The Water Station

Today’s a new day! Over the last few months, I have written a collection of short stories entitled “Miles That Still Matter.” I thought I would share another one with you today. ~OC

The church hosted a community 5K every spring.

For years, Ed had been one of the lead runners. Now he volunteered at the water station near mile two.

At first, he hated it.

Watching runners glide past felt like torture.

But halfway through the race, a teenage boy stopped near the table, bent over, exhausted.

“I can’t do this,” the boy gasped.

Ed handed him water.

“What’s your name?”

“Eli.”

“First race?”

The boy nodded.

Ed smiled. “You know the biggest lie in distance running?”

Eli shrugged.

“That strong runners never struggle.”

Ed pointed down the road.

“The best runners in the world hit walls. They cramp. They doubt themselves. The difference is they keep moving.”

Eli looked unconvinced.

Ed continued, “That’s true spiritually too. 

Following Jesus doesn’t mean you never get tired. It means you keep turning toward Him when you are.”

The starting horn echoed faintly in the distance behind them.

Ed said softly, “The cross was uphill too.”

Eli stood quietly for a moment.

Then he took another cup of water.

“I think I can finish.”

Ed grinned.

“One mile at a time.”

As Eli jogged away, Ed realized something holy:

God had taken him off the racecourse so he could stand at the water station for hurting souls.