‘Which boy is the fastest, Mummy?’ My eldest son asks as he get dressed, as he puts his shoes on, as he paces to the end of the garden. Seizing any opportunity to outrun, outdo, and out-perform his almost-two year old brother; these are the conundrums that I am regularly faced with.
As both Mummy and adjudicator, I am not about to make a comment on who wins.
At the age of four, Joshua has skills, experience, abilities, and strengths that Zachary hasn’t had the chance to attain just yet.
To assess or judge or measure them against each other in any sort of competition would be unfair.
It would be unreasonable.
It would even be cruel.
My response a few weeks back has remained, and is repeated, whenever the question arises.
‘Joshua wins the four year-old race and Zachary wins the one-year-old race.’
Diplomatic, perhaps. But the concept spoke volumes to me of the futility of comparison.
Of the power of staying the course in our own lane.
In Hebrews 12 we read:
And let us run with perseverance, the race marked out for us.
There is a race that is marked out and is ours alone to run.