PUSH

I've been riveted on the boob tube these past two weeks because of the 2012 Olympics in London.

Since I've been watching the games with my American-situated side (Carlo's) of the family, I've been gaga rooting for US athletes.

I would have screamed for our Pinoy brothers but US television [NBC] covered  events mostly involving their own. Besides, it would really be corny and a waste of static energy if you just watched without taking sides and didn't scream for any one.

But when Australian athletes competed alongside their US counterparts, I was honestly conflicted.

Should I cheer for one or the other? Mainly because the other half of our offspring peapod (Lucci's family) has chosen to make Down Under home.

Now I'm faced with a dilemma. In case my grandkids become Olympians themselves---and it's very likely if you ask any grandkid-enamored lolos and lolas---and face each other in future events, I'd be more torn about my cheering options.

Oh well, I'd cross the bridge when I get there.

Meanwhile, I'd probably sound redundant if I raved some more about how great a lot of these athletes have been.

 They've been a picture of perseverance, endurance, stick-to-itiveness, discipline, professionalism, focus and concentration. How I pray ordinary mortals like ourselves would have just a sprinkling of that---then we probably wouldn't bungle life so much.

Awesome. Amazing. Greatest (ascribed to Michael Phelps). Astonishing. Strongest. Wonderful. Fastest (sprinter Usain Bolt). Most enduring (35 mile-runner Stephen Kiprotich, Uganda's first gold medalist). These superlatives continued to spill over and over again from commentators and anchors over the airlanes.

But that's what the Olympics is all about. The best vying for the gold and the gold alone; and the honor of being inscribed forever in history as the greatest in their field.

If I had my way, I'd give the highest tribute to moms and dads who never let up praying, believing, cheering and always positioning themselves strategically in the audience to cheer for and goad their sons and daughters to "just do it."

That's what Father God does too:

Constantly present---strengthening, guiding, leading, cheering, supporting, providing, healing, and doing everything else necessary to encourage us to run the course and prop us up during discouraging and painful situations.

So we can Michael-Phelps-or-Usain-Bolt it in whatever arena of life we choose to run.

"For I can do everything through Christ, who gives me strength." (Philippians 4:13)

This metaphor graphically illustrates His steadfast nurturing:

Mother eagle knows when her eaglet is ready to fly. She makes the nest such an unpleasant place to cuddle in by filling it with rocks or twigs; then pushes him steadily to the edge to test if he could spread his wings when he falls.

More: Bringing him up on the air, she drops the tiny eaglet, again and again, at higher levels---to train him some more; till he could fly, then soar!

Michael Phelps and company didn't develop those powerful muscles and winning strokes in comfort and ease.  They strained and trained and learned. And strained and trained and learned some more.

That's why they deserved those medals. Take a bow, parents.

Thank you, Father God. You are the ultimate Parent.