07/12/2023
Inspirational Message
Whenever I start to hang my head in front of failure’s face, � my downward fall is broken by the memory of a race. �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. �Their parents watched from off the side, each cheering for their son, � and each boy hoped to show his folks that he would be the one. �The whistle blew and off they flew, like chariots of fire, � to win, to be the hero there, was each young boy’s desire. �One boy in particular, whose dad was in the crowd, � was running in the lead and thought “My dad will be so proud.” �But as he speeded down the field and crossed a shallow dip, � the little boy who thought he’d win, lost his step and slipped. �Trying hard to catch himself, his arms flew everyplace, � and midst the laughter of the crowd he fell flat on his face. �As he fell, his hope fell too; he couldn’t win it now. � Humiliated, he just 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 that 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 that he had quit before with only one disgrace. � “I’m hopeless as a runner now, I shouldn’t try to race.” �But through the laughing crowd he searched and found his father’s face � with a steady look that said again, “Get up and win that 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 run real fast!” �Exceeding everything he had, he regained eight, then ten... � but trying 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 anymore! Three strikes I’m out! Why try? �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, “you haven’t lost at all, � for all you have to do to win is rise each time you fall. �Get up!” the echo urged him on, “Get up and take your place! � You were not meant for failure here! Get up and win that race!” �So, up he rose to run once more, refusing to forfeit, � and he resolved that win or lose, at least he wouldn’t quit. �So far behind the others now, the most he’d ever been, � still he gave it all he had and ran like he could 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 another boy who crossed the line and won 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 a greater cheer for finishing the race. �And even though he came in last with head bowed low, unproud, � 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.” �And now when things seem dark and bleak 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. �And when depression and despair shout loudly in my face, � another voice within me says, “Get up and win that race!”
-Unknown Author
