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| When I Google searched "anchor runner" this is what I got. |
For the first time in a year we had an honest to goodness person-to-person activity tonight with the Relief Society and Young Women in our church. It was a small group, just our adult RS and YW presidencies and the oldest teenage girls in our congregation. The bishop was the lone papa bear among us. We played some fun games, wearing our masks and celebrating that many of us are vaccinated, and chatted for a minute about how old ladies are just young girls in wrinkly overgrown bodies. It was divine to do something that resembled a normal social gathering.
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| It felt like a piece of heaven to gather in a cluster of humans tonight. |
Sixteen-year-old Sierra Yerman came in late, apologizing because she had a track meet.
“How was it? “I asked.
“Great!” she answered, then added, “I even got a PR." She said it so matter-of-factly that the rest of the conversation among the ladies let it slip by, but I noticed and gave a whoop. She joined in with the other conversation and let it slide, but I celebrate her and the fact that she achieved a personal record today. Sierra is a girl who I predict will have many more personal bests in her future. A few of them will be in track. Some will be in mountain biking. Some will be academic. Some will involve spiritual goals. But most, I suspect, will be in races she does not yet even realize she will run. She is just a stellar soul.
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| Sierra Yerman killing it on the mountain for Farmington High School Team Phoenix |
Ironically, just this morning I finished reading a book about Sierra’s grandfather, Jack Yerman, and a few of his remarkable life achievements. Sierra comes by her gifts genetically.
Jack Yerman is a man of diverse talents. He played college football at UC Berkley (Rose Bowl 1959) and he earned a Gold Medal in the Rome Olympics (1960), breaking the world record in the 4 by 400 relay. He held a number of records for a long time. The book, beautifully written by his oldest son Bruce, only tells a portion of his life. Logic and experience tells me that the most meaningful part of Jack Yerman probably came after the Rose Bowl ring and Olympic Gold Medal. I have a personal bias for the part that includes the birth and life of his son Blake, who moved up the street from us when he took a job as an ER Doctor here in Utah. Blake was smart enough to marry the young, bright and beautiful Kathryn Safsen, who bore five of the coolest kids I know. So I guess we all owe a lot to Jack Yerman.
My brother and husband both ran relay in high school and college. The concept of a relay race is intriguing to me, because it involves as much psychology as athletic prowess. I don’t know much about it, truthfully, but I know that there are four runners, they carry a baton which they hand off to each other, there is a strong lead off runner (that’s what Jack was) and an anchor runner, the one who runs the last leg.
A few years back another neighbor, Ted Gardiner, gave a stellar talk in our church Sacrament Meeting. The topic was Jesus Christ, the central theme of all Sacrament Meetings in our church. But the story that led us to understand Jesus a little better involved Ted’s experience running the 4 by 440 for Davis High School, back in the day. Ted related that he was good enough to be on the relay team, and that team won State his senior year. But the thing Ted believed made them a championship team was their anchor runner. I don’t recall his name, but he ended up having a stellar career beyond high school.
The basic strategy in this particular race is that the strongest runner on a team takes the anchor leg. He or she is able to analyze, at rapid speed I might add, the lay of the land as the race progresses. They take the baton and use all their power to make up the difference, if necessary, or nail down a lead already in place. Ted said they were good, but essentially they never would have won without their anchor.
Then he read us this scripture:
Hebrews 6: 19,20
“This hope we have as an anchor of the soul, a hope both sure and steadfast and one which enters within the veil, where Jesus has entered as a forerunner for us….”
I have always thought of the Savior and his Gospel as a big old heavy metal anchor, sitting there at the bottom of the stormy sea, holding my rocking ship in a safe harbor. And that image works.
Jesus as a still and stable and solid holder is sweet. But I get goosebumps thinking of Jesus as a powerful, well trained, focused runner, anchoring the race in which I am a team member. He uses his wits to analyze where I stand in the race, and just as it feels like I might lose, he kicks his feet and pulls us ahead to the finish line.
Some days I am a sluggish rickety old boat trying to stay afloat in roiling waters. But I like to think of myself with a little more strength, a bit more passion, as if my legs are trying to keep up with my will. That version of myself feels more true, at least more desirable. But I know my limitations, regardless of my righteous desires. I’ll give it my all. But I know it won’t be enough.
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| We all need a good dependable anchor. |
I trust the hand that takes the baton and carries me over the finish line.
He carries you, too.
