I have been going through my files that have been put back after many years and destroying most of them that would be of no value to anyone. I ran across this one I wanted to share because i feel is is worthy of posting.
Today I Saw Truth by Elam Hill
Today I saw truth. For a moment I lived and breathed in the great presence of truth and felt its sweetness plunge deep into my soul.
I am a coach in a Junior High School. I work with 500 boys each day. This has been my occupation for over 20 years. I enjoy it.
Traditionally, I am supposed to be rugged, tough, crusty; yet underneath this exterior, feeling and understanding must exist if the job is to be done.
Today was test day in climbing the rope. We climb from a standing start to a 15 foot height.. One of my tasks these past few weeks has been to train and teach the boys to negotiate this distance in as few seconds as possible.
The school record for this event is 2.1 seconds. It has stood for three years. Today this record was broken. But it is not my story. How this record was broken is the important thing here, as it so often is in many endeavor in life.
For three years Bobby Palacio, a 141/2 year old Mexican boy, has trained and pointed and, and I suspect, dreamed of breaking this record.
In his first of three attempts Bobby climbs the rope in 2.1 seconds, tying the record. On the second try the watch stopped at 2.0 seconds flat, a record! But as he descended the rope and the entire class gathered around to check the watch, I knew I must ask Bobby a question. There was a slight doubt in my mind whether or not the board at the 15 foot height had been touched. If he missed, it was very very close-- not more than a fraction of an inch-- and only Bobby knew the answer.
As he walked toward me, expressionless, I said, "Bobby did you touch?" If he had said "Yes," the record he had dreamed of since he was a skinny 7th grader and had worked for almost daily would be his, and he knew I would trust him at his word.
With the class already cheering for him for his performance, the slim brown-skinned boy shook his head negatively. And in this simple gesture, I witnessed a moment of greatness.
Coaches do not cry, only babies cry, they say. But as i reached out to pat this boy on the shoulder, there was a small drop of water in each eye. And it it was with great effort through a tight throat that I told the class :"This boy has not set a record in the rope climb. No, he has set a much finer record for you and everyone to strive for. He has told the simple truth."
After the other boys had finished their next turns and Bobby came up to the rope for his try, a strange stillness came over the gym. Fifty boys and one coach were breathlessly set to boost Bobby Palacio to a new record. He climed the rope in 1.9 seconds! A school record, a city record and perhaps a national record.
When the bell rang and I walked away, now misty eyed, from this group of boys, I was thinking, "Bobby, little brown skin, with your clear, bright, dark eyes and yiur straight, trim, lithe body--Bobby, at 14 you are a better man than I am. Thank you for climbing so very, very high today."