Grief

Sometimes the news comes quick. Sometimes the news comes slow. No matter how or when it comes, grief travels in the wake of the news. Grief is heavy, weighty, a burden, especially when it involves someone deeply loved. Grief is not meant to be carried alone. It’s too heavy and may last a while—and that’s ok. That’s what family and friends are for, to share the load. Jesus stood outside the tomb of his friend and wept but He did not weep alone. It was a deep, human moment. “ Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted ” (Matt 5:4). If anyone knows how we feel in grief, it’s Him. But His grief did not linger long, as at the mention of his name, Lazarus came forth. We are not meant to dwell in grief, but should leave room enough for it. Let it run its course. Like the song says, “ Every Storm Runs Out Of Rain .” Another song says, “ The storm We will dance as it breaks The storm It will give as it takes And all of our pain is washed away Don't cry or be afraid Some things...

Do Hard Things, Difficult Things.

Every day I do a hard thing. Sometimes I re-do a hard thing I've done before in order to check my progression since the last time I did the hard thing. Of course what I am describing is rooted in my physical training. I don't call it "working out" because I have difficulty attaching a goal to the task, such as finishing. If I "work out" I can stop when I feel like it. But if I train, I must complete the task, no matter what. This means the hard thing I do is more than physical. It's mental. It's even emotional--just ask some who train with me. But nothing feels better in the world laying there on the floor, completely spent--the hard thing accomplished. That's why it's called "training."

As a youngster I despised sports but loved music. In order to be the best musician I could be, I trained. I practiced. And I messed up--alot. Not sure how my parents endured the screeching, scratching junior high cellist in the other room (maybe that's why there were two or three closed doors between them and me). But I practiced. At least 30 minutes per day. Doing the same exercises over and over until I met the objective of the lesson.

Some lessons I did not learn so quickly--like writing. My handwriting was (and perhaps still is) atrocious. My father would look over my homework and would often make me re-write legibly. One trait I picked up from that exercise was editing, clarification, for as I re-wrote, I discovered I could say things better.

Many avoid doing hard things for a sundry of reasons. What they miss is the growth that comes out of it. If anything, they grow stronger in making excuses and so weaken themselves.

A hard thing might mean saying "no" to something and sticking by that decision.

I don't know what your "hard thing" is, but tackling at least one difficult thing per day strengthens the heart, the mind. It matters because there is a consequence to every decision. Not a grade or a trophy.

What you get by doing hard things is the ability to live--I mean truly live--in an unforgiving world.

What's the saying? "Those who say it can't be done are usually interrupted by others doing it".

Be that guy. Be that girl. Do it because it's difficult and see what happens. Pain only lasts for a little while.


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