My friend is enduring something hard and I wish I could carry her burden for her. I know the logic behind trials; including that they make you stronger and a greater person, but I never like to see anyone suffer.
Endurance is more easily said than done
It's one thing to say, "I'm going to run a marathon" but quite another thing to actually run 26 miles and not quit. The only thing other people can do is help you (cheer you on, give you a drink) but you're the one who runs the race-it's just you, the pavement, and your goal.
While a runner runs a race they have a lot of time to think. Is it helpful to think things like this? "I'm tired, I'm gonna quit. I might as well stop, I'm in last place. I failed." or like this? "I'm tired, but I'll keep going. I can do it. I WILL do it and I don't care if I'm the last person to cross that finish line, at least I'll cross it."
Pep-talks are helpful
I see how giving myself a pep-talk gives me the motivation to reach my goal. I remember years ago I took a walk to get some exercise and the walk was hard. I was sweating, my heart was beating, and I still had half a mile to go. I felt like quitting-slowing down and walking leisurely, but at that moment I started talking to God in my head. I said I was tired, but I had the impression to finish. I rounded a corner and a wind cooled me off. It was the motivation I needed to keep going. 'Thank you, Lord' I thought, then I thought 'I can do it, I can make it and I WILL'. I made it and I truly believe that God blessed me after I did all I could do.
Kind Words are Good
It's tough to face disappointing things and it's easy to get discouraged. At the discouraging times are when I need a pep-talk whether from myself or from another person. An experience I had relates to this so well.
I had had MS for two years and I felt really down. I seemed to experience something frustrating every day (what I used to do but now couldn't). I talked to my Dad on the phone and somehow the fact that he'd been disabled for 17 years with something else comforted me. I asked him if there was a time before he was positive that he ever said, "This sucks." He said he didn't remember and that being positive was the only way he knew how to be. He told me that my strength inspired him, and it shocked me because he was strong for 17 years and I had been sick for only two years. We talked some more and during the course of our conversation he told me other things. I needed to hear the things he said that day and believe his words were a tender mercy.
Everyone Needs to Hear Inspiration
Some things are hard-believe me, I know! But the most important thing I believe with all my heart is to endure. To never quit. To think 'just take one more step' and to do all that's possible. I also believe that sometimes I need a pep-talk. I need to hear encouraging words that will spur me on not vile words that will make me stop. I love this poem, it encourages me:
The Race
Whenever I start to hang my head in front of failure’s face,
my downward fall is broken by the memory of a race.
A children’s race, young boys, young men; how I remember well,
excitement sure, but also fear, it wasn’t hard to tell.
They all lined up so full of hope, each thought to win that race
or tie for first, or if not that, at least take second place.
Their parents watched from off the side, each cheering for their son,
and each boy hoped to show his folks that he would be the one.
The whistle blew and off they flew, like chariots of fire,
to win, to be the hero there, was each young boy’s desire.
One boy in particular, whose dad was in the crowd,
was running in the lead and thought “My dad will be so proud.”
But as he speeded down the field and crossed a shallow dip,
the little boy who thought he’d win, lost his step and slipped.
Trying hard to catch himself, his arms flew everyplace,
and midst the laughter of the crowd he fell flat on his face.
As he fell, his hope fell too; he couldn’t win it now.
Humiliated, he just wished to disappear somehow.
But as he fell his dad stood up and showed his anxious face,
which to the boy so clearly said, “Get up and win that race!”
He quickly rose, no damage done, behind a bit that’s all,
and ran with all his mind and might to make up for his fall.
So anxious to restore himself, to catch up and to win,
his mind went faster than his legs. He slipped and fell again.
He wished that he had quit before with only one disgrace.
“I’m hopeless as a runner now, I shouldn’t try to race.”
But through the laughing crowd he searched and found his father’s face
with a steady look that said again, “Get up and win that race!”
So he jumped up to try again, ten yards behind the last.
“If I’m to gain those yards,” he thought, “I’ve got to run real fast!”
Exceeding everything he had, he regained eight, then ten...
but trying hard to catch the lead, he slipped and fell again.
Defeat! He lay there silently. A tear dropped from his eye.
“There’s no sense running anymore! Three strikes I’m out! Why try?
I’ve lost, so what’s the use?” he thought. “I’ll live with my disgrace.”
But then he thought about his dad, who soon he’d have to face.
“Get up,” an echo sounded low, “you haven’t lost at all,
for all you have to do to win is rise each time you fall."
Get up!” the echo urged him on, “Get up and take your place!
You were not meant for failure here! Get up and win that race!”
So, up he rose to run once more, refusing to forfeit,
and he resolved that win or lose, at least he wouldn’t quit.
So far behind the others now, the most he’d ever been,
still he gave it all he had and ran like he could win.
Three times he’d fallen stumbling, three times he rose again.
Too far behind to hope to win, he still ran to the end.
They cheered another boy who crossed the line and won first place,
head high and proud and happy -- no falling, no disgrace.
But, when the fallen youngster crossed the line, in last place,
the crowd gave him a greater cheer for finishing the race.
And even though he came in last with head bowed low, unproud,
you would have thought he’d won the race, to listen to the crowd.
And to his dad he sadly said, “I didn’t do so well.”
“To me, you won,” his father said. “You rose each time you fell.”
And now when things seem dark and bleak and difficult to face,
the memory of that little boy helps me in my own race.
For all of life is like that race, with ups and downs and all.
And all you have to do to win is rise each time you fall.
And when depression and despair shout loudly in my face,
another voice within me says, “Get up and win that race!”
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