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.
One boy in particular...finish reading the story here.
Thanks for sharing this Kait!
I've added a link to her blog with the rest of the ward sisters in the right column, because truly she is one of us.