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Sunny Side Up March 27, 2002 �2002, Kathleen Gibson Easter�all about falling grace Olympic athletes are a mystery to me. I know nothing of the kind of drive that compels someone to regularly�gladly�endure torn tendons, skate blades to the face, constant bruises, and even unfair judging. Not to mention the restrictive lifestyle and grueling schedules. There�s not enough gold in the universe to transform me into an Olympian. Even if God had granted me athletic ability (he didn�t), I�m too afraid of pain. I don�t even jog. For exercise I walk, skip rope, and jump on a mini-tramp. Period. But I enjoy watching the Olympics, if only to cheer on my country. I was gnawing on my lip as Canadian ice dancers Shae-Lynn Bourne and Victor Kraatz skated towards the last rotation of their final bid for Olympic glory. Surely it would be a medal this time�their program appeared flawless. I was rooting for this dynamic pair; they�d worked so hard and were always so gracious when interviewed, in spite of dubious judgments extended to them in the past. But their program was destined to be one second too long. In their closing rotation disaster struck. Victor, holding Shae-Lynn aloft, leaned a millimeter too far over his blades. As the music faded he lost his grip on both balance and partner, flinging her onto her back on the ice and sprawling headlong beside her. The crowd sucked in a collective gasp and gaped in disbelief as the pair lay there, obviously stunned. In the awful silence, they made not even a feeble attempt to stand. It was over. So too, their chances of receiving an Olympic medal. On my couch, far north of Salt Lake City, I felt like weeping. Their dream was so present�close enough to sniff the scent of the freshly smelted medal. They did everything right; worked so hard, sacrificed so long. And their program was perfect�until its last moment. But the fall meant another fourth place finish. As the pair lay on that vast ice sheet�surely made colder by their ignominious defeat�I waited for Shae-Lynn�s reaction to Victor�s costly error. I would have understood if she�d stalked off the ice without a backward glance at her partner. Instead, clearly determined to catch his plummeting spirits and assure him of her instant forgiveness, Miss Bourne drew herself to her knees, leaned over Victor, kissed him, and helped him to his feet. It was a singular, exquisite act of grace that revealed the heart of a true champion. I saw in that moment a perfect snapshot of Easter grace, and how very much I too need it. Jesus, the perfect one, ended up being the fall guy for my mistakes. Yet his forgiving love looked past my sin, saw my real needs, and reached out to catch my falling soul. Now that�s a championship performance worth believing in. You can respond to this column at [email protected] |
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