I'm not someone who usually gets sentimental about "stuff", but for at least a year now there has been one thing I've been struggling to let go. It's not something many would find sentimental, believe it or not, it's a running stroller (actually a BOB Duallie Ironman stroller). I really should have given it up last fall. I pushed the kids on a long run last August and even then I knew they were too big and it was getting too heavy. Anika's knees were bent up to her chest and then splayed down by the front wheel as she squirmed to get comfortable. It was hard to push with the weight (but a testament to its construction the ride was still smooth). Despite the reduction in speed and the heavy breathing from me we had so much fun getting lost on a new trail and stopping by the lake to play in the sand. Seven slow miles later I was spent and the kids were ready to stretch out.
Summer 2016
They were just too big.
And yet this thing that took up so much precious real estate in our too small garage had a hold on me. I would move it from one spot to the next to get out other more practical items and recall all the trips to the park to visit the ducks, the runs to the coffee shop, the times I got them both to take naps (naps!) while I ran and the freedom it gave us to get around and explore on the long days when it was just the three of us-something that a mom of little ones absolutely craves. I knew even as I moved it aimlessly around our garage that I hung on to it to hang on to the memories.
Last week on my long (solo) run my earbuds died at mile 3 of 13.1 which gave me a lot of time to think. As my mind meandered I came around to the things I was clinging to in this period of transition. The stroller came to mind. I knew it was time to get rid of it and that it was an item that could sell easily. I also knew that based on its value if I sold it at least five people could get clean water for life. I'm ashamed to say that even with this knowledge I tried to convince myself that I still needed it. It was a hard sell-those two voices in my head and five miles left to run. Honestly, I'm in a stage of life right now where there's a lot of letting go. My youngest is heading off to Kindergarten in the fall and both my kids' independence is bursting forth in a really beautiful way. Life is happening fast. And like a friend said to me, "It's hard to see things change, but they are good changes that are supposed to happen. You'd be worried if they didn't." It took those last few miles for me to finally realize that all the letting go was somehow projected onto an object. In the end I made the smart choice. I let it go. Yesterday I gingerly showed another mom all of its many features, gave it a pat and helped her fold it up into her trunk. I almost waved as she drove off-almost.
And now it's gone, but the memories are still there and still just as sweet. I'm happy someone else can use it to make new memories (or just run). In the end, five more people have the gift of clean water, and with it a new and positive life trajectory, all because I loosened my grip just a little bit.
And that's a beautiful thing.
If you'd like to help give the gift of clean water and learn more you can do so here. I am prayerfully trusting that we will get halfway to our overall goal of 200 people with clean water for life by the end of June. Right now we are at 77. You make it possible. Thank you!