I Can Do Hard Things
"You can do hard things."
I can't remember the circumstance that prompted those words to be directly spoken to me initially, but I do know it's a phrase I have heard more than once since then, as an encouragement, when I've shared that I am facing something difficult.This last week it has been part of my daily mantra. More days than not, "I can do hard things" is something I have repeated to myself several times a day.
I whispered it as I said goodnight to these sweet faces last Wednesday night, knowing the only one I'd see Thursday morning was Ruth since I had to be at the airport at 6 AM.
 |
| Mia, Ruth, me, Xavier,Avery at Zoo Lights Kyle had a meeting and couldn't join us |
It ended up being on a loop in my head all day last Thursday as I flew home. Delays, an airline change, a terminal change, a probable missed final connection, and the stress of figuring out plans if that happened since my flight was the last one to Huntington until the next morning. Prayer and speed walking got me where I needed to be with 9 minutes to spare.
It came back to mind Friday at 1:16 pm when I found out that the plan I had for the evening was based on assumptions I'd made rather than on facts. The Polar Express Ride that Beth, the kids and I were going on with Mike's family was in Connersville Indiana, not Cincinnati Ohio. I had to pack my car, get gasoline and drive 3 hours and 16 minutes, by 5pm. I refuse to divulge how I made it with minutes to spare. It wasn't easy, but I did it. Supper afterward at Wendy's and the hour drive home got us into Cincinnati about 11:30 PM. So tired, sleeping in sounded wonderful, but our planned weekend together had just begun.
8 AM Saturday morning we got the kids up and drove to Gatlinburg Tennessee for a competitive cheer weekend competition. Why? Because three of Sarah's girls are part of a team. We arrived at Beth's about 11:30 Sunday night.
Lunch at KCU with friends.
Fall decor put away, Christmas wreaths and last of nativities and Christmas stuff out.
Rest.
Simply thinking about the last 5 days is exhausting.
The interstate is minutes from Beth's house, and as I merged into my lane, I heard the answer to a prayer I've prayed sporadically for 27+ years.
"Today is the day".
What Lord?
Are you sure?
"Yes."
But it is gray.
Cloudy and rainy.
Lord, it is gloomy.
"Yeah, I know, but I want you to do it today."
But I don't think the timing is right.
Another day would surely be better.
"Nope, I want you to do it today. Rain, clouds, grayness and all."
Reluctantly I agreed, saying, okay, after I eat lunch and do the stuff on my list, I'll go.
"No, I want you to go directly home, get the stuff and head to Tammy's."
I was tired of arguing.
As I drove the AA I prayed and repeated, "I can do hard things". Because this thing He was releasing me to do was going to be hard. Not only for me, but for my friends as well.
I pulled into my drive, mocked by the sign.
I was struggling to be thankful.
I knew what was ahead.
It was hard to lift that first layer and push aside the second.
that Bible
that bear
are more,
much, much more than what you see
they are dreams shared with a dear friend when we were pregnant at the same time,
they are plans made of adventures our children would share
they are reminders
that our dreams were shattered
and our plans forever changed
I had to decide how to get these sacred, irreplaceable items from my house to hers.
This certainly called for more than a WalMart bag.
It was raining so a box was not an option.
Carrying them exposed wasn't right.
Neither was placing them in a gift bag.
I'd protected these treasures for a long time,
there was no way I was going to take a chance on anything getting ruined now.
I found a new, plastic shoebox in my sewing room.
Perfect.
I placed the Bible in the bottom, fluffed the bear and put it in, face down, gently laid the ribbons alongside and pushed the lid until it clicked securely closed.
I reverently and reluctantly carried the box outside and placed it on the front seat of my car.
As I drove Landsdowne to deliver what I've held dear, I had a flashback to one of the hardest things I've ever faced. I was once again simply walking down this incline as part of my morning exercise. I could see our friend Cindy approach me, crying. I heard her tell me Tim and Tammy's little girl had died in her sleep. I felt afresh the pain and the guilt I carried that my baby was growing safely in my womb. I remembered Tammy's sobs, heard her questions and shared her anguish knowing she was not going to hold her sweet baby girl again this side of heaven. It was almost like sitting with her in it once more.
The closer I got to her house today the more my stomach rolled and my head pounded.
I was not disappointed when I arrived and neither she nor Tim were home. I had a reprieve. Time to go home and pray and think some more. because I still was clueless about how God wanted me to go about returning the Bible and bear that had been in their baby's casket and the ribbons that had been part of the arrangement on top of it.
I texted Tammy and we made arrangements to get together this evening. Her afternoon opened up and she called, offering to pick up ice cream or coffee and bring it to my house. They are moving soon and she was concerned about the condition of her house. Guilt knocked on my door when I asked her if she thought I was coming over to see her house because I knew why we needed to be there, not here, today. She had no idea. It's been years since I asked her if she was ready for me to give her these things.
She went to DQ and got us Blizzards.
I went to God and begged for Him to provide whatever I needed and whatever she needed for the exchange that was going to take place.
I got to her house before she did. When she arrived I got out of my car and opened the passenger door. It was awkward. I still wasn't prepared so I picked up the shoebox and tucked it under my arm. She carried the Blizzards. I carried the treasured burden. She was smiling. I wasn't ready to cry so when we got in the house I put the box on the end of the couch, covered it with my coat, accepted my blizzard and tried to ignore the box as we chatted and ate.
I knew she had evening plans.
I knew she might need a minute to recover, so finally I got up enough nerve to ask her what time it was.
She asked me what time I wanted it to be.
I wanted to say any time but this time.
Because I knew it was "the time".
Slowly I withdrew the box from its hiding place and gently opened it.
A look of pure wonder overtook her face.
She gently stroked, then cuddled the bear.
She gingerly opened the Bible, read the words written on several pages and caressed the cover where her daughter's name is engraved.
She ran her fingers over the glittered words on the ribbons.
We cried.
As hard as it was to protect and care for these items,
it was almost harder to give guardianship up.
But it was time.
They need to make the move with Tammy and Tim.
As I was leaving, Tammy said "this is what real friends do, isn't it."
I knew she meant the hard things.
The sitting with "in it".
The holding on.
The protecting.
The letting go.
I know it's how I want to do friendship, because none of us should face hard things alone.
I'd protected these treasures for a long time,
there was no way I was going to take a chance on anything getting ruined now.
I found a new, plastic shoebox in my sewing room.
Perfect.
I placed the Bible in the bottom, fluffed the bear and put it in, face down, gently laid the ribbons alongside and pushed the lid until it clicked securely closed.
I reverently and reluctantly carried the box outside and placed it on the front seat of my car.
As I drove Landsdowne to deliver what I've held dear, I had a flashback to one of the hardest things I've ever faced. I was once again simply walking down this incline as part of my morning exercise. I could see our friend Cindy approach me, crying. I heard her tell me Tim and Tammy's little girl had died in her sleep. I felt afresh the pain and the guilt I carried that my baby was growing safely in my womb. I remembered Tammy's sobs, heard her questions and shared her anguish knowing she was not going to hold her sweet baby girl again this side of heaven. It was almost like sitting with her in it once more.
The closer I got to her house today the more my stomach rolled and my head pounded.
I was not disappointed when I arrived and neither she nor Tim were home. I had a reprieve. Time to go home and pray and think some more. because I still was clueless about how God wanted me to go about returning the Bible and bear that had been in their baby's casket and the ribbons that had been part of the arrangement on top of it.
I texted Tammy and we made arrangements to get together this evening. Her afternoon opened up and she called, offering to pick up ice cream or coffee and bring it to my house. They are moving soon and she was concerned about the condition of her house. Guilt knocked on my door when I asked her if she thought I was coming over to see her house because I knew why we needed to be there, not here, today. She had no idea. It's been years since I asked her if she was ready for me to give her these things.
She went to DQ and got us Blizzards.
I went to God and begged for Him to provide whatever I needed and whatever she needed for the exchange that was going to take place.
I got to her house before she did. When she arrived I got out of my car and opened the passenger door. It was awkward. I still wasn't prepared so I picked up the shoebox and tucked it under my arm. She carried the Blizzards. I carried the treasured burden. She was smiling. I wasn't ready to cry so when we got in the house I put the box on the end of the couch, covered it with my coat, accepted my blizzard and tried to ignore the box as we chatted and ate.
I knew she had evening plans.
I knew she might need a minute to recover, so finally I got up enough nerve to ask her what time it was.
She asked me what time I wanted it to be.
I wanted to say any time but this time.
Because I knew it was "the time".
Slowly I withdrew the box from its hiding place and gently opened it.
A look of pure wonder overtook her face.
She gently stroked, then cuddled the bear.
She gingerly opened the Bible, read the words written on several pages and caressed the cover where her daughter's name is engraved.
She ran her fingers over the glittered words on the ribbons.
We cried.
As hard as it was to protect and care for these items,
it was almost harder to give guardianship up.
But it was time.
They need to make the move with Tammy and Tim.
As I was leaving, Tammy said "this is what real friends do, isn't it."
I knew she meant the hard things.
The sitting with "in it".
The holding on.
The protecting.
The letting go.
I know it's how I want to do friendship, because none of us should face hard things alone.
Wow--so thankful for your obedience.
ReplyDelete