“I’ll be at class tomorrow,” the text said. I sighed. Undecided again. I feel like lately my weeks spin out of control and the thought of taking the morning to exercise was a luxury. Not that I love to exercise. I don’t. But I know it is good for me and if I want to keep up with my growing kids, I know I need to.
But…
“For what I am doing, I do not understand. For what I will to do, that I do not practice; but what I hate, that I do.” Romans 7:15
The next morning, I go through an incredible amount of mental gymnastics trying to decide if I am going to class or not. Finally, I dress in work-out clothes and head that way after dropping offspring at school. As I start kickboxing next to my mother, (you read that right, it was my mother who held me accountable), I am glad I came. I love this class offered at a local church. The instructor makes me move my body until I think I can’t handle it and then switches moves so that I can continue on. I had told Mom about it, but she became the one diligent in going, not me.
As sweat begins to drip down my back, I ponder on who she is. The Diligent One. The Disciplined One. The Determined One. I wish I had inherited a little bit more of any of those qualities. She’s the type of person that exactly follows doctor’s orders, no matter what. No cheating. At all. She’s pretty much worked out several times a week for the last 30+ years after slipping a disk in her back. The doctor had told her that if she were ever to be pregnant again, she’d spend the last several weeks on bedrest. But no. That woman’s faithfulness to exercise every week of her pregnancy resulted in ZERO days of bedrest. Zero. God used her obedience to perform a miracle!
I pick up a 5lb weight and drop into a lunge musing further…even though she is one of the most disciplined people I know, she extends grace to others over and over. In fact, if I’m honest… which I usually am… she’s much quicker to extend grace to me than I am to her.
…6…7…8… other side…
She’s usually much quicker to ask for forgiveness as well. I pretty much stink at that.
Overhead now…ugh…there’s a new muscle!
I hope that when I’m her age in another 25 years, I can keep up with my daughter in a kickboxing/strength training class. I also hope that I can encourage her to be a better person and to see the best in herself. Like my mother does for me.
I love you, Mom!
Heather Smith
