Slow and Steady

"Slow and steady wins the race." Perhaps this phrase was coined in the story of the tortoise and the hare, I don't know. But it is the first place I ever heard it.

I am sure we have all heard the story. The hare and tortoise agree to race. Hare dashes off with lightening speed leaving tortoise in the dust. Hare is so certain of his own ability and supremely confident that his great speed is unmatched that he stops to take a nap in the middle of the race. Tortoise just keeps up a slow steady pace and wins, much to the hares surprise and embarrassment.

Recently some friends were visiting me from out of town. I took them to the Great Smoky Mountains for a day. They decided to brave the hike up Clingman's Dome, an unusually steep up hill trail that leads to a platform which rises above the trees and overlooks the magnificent mountains. I knew well how grueling this trek can be, for I have done it many times since childhood.

When I was young my family would vacation yearly at the Smokie's. I can recall vividly the long hikes in which I would start out running ahead only to find my self, in short order, dragging along, certain I would never reach the top. When exhausted, I would reach out for daddy's hand and he would pull me along. As we approached a resting place with an inviting bench, I would try to release my hand and rush to the shady haven. My father would tighten his grip and encourage me to keep putting one foot in front of the other. "You can do it, one more step, excellent now take another." His voice was calm and steady, confident, he believed in me. I decided, that if he thought I could do it, it must be true. So on I trudged until finally with great elation I reached the summit and daddy would say. "See I knew you could do it." I felt like I had conquered the world on those occasions, quickly forgetting that "I" had not done it. At least not alone. It was the encouragement and strength of my father that had gotten me to the top. Had he not held my hand I would still be at the halfway mark. Then would come the return trip. The descent was so much easier, or so I thought. Things were suddenly much easier for me. I had no trouble catching my breath and my legs seemed to have more energy than I could contain. I no longer wanted to stop at the benches. I wanted to sprint full speed to the bottom. I wouldn't reach for daddy's hand then. No, I was confident in my own abilities. My parents would warn me, "Don't run, you will loose your balance and fall." But these warnings never ceased to go in one ear and straight out the other. No matter how many times their warnings proved true, the next year I was off again, feeling sure that I had matured and grown up enough to handle it this time. I can't count the times I landed hard, skinning my knees, hands, elbows, and pride.

So, recently arriving there with my friends, I knew I would be much slower than them. I told them to go ahead and I would come along at my own pace, adding for them not to wait on me at the top because I might only go part way up. As I slowly, steadily trudged up the trail my memories of those days came flooding back. My legs ached and my lungs burned, but I could hear my father say, "Come on honey, one more step, you can do it." People would pass me as though I were standing still, but soon I would find them resting on a bench. I would crawl by at my snails pace and soon they would speed by me again. Back and forth it went. I refused to sit down and just kept moving however imperceptibly it might have been. But, finally as I neared the top of the overlook, I stepped onto the platform in front of those who had passed me repeatedly. I felt a real sense of accomplishment but, more than that, it solidified some truths for me.

I know that I have often run ahead with a false confidence that left me sitting on a bench along the sidelines of life, or worse, lying flat on my face in pain. As I look back along the trails of my life I realize, the only timesI have reached any summits have been when my hand was securely in that of my heavenly Father's. I see that when times were easier for me and it was all "down hill hiking" that I was even in more danger because I felt no need of my heavenly Fathers hand.

God has been patient and steady, teaching me to move ahead one step at a time, relying on His strength instead of my own.

I am confident my friends, that no matter what we may be facing, be it rugged mountains, deep dark valleys, or "easy" down hill trails, we have a heavenly Father who can and will see us through. We need only place our confidence in Him and move ahead in His strength instead of our own.

Slow and steady, relying on God we will win the race.

Bonnie Morsette ~ 8/5/2009