There's a lot to be said for the struggle. I can't say that I love to hurt or wait or fight through difficult things. It's hard for me to sign up for anything that makes me miserable. God sends enough of these lessons without me having to look for them, most of the time. That old adage: "Anything worth doing is worth doing well" makes me stop and ponder the times of struggle in my life. And then I remember the chickens...
I loved the 4-H club when I was a youngster. There were all the agricultural things you could do -- I was in the Poultry Chain. They would give you 25 baby chicks for free and then I'd have to raise and care for them. In the fall, the best of them would be shown at the county fair. I have ADOS -- Attention Deficit Ohhhh Shiny, so I am grateful that I had a good Mama who stayed after me to feed those babies. I have a sneaking suspicion that she might have fed them more than a few times, when I got distracted and such. Since becoming an adult, I can't abide the idea of anything going hungry, be it a chicken, dog or human. I have asked God to forgive me for ever slacking off in my storied past. When my chickens grew up, they'd start laying eggs and I'd let some of the hens set on them so we could get more chicks. After the requisite three weeks or so, I would anxiously watch for signs of the babies hatching. The first time I saw one hatch, I saw the little peep-hole in the egg, with the beak of the chick poking out. After what seemed an age, the egg would begin to crack and the soggy baby would roll out, exhausted and frail. Sometimes it seemed that something was wrong...the chick would get only part of the way out and then lay there panting. I would debate with myself, then decide to help the little fella out. I would pick at the shell until I released the prisoner from his bonds. I did this a few times, finding it strange that every time, the chick would die. I decided to quit trying to help them and found that they never died when I left them alone. Later, I found out that it's a scientific fact that chicks need the trial of getting out of the shell in order to live. It helps their circulatory system get moving and other things that I don't understand. Much like a baby human, when they wrestle their way into the world...the struggle is what clears the lungs, wakes up the brain, gets the heart moving.
Our parents taught us the importance of working hard. Then the baton was passed along the way to teachers, coaches, mentors that were put in my path. In high school, I fell in love with the game of basketball. I was a clumsy, rangy-built kid with some height and a will to play, but I had to work at it in order to get better. I was not the natural athlete that my sister was. Daddy put up a goal on our driveway and I began working at learning to shoot the ball. My high school coach was like a drill sergeant. He pushed, ran, yelled, pushed some more and I loved him for it. Most days, even after practice, I would shoot and rebound and shoot some more at home. I ate, drank and slept basketball. I loved it so much, I'd lay in bed at night watching the night sky out my window, asking God if I was making basketball into an idol.
Meanwhile, academics came easy to me, and I rarely studied. I'd do my homework on the bus and write term papers the night before they were due and still make A's. But basketball came hard to me, so I struggled. Studies, I breezed through. On the converse, my sister, Melanie, rarely practiced her basketball skills. It came to her like a duck to water. Our coach handed her three basketballs and she would juggle them during our pre-game warmups. School, on the other hand, was more of a challenge. She studied diligently, her notes fanned out in front of her. Term papers were done well in advance, neatly organized in categories. She worked at her studies, while athletics were no challenge for her to master.
Time for college came and I was recruited by numerous schools to play. After much time and drama, I settled on a small school in Tennessee. I loved the setting and the philosophy of it. But what had I worked at, versus what I had breezed through, hit me up like a tsunami. Sure, the gals at the college level knew when to pass the ball, when to make it all sing. But this Georgia gal didn't know how to study, and most freshman kids away at college are basically idiots anyway. If I thought there were distractions before, I found all the sparkles once Daddy and Mama dropped me at the dorm doors. Melanie went to college and did fine; she knew how to study.
Thankfully, time marches on and we grow up, well, maybe. It's the struggles of life where we learn the most. All the things where I have had to work, where I've had to force myself into difficult places...these are the things that I appreciate most and that seem to bring the most worth. My favorite teachers and coaches were the tough ones, who pressed me past my comfort zones. Even when we were homeschooling our kids all those years, I'd read books about calming down and being "the relaxed homeschooler." I never needed that advice. I needed "the tighten up and get your fanny in gear homeschooler."
These days, with my empty nest and a world of opportunities in front of me, I still see that I have to push past my weaknesses and lack of discipline. The struggle is real but the rewards are many. So....who's up for coffee this morning?
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