I was watching the Olympics yesterday in our new hospital residence. Michael Phelps was swimming for gold medal number 8. Track and field just started with sprinters running the 100 meter dash in under 10 seconds. Each one is striving for personal bests if not the gold medal itself. Great victories. One obscure performer was a member of the Congo contingent. He’s a swimmer with swim trunks similar to mine, likely no dietary specialist and no coach, looking nervously at others to identify protocol, not even certain how to stand on the starting block or when to dive in. He lost his heat in dramatic fashion 14 seconds behind the first place finisher. His victory was just getting to the other side of the pool only 50 meters away. I looked at my son, who is just trying to make it through chemo one more time; one more day. We looked over at each other and quietly shed tears. No words were necessary. There was just a silent acknowledgement that sometimes the victory you’re looking for is just getting to the other end of the pool- to next day- when everyone else is racing for grand accomplishments. We hit our target. He’s still here, sick and much slower today with the effects of treatment. But, he’s still here, at peace and loving God and his family. Thanks to all who celebrate the small victories with the same verve as the great ones.