By D. H. Groberg

I.

“Quit! Give up! You’re beaten!”

They shout at me and plead.

“There’s just too much against you now.

This time you can’t succeed!”

And as I start to hang my head

In front of failure’s face,

My downward fall is broken by

The memory of a race.

And hope refills my weakened will

As I recall that scene;

For just the thought of that short race

Rejuvenates my being.

II.

A children’s race — young boys, young men

How I remember well

Excitement, sure! But also fear;

It wasn’t hard to tell.

They all lined up so full of hope;

Each thought to win that race.

Or tie for first, or if not that,

At least take second place.

And fathers watched from off the side,

Each cheering for his son.

And each boy hoped to show his dad

That he would be the one.

The whistle blew and off they went!

Young hearts and hopes afire.

To win and be the hero there

Was each young boy’s desire.

And one boy in particular

Whose dad was one of the crowd.

Was running near the lead and thought,

“My dad will be so proud!”

But as they speeded down the field

Across a shallow dip.

The little boy who thought to win

Lost his step and slipped.

Trying hard to catch himself

His hands flew out to brace,

And mid the laughter of the crowd

He fell flan on his face.

So down he fell and with him hope

He couldn’t win it now —

Embarrassed, sad, he only wished

To disappear somehow.

But as he fell his dad stood up

And showed his anxious face,

Which to the boy so clearly said:

“Get up and win the race.”

He quickly rose, no damage done.

Behind a bit, that’s all —

And ran with all his mind and might

To make up for his fall.

So anxious to restore himself

To catch up and to win —

His mind went faster than his legs;

He slipped and fell again!

He wished the he had quit before

With only one disgrace.

“I’m hopeless as a runner now;

I shouldn’t try to race.

But in the laughing crowd he searched

And found his father’s face.

That steady look which said again:

“Get up and win the race.”

So he jumped up to try again

Ten yards behind the last —

“If I’m to gain those yards,” he thought,

“I’ve got to move real fast.”

Exerting everything he had

He gained eight of ten

But trying so hard to catch the lead

He slipped and fell again!

Defeat! He lay there silently

A tear dropped from his eye —

“There’s no sense running any more;

Three strikes: I’m out! Why try?

The will to rise had disappeared

All hope had fled away;

So far behind, so error prone:

A loser all the way.

“I’ve lost, so what’s the use,” he thought.

“I’ll live with my disgrace.”

But then he thought about his dad

Who soon he’d have to face.

“Get up,” an echo sounded low.

“Get up and take your place;

You were not meant for failure here.

Get up and win the race.”

“With borrowed will, get up,” it said.

“You haven’t lost at all.

For winning is no more than this:

To rise each time you fall.”

So up he rose to run once more,

And with a new commit

He resolved that win or lose

At least he wouldn’t quit.

So far behind the other now,

The most he’d ever been —

Still he gave it all he had

And ran as though to win

Three times he’d fallen, stumbling;

Three times he rose again;

Too far behind to hope to win

He still ran to the end.

They cheered the winning runner

As he crossed the line in first place,

Head high, and proud, and happy;

No falling, no disgrace.

But when the fallen youngster

Crossed the line in last place,

The crowd gave him the greater cheer

For finishing the race.

And even though he cam in last

With head bowed low, un-proud,

You would have thought he’d won the

Race to listen to the crowd.

And to his dad he sadly said,

“I didn’t do so well.”

“To me, you won,” his father said.

“You rose each time you fell.”

III.

And now when things seem dark and hard

And difficult to face,

The memory of that little boy

Helps me in my own race.

For all of life is like that race,

With ups and downs and all

And all you have to do to win,

Is rise each time you fall.

“Quit! Give up! You’re beaten!”

They still shout in my face.

But another voice within me says:

“GET UP AND WIN THE RACE!”

_________________________________________

Copied from the book Connecting by Paul D. Stanley and J. Robert Clinton, pp.224ff.

They don’t know where it came from but had it in their files for years.

When they were building the Gresham Station Mall  in Gresham, Oregon The following incident occured during the Eddy Bauer phase of construction.This is an outdoor mall, where each of the shops looks like a  store by itself.  Quite a nice effect, I think.  In any case, the store was  nearing completion.  The inside had been finished, the carpeting done and  it was almost ready to be occupied.  One day a young man was observed listening  carefully and intently to the wall from outside the Eddy Bauer Store.  As he  was acting somewhat strange many people were curious about what he was  doing.  He went to the manager and explained, “There’s a cat in the wall, I hear a cat.”  They went outside and listened by getting down on the sidewalk.  Soon, they found a way to see the cat, but were unable to get it out.  The manager called the construction people and they cut open the wall and freed the cat.  One of the employees took the cat home. Can you guess what she named the cat? That’s right, she named it Eddy. 

 Lesson:  If we listen carefully, we may hear something no one else can hear  and it might, just might help a great deal.

A love for You, Lord, that is pure and right. 

Your love has filled my soul with fire,

You have become my heart’s desire. 

The beauty of Your wondrous grace

Bids me come and seek Your face. 

To bend my knees before your throne,

To worship you and call heaven home. 

To seek your face is my heart’s cry,

And into your presence, there I would fly. 

—Charles Powell

4-5-2004(revised 12-10-05)

Johnny received a parrot for his birthday.  Unbeknownst
to Johnny, the parrot had once been the property of a
salty sea captain.  This parrot was fully grown with a bad
attitude and worse vocabulary.  Every other word was a
expletive. Those that weren’t expletives were, to say the
least, rude.

Johnny tried hard to change the bird’s attitude and was
constantly saying polite words, playing soft music, anything
he could think of to try and set a good example…Nothing
worked.  He yelled at the bird and the bird got worse.  He
shook the bird and bird got more angry and more rude.

Finally, in a moment of desperation, Johnny put the parrot
in the freezer. For a few moments he heard the bird squawking,
kicking, and screaming then suddenly there was quiet .

Johnny was frightened that he might have hurt the bird and
quickly opened the freezer door.  The parrot calmly stepped
out onto Johnny’s extended arm and said:  “I’m sorry that I
might have offended you with my language and action and I
ask you forgiveness.  I will endeavor to correct my behavior..”

Johnny was astonished at the bird’s change in attitude and
was about to ask what had made such a dramatic change
when the parrot continued: “May I ask what the chicken did?”