After thoroughly embracing that courage is hard to describe, seems to be subjective, and is a force unto its own, I’m confident in this one thing, this one thing alone, a waiting heart conceives courage.
This is timely for me as a long season of waiting will finally reach its gestation by the time this post is shared. I’ll be adding WAITING to our list of attributes as a result. If courage is the virtue that supports all other virtues, then WAITING is the attribute that supports all the other attributes.
I’ll be sharing some scripture with you, personal reflections, and resources to examine your waiting, but until then I leave you with the lyrics to a song, an anthem of sorts, that have carried me through my current season of waiting. I hope they bless you.
I’m with you friend, cultivating courage, holding onto hope.
You know that ‘thing’ that happens. When you get pregnant and suddenly you can see every pregnant woman in your line of sight; as if all other humans have faded into the background of errand running and to do lists. Or when you’re car shopping and you slowly find yourself teetering between the vision of yourself driving that prize every time one passes you; while wondering why it now appears that you see that same set of wheels at every other stop light. You know that ‘thing.’ When what you’re paying attention to seems to pop up around every corner.
Well, I collided with that ‘thing’ when I shattered my wrist. That is, when it came to advice. Believe it or not, in the several weeks following my surgery I met at least a dozen other women who had suffered a similar injury.
Label it what you please, coincidence or divine intervention, but these messengers where all packing the same advice. “Don’t quit the rehab.”
Rehab has a lifecycle of its own. Mine began with a first session that was so painful, after having completed my exercises, I had to promptly alert the therapist that I needed something cold and to sit, as I was on the verge of fainting. This was much to her surprise as I had steadily endured all of her cues without so much as a flinch. After tending to me she gave me a firm rebuke and chastised my ability to mentally block out the pain my body was experiencing. I know, I need counseling. A day did come, before I was released, where I had healed enough and had pressed through the pain with feeling. This was the day when my natural inclination would have been to throw in the towel early on PT, sign my own discharge paperwork, and rush back into my old life; had it not been for all those messengers repeating; “Don’t quit the rehab.”
It takes courage to see it through to the end.
I don’t think any of us starts something and declares “I will do this right up to the point that I’m almost successful and then I will quit.” I don’t think any of those women who earnestly advised me planned on quitting rehab before they were given a clean bill of health. Yet, ALL of them did, they ALL quit.
It was as if they had returned from the vast abyss of regret to warn me, “don’t quit.” They were ALL left short of complete healing. Limited mobility, chronic pain, and physical disfigurement reminded them daily. I’m thankful that against all odds, measured by my previous behavior, I chose to heed their advice. Today I have full mobility, no pain, and no disfigurement other that the scar that reminds me of what could have been. All because I didn’t quit.
Friend, I can’t guarantee if you finish that the outcome will be 100% successful, I can however guarantee that if you quit it there is 100% chance that it won’t. Whatever your “it” is right now, see it through to the end. Don’t quit.