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“What do you know, my wife’s favorite couple is in the lead,” he says with a wink as we come to a stop in front of him. “We knew you two had it in you to work together.” He pats me on the shoulder, and it’s actually nice, his belief in us. Amazing how having a little humility can change the way you interpret the intentions of others. Sometimes people want to help you not because they see you as weak or because they have some sort of ulterior motive, but simply because they care about you.

“What’s the last part of the race?” Jill asks, a little breathless.

Mick grins. “The wheelbarrow.” He wags his eyebrows at me. “So grab your wife’s ankles, my friend, and finish this thing.”

“The wheelbarrow,” Jill echoes. “Got it.” She hops down on the ground in a push up position. “Grab my ankles, Max. Let’s win this!”

I do as she says, loving her competitive nature. And also the view of her butt from this angle.

Grinning to myself I grab hold of her ankles, and we set off. Thankfully the finish line isn’t too far. I can see the final flag about thirty feet ahead.

“Not too much further!” I cry, feeling Jill slowing as we pass the halfway mark.

“Arms. Burning,” she gasps.

“You got this, Jill. You’re the toughest woman I know.”

I’ve said the right thing, because she doubles down and gets her arms moving. We’re closing in on the finish line, so close to winning this thing, when out of nowhere, Walter comes bounding over to us–and promptly starts licking Jill in the face.

“Walter!” we both cry. Jill’s arms collapse and she sinks to the ground, half-squealing, half-laughing as Walter continues to stick his nose on her cheeks and hair.

“Okay. Wal.Ter!” she ekes out between laughs, managing to sit up. “Calm down, boy.”

“Walter, sit.” I try to intervene, but instead of sitting he turns his attention my way and crouches into a play position, barking joyfully.

I know we have a race to win, but the dog is just so cute. I can’t help but laugh at his antics. God really created something special when He made dogs.

“Okay, Walter, boy,” Jill says with mock sternness, “we have to finish our race. Then we can play with you.”

Right. The race. Someone just passed us. We need to get moving.

“Sit,” I tell the dog. Thankfully his initial playfulness has settled, putting him back in an obedient mood. So sit he does. “Stay,” I tell him. He cocks his head, but does as instructed. “Good boy.”

Jill and I don’t waste any more time. We get back into wheelbarrow position and set off, trying to recover our lead from the couple that passed us. Our efforts are almost immediately thwarted by Walter—again. He jumps on Jill’s back, sitting there like she’s some sort of palanquin for dogs and he’s expecting the crowds to roar for their new dog king. I expect Jill to collapseunder the added weight but she just lets out an oomph and keeps going. Our progress is slow, but steady.

“Walter!” I call. “Get off.Off.” The dog doesn’t move, and now another couple is passing us. The finish line is too close to make up the distance, but as I step forward continuing to try and urge Walter off of Jill, I realize that I don’t care that we’re not going to win. Not this time.

I’m too happy about being a team again. About knowing that we’ve already won something more important this weekend. We’ve won our marriage back.

As suddenly as Walter jumped onto Jill, he decides to jump off. For a second I’m mesmerized by the sight of a literal burden being removed from Jill. Holy Spirit clarity strikes my soul like an arrow hitting the bullseye, calling my attention to the metaphorical burdens Christ promises to be able to remove for us.Come to Me all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.

It’s the piece of all this that I don’t want to miss: if Jill and I want our marriage to thrive we need to be centered on Christ. That’s where our true strength and victory lies, and it’s in Christ that we can find rest from the rat race we’ve been running.

I set Jill’s ankles down, and she turns to me in surprise.

“Max, what’s wrong?”

“Let’s come in last,” I say boldly.

“Last?” she says like it’s the newest four-letter word.

“Yeah.” I shrug. “For once, let’s stop striving and just be.” As if he wants to offer his support of this idea, Walter zooms over and settles himself on the ground at my feet, smiling up at us with his tongue hanging out.

“Stop striving and just be,” Jill echoes in wonder, eyes flicking to Walter.

“Yeah,” I repeat. “Also, I think we should get a dog. And we should start walking it—as a couple and a family.” I smile, thenlower myself down next to Walter, looping my arm around his neck. “And we need to get back to Friday date nights and church as a family every week—not just when I can fit it in. And we should join a new small group or maybe even start one.”

“Hannah and Brooke are in Belinda Lagman’s small group,” Jill says softly, like she’s beginning to catch my vision. “All three of them have invited us to join, but it’s on Thursday nights. You always work late on Thursday nights.”