The fighting was over . . .

As the referee raised my hand in victory, I searched the crowd for my daughter.

I didn’t care about the glory. I didn’t care that I was a world champion.

All I cared about was holding my daughter.

I stepped off the mats and pushed through the crowd. I saw her run toward me and I scooped her up in my arms.

Something broke open inside me. It was the sweet realization that she was and always had been the one I was fighting for.

Now, the fighting was over.

I’d chased down a gold medal, hoping it would change my life. Now it was time to surrender it to Jesus.