When Life is Too Hard

I’m becoming more aware of my thoughts again, now that I’m writing about them.

I’m not just coasting along anymore.  I’m noticing things.

Specifically, I’ve noticed that I say one certain phrase to myself, over and over and over again:

It’s too hard.

Somehow, I’ve incorporated that hopeless little thought into everything.  It’s a good reason not to try, I guess.  To explain why I’m so tired.  Why I should just give up, and why that’s okay.

It’s too hard.

But, darn it, when I look at it in writing, it looks stupid.  A tiny, little, lame excuse for not trying to live my life to the fullest.

It’s too hard.

Who cares?  Why do I care that it’s too hard?  Why don’t I just do it anyway?  Why don’t I do it because it’s hard?

Why don’t I tell myself, If it’s too hard, then it must be important.

Why don’t I start to say, If it’s too hard, then God will have to do it through me.  I get to see Him be strong in my weakness.  

Why don’t I acknowledge that life will always be hard?  If I can really let that sink in, and accept it, then I can move through it.  I can decide to live in the difficulty of life.

The messiness.  The annoying arguments of my children.  The recurrent conspiracy of the dirty dishes and the pile of laundry.  The husband who is less than perfect, just like me.  The time that gets away from me because I spend too much time feeling sorry for myself that I can’t just do what I want to all the time.  The constant battle of my mind of worthiness versus despair.

Life is hard, darn it.  And I don’t think I’m alone in this.  Everyone must have stuff that’s too hard for them, some of it big, some of it small and insidious.  But all difficult.

God didn’t give me my temperament and then leave me to drown in it.  It is what it is, and I believe there’s purpose in it.

So, do you hear me, stupid “too hard?”  I’m giving you your notice.  I’m spending one more day fighting against you.

And with God’s grace, I’ll remember to say no to you tomorrow, too.


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