at the stadium, I was completely awe struck. There were so so so many people. I was a small town girl, and this was an awesome sight to see. We were immediately given the instruction that we were not allowed on the football field as they were protecting it to look perfect for football in the fall. A string about a foot high was placed around the entire perimeter to try and keep people off of the field. Our team found a nice grassy spot on the embankment and set our bags there and took off for our warm up lap. The upperclassmen on the team completely ditched me. I knew that I was supposed to listen to the first call for my event and turn my entry card in at the scorer’s table. After I did, I simply watched other teams’ runners and followed their lead. When they stretched, I stretched, when they jogged around, I jogged around. Soon I came back near the scorer’s table and saw the hurdles being moved onto the track. I asked the nice lady at the scorer’s table if they had moved the mile run to be after the hurdles. She jumped up and called the people putting hurdles on the track to get them off and told me the mile was getting started on the far side of the field. In near disbelief combined with panic-stricken horror, I broke the big rule of running on the football field in an attempt to make my race. I jumped over the string barrier sprinted as fast as a distance runner could sprint and when I was confident the race starter could hear me, as his gun was already raised to start the race, I screamed “Wait!” At that moment I failed to navigate the string barrier on that side of the field and tripped, landing face down right at the starting line. It was there that I uttered the most sincere fervent prayer of my life thus far. I begged my Father in Heaven, whom I was desperately trying to believe in; with all the faith I could muster, to make me invisible…
Miracle Cinnamon Rolls
2 cups warm milk (microwave for 1-2 minutes)
The lesson I needed to learn my freshman year of track- that we must all learn is that the Lord’s wisdom is greater than our own. As we work to gain a relationship with our Heavenly Father- to know He is there and hears and answers our prayers, we may feel at times it’s hard, or not working. To this, I turn to the message in “Good Things To Come”. It’s a story of a young poor father having a hard time. Elder Jeffrey R. Holland says the advice he would have given to himself, is the same advice I believe we need to hear as we try to progress.
Gratefully my daughter never found herself face down praying for a miracle during her first meet. She simply prayed that God would help her do her best. And her best was good enough for an 8th place finish in a field of over 50 competitors. That sounds good enough to celebrate with some hot from the oven Miracle Cinnamon Rolls.