What Matters Most

  When I was a college student, my school hosted the Special Olympics. Throughout the semester, I filed registrations, answered questions, compiled the teams, and managed other logistics.  My favorite part of the job, however, came on game day. As the track and field coordinator, it was my task to prepare and arrange the adult athletes for their events.

The 200-meter-dash was about to begin. I gathered the eleven participants and placed them in position. After receiving a thumbs up from each one, I nodded to the announcer.

“Racers ready,” he called. The runners shifted their stance. “Three, two, one…”

At the sound of the gun, they were off. Not exactly in a dash, but with heart and determination. Before the first turn, one man stumbled, tumbling to the pavement.  Spirit crushed, head in his hands, his sobs rang out. I headed to the field to rescue him.

“Wait.” My supervisor pointed up the track. “Look.”

 The other runners had turned around. All of them. One knelt beside him. Two reached down to help him up.  A few more brushed him off. Everyone showered him with hugs, high fives, and fist bumps. And then, arms linked, they finished the race together.

I have long-forgotten much of what I learned in college. I can no longer recall key concepts of calculus or the rules of Spanish verb conjugation. I can’t even remember the last name of the boy I dated sophomore year. Yet, all these years later, those fifteen minutes of competition have stayed with me.

So often, I fall into the trap of excuses. I invent reasons to stay uninvolved and use bureaucracy as a crutch to remain on the sidelines. Yet, when I think of that day on the field, I am encouraged to do better. Those runners didn’t deliberate, form a committee, check the handbook, or wait to see what the other guy would do. They acted.  They set aside their individual goal and responded to a neighbor’s need.

Whenever I get together with college friends, we relive that day. We revisit the lesson shared with us by a group of people who would likely not earn a degree.  Without lectures, textbooks, or charts, they taught us that what matters most is how we treat each other. They showed us that winning for ourselves is not nearly as important as helping someone else win. In the end, it will not matter if we were first to cross the finish line, only that we brought others along with us.

The greatest thing we can do for God is to be kind to His other children.

Author unknown