Well, it's time to admit defeat. If, by some miracle, I could run 10.2 miles a day, but January 1st, I'd have run my 2,012 miles. If, by some miracle, I could find some really rich donor, I could donate to Blue Ridge the amount I'd love for them to have...
But that's ok, because the point is attempting the finish doesn't have to mean a perfect finish.
I've run farther than I ever thought I could run in a year and I have given Blue Ridge Women's center far more donations from wonderful friends than I ever thought I could.
I'm a Pilgrim after all and my holiday is quickly approaching. After almost three years of near-starvation, an alarming shrink in population, and New World horrors realized, the Intrepid William Bradford was still sane enough to unite for a Great Feast Day to give thanks for God doing the impossible--a mild harvest after a great drought. I guarantee his journey was not as he expected when he was elected to be governor after his predecessor died, but he had the sanity to believe the future was brighter than it appeared and that giving of thanks for small feats is only fitting.
William Bradford, I'm giving thanks too though my harvest is small and my strength was weak.
Happy Pilgrim Week to you all!