All the Perseverance It Takes to Get Started
This morning I moved Ed’s racetrack out from in front of the kitchen table, sliding it over to another corner of the kitchen.
There were a few straggler dishes from last night’s meal I piled onto the counter above the dishwasher.
I wiped the table down and set up my runner and flowers in the middle.
It’s dreary outside and the last few days I’ve been hard on myself.
It would be easier to just go play a game with Ed and let this defeated feeling sit heavy in my stomach where it has set up camp.
But I’ve played out the “What if I give up” scenario in my head, and it’s not any prettier. It’s me pretending like I can go without writing and speaking and basically I end up being followed around by the words. They pull on my pant legs, whisper in my ear, and hang on my shoulders… like a toddler.
And I know how whiny and relentless toddlers can be.
They don’t give up.
So I clean off the table and set up my computer in front of the sunlight. There’s a little despite the rain. I can see the green grass peeking through, much clearer after the shower. The flower bed out the east window is clearly showing signs of growth after the rain too. It’s as if the water washed away all the dead cover-up to reveal the life underneath.
And maybe part of it is that after the long winter and the rain, I’m looking for it more. My eyes are drawn to it, because we’ve gone without for so long now.
The green is bright and full of life, even though it isn’t very tall yet. Even though it isn’t filling up the beds or producing flowers, it exudes power and perseverance and strength.
It is the definition of hope and what-might-be.
Maybe this week’s rain shower is over and I can more clearly see the possibilities in front of me. Maybe the defeated feeling leaves me more determined than before.
Maybe it doesn’t matter where at we are on this journey. That it takes forever to get started. Maybe the beginning is the most powerful place to be.