Tag Archives: choice

Going The Distance

9 Mar

Do you know what going the distance truly means?  It means, making it through (what ever “through” happens to be) when the adrenaline spike is no longer assisting your stamina.  It means, remaining joyful when the dopamine and serotonin levels in the brain have dropped as a result of the biological crisis mode switching to off.  It means, not just finishing the race (life), but living in such a way that you know finishing is happening.  Which in essence is, the ability to make it through the “normals”.

Was that too abstract a thought for anyone to follow?  I apologize if the answer to my question is “yes”.  But for me, tonight, I feel the pains of “going the distance.”  And tonight, “the pain”  happens to be, the practice of flushing out the thoughts of doubt that are trying to creep into my head.  That are trying to cause me to give up, that are lying to me by way of manipulative, passive aggressive tactic.  The reason I feel pain is that my emergency strength, otherwise known as adrenaline, has called it quits for the day.  So I am left to my own “normal” ability to recall lessons learned, and left to my own “normal” desire to remain fixated on past encouragements rooted in truth.  I am also having to–key phrase here–put into practice what I know to be true and right…even when I want to walk away and bury my head in the sand.  All of which take a level of commitment I’m sometimes unsure I naturally posses.  You see, “going the distance” has somewhat of an athletic team-like connotation.  I was a dancer, not a sportsman(woman).  I understand hard workouts and focused practices, but not distance.  Our routines were, at most, 10 minute increments–maybe fifteen.  I played singles tennis…never doubles.  It was fast paced achievement or hard earned defeat, never distance.  Thus I can assure you, I feel pain when pushing forward, pressing on toward the goal, and keeping my eye fixed on the prize.

So tonight, I am going the distance.  And where ever you are, and whatever your “through” happens to be, I hope you will, along with my tired self, go the distance too.

…thank you for listening (or reading really).

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This One’s for SuperEve

20 Oct

The promised story…

When Cole was a baby, Brian and I took him on a road trip to the Grand Canyon.  Brian had purchased a 1963 Ford Galaxy 500 (a purchase that bothered me from the onset), and that is the vehicle we used to take us on our adventure.  Brian had the good idea of traveling along old Route 66 for as much of the drive as possible.  And after I mapped it out with triple A (AAA), I knew our road trip was going to be a load of fun.  Along the way I had planned for us to visit the Grand Canyon Caverns, Lake Havasu and the London bridge, and a few old towns in-between.  The more I researched our route, the more excited about our trip I became.

The day finally came for our long anticipated vacation, and being that the Galaxy could only accommodate Cole’s car seat in the front seat, I sat in the back.  At the time that didn’t bother me so much, however writing it down now makes me quite ticked off…ok, just kidding!  Anyway, cutting right to the ‘heart o my story’…

We arrived at the Grand Canyon and though it was majestic and sunny and perfect, the Galaxy was not.  I can’t quite remember what went awry between Brian and his beloved muscle car, but something most definitely did.  Brian became irritated by something malfunctioning in the car and felt it required immediate attention.  Now you need to understand that I have married a most passionate man (if you didn’t know that already).  For the most part, I love his passion; it is constant and never ceasing, and in my opinion, beautiful.  However, in that moment, at the Grand Canyon–our anticipated destination–his passion for that Ford 500 was a violation to my soul.  A trespassing upon my idea for our family vacation.  Yet Brian decided we needed to leave the “world wonder” immediately, so we could get to our hotel with plenty of sunlight to spare.  In truth, he took on a sour attitude and had I pitched a fit to stay (my passion is no match for his, or wasn’t at the time), it would not have changed his mind.  So back in the car we went and out of the National Park his Galaxy took us.

Sitting in the back of the car I distinctly remember looking out the back window, teary eyed, reading and re-reading the sign, “Welcome to the Grand Canyon.”  In that moment I was excruciatingly hurt.  I was disappointed and miserable.  Then, as the sign became illegible, I was mad.  Mad at Brian, my “beloved” (thought with sarcasm).  And that is when the Lord spoke to my heart, mind, and soul.  He offered me a choice…

I could remain miserable, angry, and sad.  I could hold this transgression against Brian, justifiably.  I could continue to hurt and even make Brian pay by treating him poorly the rest of the trip and making sure he knew he “blew it”.

OR,

I could choose to forgive him.  I could choose to take on a good attitude even when I deserved the bad.  I could focus on our moments together (in that awful car), and make sure that our vacation was not a waste.  I could, in essence, put my relationship before my disappointment in that one moment.  I could choose to be happy.

Well it took me a little while of sitting silent in the back seat, but I did (key phrase here) “put the concept into action”.  I applied the second of the two choices.  It really did (and does) make a difference.  Though the Canyon was not mine that year, we did go back when Esther was 4 and Cole was almost 9.  Another road trip, different car–a rental I believe (I can choose to have a good attitude but that doesn’t make me stupid!).  And the rest of my time with Brian and Cole on that first trip was spent learning how to really enjoy life, even when it is somewhat disappointing.

It is not a new life lesson, it was just my first induction into it as an adult.

“The only thing you can control in this life is your attitude”; though even that can benefit from a jump start from time to time!

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Chewing by Choise

18 Oct

I enjoyed the good news of my last post so much that I wanted to let it sit a while before writing a new post.  I am currently chewing on the idea of ‘choice’.  I would like to think that I choose a good attitude in life.  But then I wonder, doesn’t everyone?  I mean, why choose to be hurt?  The very written implication of that last question makes it sound like a ridiculous notion…”choosing to be hurt”.  Of course one doesn’t “choose” to be hurt; one “gets” hurt.  The very word “gets” suggests hurt is imposed, not chosen.  We don’t run to our mother and say, “Johnny hit me and I choose to hurt!”  Of course not.  We say, “Johnny hurt me!”  So the idea that ‘hurt’ is thrust upon us is given to us early in our culture through our use of the English language.  Now that is the obvious, and the obvious is usually NOT what compels me.  Of course not, my nature forbids it (not true for I can override my nature should I choose).

Aaaaahhhh…it is the last statement, made in parenthesis, that furthers this discussion!  Now catch this with me if you can, hopefully I can make it come across in a comprehensible manner.  Consider that Johnny hit you.  In that moment, it was he who inflicted that which hurt.  However, consider that you tell the story of Johnny and his attack upon you several times.  Of course you run and tell your mother instantly (or whoever is available to console you in that moment), and sure enough, by the end of the day the incident becomes a ‘has been’.  But if you wake the next morning and retell the tale at breakfast, then again at lunch, then again at dinner, then again and again and again, does that mean that Johnny’s blow is continuous, therefore making his hurting you continuous also?

My opinion…No.

In my view individuals allow hurtful incidents to “hurt” them longer than should be allowed.  I’m really not excluded in this, though I write as though that is the case.  My being aware of it does help me to not live in constant pain, physical or emotional.  Again to state the obvious, humans hold onto emotional hurt long, long after the pain of the physical has subsided.  And in my deduction, it is the re-telling of the incident that keeps the emotional pain in its thriving state.  Then the “state of the pain”, for some people, becomes a part of their identity.  There is a trap that comes along with this practice.  The trap is, that as the pain is the identity of a person, that person begins to expect the pain.  For example (mind you I am being benign here so as none of you can read my writing and consider I am drawing from your personality), being the last person chosen for teams in grade school is hurtful.  As an adolescent the fear of the pain reminds one to either  ‘no-show’ on the team choosing day in P.E., or cop an excuse for why you should be chosen last.  Thus the original experience from grade school is being allowed to direct the actions in adolescence.  As an adult, those insecurities are in full bloom and thoughts of “no one ever calls me” or “I’m always the last resort with friends, family, co-workers, etc.” are allowed to flourish in the mature mind.

I bring this up because, bottom line, I want to.  That is the stripped down truth.  But the truth with clothes on is that I bring it up because I interact with people, whether strangers or not, who are bogged down by painful occurrences from their past.  Maybe not on a daily basis but consistent enough to be recognized.  It seems to me they are being robbed of the joy of today, and the potentiality that circumstances have changed, that they have become someone who is chosen first!

I remember exactly when and where the good Lord spoke to my heart and mind about this very thing.  Where he illuminated within me the idea of choice.  I will share it in my next post, for right now I would rather hear your opinion on “Chewing by Choise”; joyfully misspelled on purpose—take that ‘Auto Correct’!

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