Early April is a time of excitement and adventure in our family. As many of you know, we are very involved with the Boston Marathon. It is a very busy time, and April 10^th was no exception. My daughter Rebecca had informed me that a container would be delivered between 8 am and noon. She planned to pack the items that she still has at our house into the container to be shipped out to Montana where she lives.  At about 10:15, I could hear a truck hitting branch after branch as it approached our house. A very large, almost moving van size, truck stopped in front of the house with a 28-foot-long container.  I had expected a six-foot pod so was shocked when the driver said that he would leave the entire container. After examining various possibilities as to where the truck could gain access to our driveway, and where the container could be placed, there appeared to be no options. I watched as the driver spent ten minutes maneuvering the behemoth as he attempted to get turned around and headed back down the street. Back to the drawing board on shipping belongings to Montana.

In the late afternoon I attended the final organizational meeting of the Start Committee for the Boston Marathon. The usual excitement and camaraderie filled the air as we went over all the final plans for Marathon Monday. We were assigned radios, reviewed the layout of the Athletes’ Village and the area around the start line, how certain groups would enter the system, and were instructed how to empty the corrals in the event of an emergency. After that meeting, I went to a Southborough Open Land Foundation meeting that lasted two hours and was slightly less exciting, but important. By the time I got home, I was exhausted. I checked Rebecca’s flight schedule and saw that it would be landing on time, around midnight. I went to bed, very thankful that my daughter Amanda was planning to pick up Rebecca on her way down from Vermont, sparing me the drive to Logan. She was driving my car which she had borrowed the last time she had been here.

The phone rang at 12:20 AM, always an alarming time to receive a call. “Mom, we have a problem. We have a flat tire. Where should they take the car? There is no spare tire. It is $5 per mile beyond the first 3 miles. Oh, and you’re going to have to come pick us up.” Having no idea what was available near Logan, I said they should take it out to Framingham.  It turns out there is nothing available within three miles of Logan anyway! As I was getting dressed, it occurred to me that my AAA membership includes up to 100 miles of towing, and since Rebecca is on my plan, I quickly texted her to change the AAA from Amanda’s card to hers. At 12:30 in the morning, the drive to Logan was easy, although I did have to navigate a slalom course of orange coned lane closures in Boston. The arrival lane was quite crowded, so I was happy to find a spot at the curb and texted Rebecca and Amanda that I had arrived. They replied that I would have to move further down the line because they had too much stuff to carry.  I maneuvered around some cars until I spotted what looked like a pair of gypsies with piles of belongings. Amanda had casually thrown all her marathon racing gear, including 12 pairs of shoes because she wasn’t sure which ones she would wear, into the car as well as groceries, and the dog size carrying case in which she transported her two cats. Since she was going to be here longer than a couple of days, she had brought Galileo and Newton with her. thinking it would be one less thing for Michael to worry about when he and Adina came down on Friday. We loaded everything into the car, and had an easy drive home. After dropping them off in Ashland, I got home at 2:30.  

As I thought about my Paul Revere ride into Boston, I could not help but think how grateful I was that:

• The tire had not blown out while Amanda was driving on the interstates
• That Adina had not been in the car and had to wait for a ride
• That I had the extra miles for AAA towing
• That the weather was good
• That the girls had each other for company as they awaited my arrival
• That my daughters were here to help make family decisions

Two days later, the Watters women were in Boston as volunteers at the Marathon Expo handing out numbers to the runners. There are runners from all around the world, but they share the same eager air of excitement and anticipation. When I asked one woman for her ID, she handed me her Ukrainian passport. I asked her if she had trained in Ukraine and when she said yes, the volunteer next to me joined me in listening to her tell her story. Her son is in the military and she runs to raise money for a military assistance group. Words of support were exchanged, eyes were brimming, and hands were held. She had a passerby take a picture of the three of us together.

A few days earlier I had thought I was facing some problems, but there are always those who are dealing with much greater challenges. I was doubly thankful for the safe arrival of my daughters, and for the blessings in our lives.

Sally Watters, Deacon