Monday, April 15, 2013

Reflections on Boston

Today I came across a beautifully written reflection on Facebook from a woman who ran in the Boston Marathon.  I love so much of what was expressed through her words that I wanted to share with all of you.
Today, I was running the Boston Marathon. I was the cheerful girl zipping through the marathon with a swish of her red polka dotted skirt and a huge smile on her face. I ribbed the army people working the course with my call out, "Air Power." I stopped twice to use the potty and I was but a quarter mile from the end when I heard a loud boom, felt the street shake, and started to smell a smell I never smelled before. All hell broke loose. People were screaming and sprinting away from the finish line. The race immediately ended. For me, a girl who was invited to run to honour her soldier who was taken by another terrorist on 27 April 2011, it threw me back into a spot where I immediately felt out of control, that my life was being torn apart, and I stood immobilised sobbing for again the terrorist sought to take yet another thing that matters in my life.

I find joy in running and I have grabbed my life back by running. It is the singular aspect of my life that allows me to find my faith and to find happiness. I am sitting in total disbelief. How could it be that two potty breaks saved me today? How can it be that as I was running to snub my nose at the terrorist that took Phil, another sought to destroy the hard fought for happiness I have found. It cannot end this way. I am shaking and I am physically ill tonight, but I will pick myself up one faltering step at a time until I can run victorious once again. I cannot let these vile monsters create any more fear in my life. I just can't.

There were heroes today. I met a man who was an instructor at my training these past weeks. He brought his family and found me. He got me back to my hotel. A nurse sat with me as I sobbed my eyes out and shook violently in the Dunkin Doughnuts store. So many people called me. My phone did not have reception, yet the singular two phone calls that got through were phone calls from people who came to get me. My children were terrified and that is what hurts. This event brought fear back into my family--fear of loss and fear of violent acts. How can I fix the hurts in my children when I am right there? I ask for prayers and I ask for some time to process this event. I will find the strength that I fall into with my faith. The terrorist will never EVER maim my heart, my spirit, or my drive to live life out loud. Got that?
Written by Linda Leonard Ambard (Source)

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