I Don't Want To Do This

 

"I don't want to do this."

I give myself permission to whisper those words into the painful world I find myself living in sometimes. I look at the hard things I have to tackle all by myself and I allow myself the moment to grieve. I didn't want this hard life...I didn't want these hard things...I didn't...

But sometimes we simply have to. Life throws everything at us and even if we don't want to, we have to.

So, I allow myself the moment to accept that this was never how life was supposed to be, a moment to accept that this is hard and this hurts.

And then I do it...whatever the hard thing is...I do it. Because, usually, I don't have a choice.

I have had a lot of people ask me why I push myself? Why not ask for help? There are so many people who would willingly step in to help a widow. "The Bible calls us to help the widows and the orphans" they remind me...

There was once a time when I was incredibly cared for. There was once a man who held an incredible amount of knowledge about an incredible amount of subjects...and he took care of everything. When things broke he fixed them. When a solution was needed he created one. When my heart broke he held it. 

When he left me as a widow I was left without any of the knowledge I had so willingly accepted as part of my life. And I found myself sitting in front of problems and wondering how I could have let myself get this far out of touch with the fixing of life...

He used to be so proud of me. I remember shoveling the snow out of his parking spot and how that action filled his heart. I would make him his favorite dinner and he eyes would light up. I remember how he used to just smile because he saw me...he saw me...and he was proud of me. And it always felt like enough.

Everything was enough until he was gone...and then nothing about me felt enough.

And so I sat in front of the broken things and I wondered who I wanted to be. 

"I don't want to do this" I said to the broken car...to the broken window...to the broken person I saw in the mirror looking back at me.

But there is another side of that phrase...

I whisper it in the darkest of moments. When I want to avoid all the pain and all the fear and all the responsibility. My instinct is to protect myself from deep grief and suffering and I want to give in to that. I want to throw caution to the wind and protect myself from all the scary monsters that roam the world.

"I don't want to do this." I don't want to take the easy way out.

I say it to myself as my heart is poised to run away and I just cannot seem to handle how very incredibly hard life is in that moment. 

I don't want to run away. I don't want to live my life scared of all the sorrows and grief that somehow seems to find me in the midst of the happy life I am supposed to be living. I want to be brave and courageous....I want to be able to do the hard things.

So, I try to fix the broken car...or clean out the broken window...or wipe the tears off my face. I jump into things without a good plan or enough research, determined that pure grit and courage will win the day in the end.

It doesn't always work, my friends. Sometimes it's a complete disaster. I have two somewhat broken doorhandles that are determined to mock me from my latest attempt to be a strong, independent woman.

I reminded myself "I don't want to do this" and I faced it head on. Sure, sometimes I just limp away from the situation but sometimes I feel like a champion. 

I'm far from perfect and, sure, sometimes the pendulum swings a little too far into the avenue of independence. "I'm afraid about needing or relying on someone and being left all alone again..." I told my counselor this week. I can no longer afford to be taken care of...I must take of things myself. While that isn't completely true...it is partially true.

I must figure out what I am capable of...

I must model courage to the young woman I'm raising amidst all the brokenness...

I must believe that hard things are not always impossible things...even though some are.

He would have been so very proud of all the things I forced myself to do since he died.

His eyes would have lit up if he'd seen the way I troubleshoot the hard things.

His heart would have been so full knowing that I didn't give up on any of it.

I'm not always some stubborn widow who's determined to not need anyone's help...(although sometimes I am...sorry).

Mostly I'm just a broken woman who decided "I don't want to do this" when the world gave me permission to give up.

"Just a little..."

"Just for now..."

"Just this once..."

Maybe taking care of the widows and orphans doesn't always mean protecting them from the world...from the pain...from all the struggles.

Maybe it means being proud of them when they do the hard thing.

Maybe it means letting your eyes light up when they experience a win.

Maybe it means telling them that their courage filled your heart.

"You're doing a good job. I'm proud of you."

One thing I have always known...in the courage and in the defeat...is that I am still as much in need of a savior as I ever was. 

In need of the very savior who bowed his head in the garden and must have felt those thoughts of escape and fear seize him...but he chose to say "I don't want to do this..." and then he walked that path to death...death on the cross.

And everything is different because he has done so.

So maybe...maybe its a good idea to push ourselves further than we think we are capable of...