I can do hard things

 There is a mantra familiar to those who move in the circles of mental health.  It goes like this.....

I can do hard things.  

You say it over and over again and if you've had some therapy maybe you cross your arms over your chest and pat yourself rhythmically while you say, "I can do hard things".

I find myself reciting it tonight....not because I am facing a giant of adversity, or a scary prospect....mostly just because I had a busy night caring for my family and it involved driving at night.  I don't like to drive at night.  Other people don't dim their bright lights anymore....and it is stressful....I have a rather short night and then have to get up early tomorrow and get kids up early and then go and give a presentation to some college kids first thing in the morning.  I need to act like I know what I am doing (which I do) and present well....but they are coming to "class" and I am not a teacher.  I am a nurse.  I can do hard things.  

My daughter Claire has taken a job as a victims advocate for sexual assault.  She is a social worker and this job is not easy.  She can do hard things.  She can't share details with me when she gets a call, just like I can't share about some of the harder things I am a part of in my days.  I have learned to call this the Sacred Space.  I don't know if its already a thing or not...if so I apologize.  If not, then its my phrase to coin.  Lets not google it and check, ok?  For tonight, I want to consider the sacred space of suffering.

Claire is learning, as I have, how to sit in the sacred space of suffering.  It is a special space that is not sweet or warm or fun.  It is something else all together.  It is a Holy and wordless place because the pain is deep and lowly but does not have to be lonely....Jesus is there....so we also can be.....and then it is sacred.  

I have been in the sacred spaces often.  To sit with someone in pain and distress, to do the hard work of showing up when it would be so much easier not to is no joke.  Suffering is not appealing.  If anything it is repelling.  We run from it as humans....and avoid it at all cost.  Yet and still....suffering is a part of life for now.  So some of us choose to say, "I can do hard things." 

I have attended the birth of a stillborn child.  I have held the hand of a dying man.  I have talked on the phone to the one who was on the edge of the cliff, in the pregnant pause, and asking me not to talk them out of the jumping.  I talked them out of jumping anyway.  I have prevented abortions, and facilitated matches for adoptions, I have held the weeping mother who had to give away the right to parent her child....I am not afraid of the sacred space or the suffering.  I can do hard things.  Jesus did hard things...for me.  

So this is a heavy yet not heavy set of words tonight because I can do hard things...like brave the dark and sometimes icy roads to get where we need to go, and feed the kids and take care of the dogs and change the laundry and do the visits and wake up on time to get the kid to 7am play practice....and drive in the dark and maybe icy road travel to go and talk to the class of college kids about what I do and why it matters...so that maybe someone in this class will decide that they, too, can do hard things.

Also.....

I reward myself when I do hard things.  I reward myself as often as I can, actually.  I deserve it.  Once I finish presenting to both sections of this child development class tomorrow morning, I plan to come home, and light the fire in my wood-burning stove.  I plan to watch some World Cup soccer if there are games on, and snuggle under a blanket and do some charting/working from home until the kids get home from school.  We will talk about our day, have a snack and move on into all the crazy stuff that comes next....play practice for the Christmas program, basketball practice for the 4th grade boys, dinner and likely more laundry.....Roger is away for work this week so I'm single momming....but its ok.  I can do hard things.  My self-care tool box is full and ready.