Yesterday my youngest son, my husband and I unloaded a large rented box truck packed front to back with boxes, furniture and other random things.
We brought it all into the house or stashed it for safekeeping and future sorting in our storage building.
It was-literally-uphill both ways.
A long, long ramp (which I really hated!) up into the truck and steps and stairs into the house or building. Exhausted is too small a word for how I fell into bed last night.
But we did what we set out to do.
We didn’t quit, we didn’t give up, we didn’t stop until we emptied that truck and safely deposited its contents where they would be sheltered from the rain that started falling sometime early this morning.
It made me think: How often do I stop just short of pushing through something (physical, mental, spiritual or emotional) because it’s hard?
How many times have I looked at the work it would require to dig in, dig deep and finally face a fear or a failing or even a future that looks very different than the one I’d have chosen for myself when all I see is a steep uphill climb?
If I felt the same urgency about those things as I did with a rented truck and impending bad weather I might be more inclined to press on. But usually I console myself with the mantra, “I’ll worry about that tomorrow”.
Trouble is, tomorrow turns into tomorrow into tomorrow until there’s a whole string of days gone by and not one whit of progress toward my goal.
The hills will still be there.
Time won’t change the difficulty of the climb.
Beginning and continuing and refusing to stop is the only way.
This morning I feel beat up, worn down and probably won’t get much done. But I have the satisfaction of knowing yesterday was a victory.
And victories add up over time.
Even small ones. ❤