(c) All rights reserved, Martin Young
I’ve had my share of struggles–everyone has them. Some struggles are big, and others are ginormous! How do you know to keep fighting or cut your losses and walk away from your struggle?
Stay focused on the issue. Comparing your pain to someone else only adds to the problem. How someone hurts is personal. For me, all I need to know is that I hurt. When I compare myself to others, I tend to felt guilty for how silly I may appear.
Pain isn’t silly. Hurt is hurt. Struggles are struggles. Focus on what needs to be done.
It can be all-encompassing.
It can motivate as well as freeze you in your tracks.
It can make you cry out or quiet your voice to a whisper.
It can own you, or it can arouse the need for freedom.
Don’t let the voices in your head decide how you view fear. We all deal with it, so don’t run from it. Instead, dig deep into it. Find out where it’s coming from.
What are you truly afraid of?
“I might as well give up.”
“Nobody would miss me.”
“Other people would be better off if I’m gone.”
It’s been said that every day we each have 80,000 thoughts—60,000 of them are negative. These are just a sample of thoughts we may deal with each day.
Unbelievably sad, right?
This week is my dad’s birthday. If he wouldn’t have died over thirty-five years ago, he would be eighty-six years young now. Today, he would have had the privilege to celebrate with his children, grandchildren and even great grandchildren.
There would have been cake, I’m certain of that. Even though he never liked anyone fussing over him, he would have appreciated the gesture. Maybe he and I would have made it together, just like the old days. He helped me made my first cake—yellow box cake with chocolate frosting. It was frosted in globs and sat lopsided on the plate, but he told me it was a work of art.
And I believed him.
I’m certain the conversation would have gotten around to hunting. My brothers and I would remind him that he took us all hunting when we were old enough. I can hear him now, saying he didn’t hunt much after we grew up and left home. He’d say it wasn’t the same.
Friday and Saturday were glorious this past week. The sun was bright, yet the air had a cool bite to it in the early hours. Lew and I celebrated our anniversary by peddling different rail trails in Pennsylvania and Maryland. Not only celebrate the day but to look back over the years of our marriage to see remember how we’d been blessed.
And blessings surrounded our lives.
Meeting on-line and living so far apart—while it seemed a challenge—had been a great blessing. We used the time to get to know each other slowly, with purpose in mind. Many times we’d tell friends, “If we wanted to take someone to dinner and a movie, we’d stay closer to home. Instead, we want to see what God has in store for us.”
Life changes after tragedy. It may be heartbreak from a personal or physical attack like mine, or it can be an attack to someone you love. Either way, heartache follows tragedy.
Our go-to move is a simple one: avoid tragedy. The concept sounds easy enough, but is grossly impractical. How can we avoid living since tragedy is ever-present? It may not lurk behind every tree, waiting to pounce, but it is there.
It isn’t new anymore.
Loss of balance is now the norm. I’ve learned to take a cloth with me so when my hand trails the walls, I won’t leave smudges. When I hand wash dishes, I make sure they’re unbreakable. When I need to remember specifics, I write them down so when I forget them—because I always do—I won’t feel guilty.