The Streets of Fargo

This photo popped up on my Facebook page Saturday morning. It was taken by Jon Forness, a gifted and skilled photographer friend. It was reminding me that it was the 10-year anniversary of when my good friend Rory Eidsness and I ran the Fargo Marathon together in May of 2010.

Seeing the photo filled me with all kinds of emotions that I wasn’t quite expecting. First off, I was baffled by the fact that it’s been 10 years already. My how time flies. Time marches on. Life seems to accelerate. How did I get this old? Where did it all go? Every cliché in the book came out.

Mostly though, I just smiled with a great deal of fond and meaningful memories. Memories of all the miles Rory and I logged in preparation. Memories of physical aches and pains and suffering in training. Memories of Lee Larson and his welding crew from NDSCS who enthusiastically agreed to design and create a sleek and highly functional pushcart. Memories of the thousands of people, both dear friends and complete strangers that cheered us on, held up signs, got in our face with positive encouragement, shouted our names, handed us water and food, gave us high-fives, and prayed for us. Memories of all the doubts and fears and wondering if we could pull this off. Memories of tears that filled my face hidden by the sweat being humbled by all the love and support we experienced along the 26.2 miles. Memories of running into the Fargo Dome under police escort and hearing our name announced and people standing to cheer us on in our final steps. Memories of spinning Rory around to take a victory applause from the crowd. Memories of the smile on Rory’s face. Memories of relief, satisfaction, gratitude and accomplishment. These were precious and cherished memories to be sure.

A lot of life has passed under the bridge since that day. Rory and I did lots together in the years that followed, speaking engagements, deer hunting, going to movies and just hanging out. He moved away with his wife Kari a couple of summers ago and now resides in Denver. We keep in touch frequently via email, though I have not seen him face-to-face since he left. He swears he still bleeds purple and gold and has not gone over to the dark side of the Broncos. I trust him. We both share a common malady and belief: “Maybe… this is our year!”

The Fargo Marathon was a fabulous experience taking us through a wide variety of the streets of Fargo and Moorhead. And then, Saturday those same streets played host to thousands of people gathering to march in protest of the death of George Floyd. Saturday evening the scene in downtown Fargo turned ugly. These same streets that had held thousands of cheering fans for our marathon, now filled with shouting demonstrators and police-lines. Watching the television, I was in shock and disbelief as I watched the scene unfolding before us on our normal peaceful streets of Fargo.

Tear gas, sirens, broken windows, vandalism, graffiti writing on walls and tension everywhere. My gut began to tighten, and a sense of overwhelming anxiety began to invade our home. I could see the tension and fear on my son Shane’s face, and my wife Ady, sat in disbelief shaking her head. At 10 pm, I told them I had to go to church, and I could visibly see the tension rising in their faces as they each took in a deep breath as I walked out the door.

As I drove into work Monday morning, I could feel a tension in my gut, a sense of uptightness or anxiousness despite a gorgeous and beautiful sunny day. A heaviness pervaded my outlook and I couldn’t pinpoint it or shake it. Why was I feeling so unsettled in the presence of a beautiful morning? Then I began thinking about the recent weeks; the young black jogger Ahmaud Arbery who was gunned down by two white men in Georgia. Police Officer Cody Holte was killed in the line of duty in Grand Forks. George Floyd’s death at the hands of Minneapolis police officers. The demonstrations, rioting and looting across our nation in response to the outrage over Floyd’s death. Massive unemployment. Immigrants amassing at our southern border. Climate change. All of this, still in the middle of the surreal and unprecedented Covid crisis.

Uncertainty, shaky, unsettled, nervous, angry, anxious, unprecedented, fearful, strange, unfamiliar, ambiguous, tentative, gloomy, murky, unsettled, sadness, and division, are all words I’ve heard floating in conversations of late. I’ve used several of these myself in relation to my own work and the world situation. Talking heads abound on TV news offering endless theories, view-points and opinion, but very little in the way of answers or understanding. It’s hard for me, and most likely for you, to know what our role is in all of this; how to be an effective Christ-like servant in the midst of the Covid crisis, and attempting to understand what role we each play in racism, inequality and the suffering of others. How does my lifestyle, upbringing, ignorance, or blindness hurt my fellow human beings? Answers and solutions seem far from my simple mind’s grasp. Only questions and uncertainty remain for me.

My favorite new song of late, that I like for many reasons, is Chris Tomlin’s, “Is He Worthy?”:

Do you feel the world is broken? (We do) Do you feel the shadows deepen? (We do)
But do you know, that all the dark, won't stop the light from getting through? (We do)
Do you wish that you could see it all made new? (We do)
Is all creation groaning? (It is) Is a new creation coming? (It is)
Is the glory of the Lord, to be the light within our midst? (It is) Is it good that we remind ourselves of this? (It is)