Stay Strong Beantown

I don’t like running. It gives me shin-splints, and I tend to get winded quite easily.
But I love Jazzercising. During an hour of Jazzercise, we work out the equivalent of “running” five miles in an hour.
Now, imagine doing something you love – running, walking, jogging, bicycling or even Jazzercising – and in the blink of an eye, what you love to do is suddenly associated with an act of terrorism.
On a day that started out with a beautiful sunrise in Ohio quickly turned into a day of darkness in Boston.
When the marathon runners began their race, their only concern was crossing the finish line – some didn’t even make it that far. Others who were close turned and ran to be aides for the injured.
My cousin runs marathons, so I have heard stories firsthand the self-sacrifice – he has spent hours training for a run. He mentally prepares for a marathon. And when he crosses the finish line, whether he is first, middle or last, he is exhausted, yet pleased with himself for his accomplishment. My aunt and uncle have supported their son’s passion. As the news broke today, my aunt was glued to the TV, saying to my Gramma, “That could have been my son!”
That is the scary reality of the world in which we live in today.
No one is safe.
Parents fear for their children as they go to school each day.
Travelers seem to be on the look-out for a “terrorist” on their flight.
Moviegoers have to wonder if someone will gun them down during a movie.
And now, marathon runners will wonder if a bomb will explode during the course of the run.
This morning, after I left Jazzercise, my twins were looking in the sky, pointing out all of “Xs” made by airplanes. Nearly a half-a-mile from home, my daughter told me twice, “See that man in the clouds mom?? He is sitting on a bench, watching people!” I tried to look out the window to see what she saw, but couldn’t see anything. But, people have always said that children see things adults cannot. I can’t help but wonder if what they saw this morning were really crosses and that the man on the bench was Jesus, watching the marathon runners – and then welcoming the three who died during the 117th annual Boston Marathon into his arms.

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