In 6th grade I started "real" athletics. I had no idea what to expect, but leading up to that first day there was a handful of butterflies that started fluttering around my stomach.
My little "type A" self had my uniform ready, practiced unlocking my padlock so I wouldn't be late due to not being able to get into my athletic locker, and replayed in my mind what that one period of the day would look like.
The first day of athletics we ran to the gym, changed as quick and we could, hustled to our spot on the floor, and then were instructed to run bleachers for the remaining period. I made sure to show them what I was made of; kept pace, didn't let anyone pass me, and stayed in a steady jog the entire time.
The next day I showed up, not too sore, proud of my ability to survive. We were told to run bleachers again, for the entire hour. Okay, so again, I wasn't going to be the weak one so I made sure to set a steady but quick pace and hold it the whole hour.
The third day - same thing.
I came home after the third day and told Mom and Dad that I really didn't know what athletics was, but I didn't think I liked it. It was hard and I wasn't sure I could do that everyday. My legs hurt, bleachers were NOT fun and I didn't think I could survive this or if I even wanted to survive this.
In my little 11 year old dissertation to my parents I had prepared to cover two main points:
1) No one told me what I was signing up for
2) I did not think I would survive
My sweet Dad listened to me babble and when I came to the part where I didn't think I could do it, he responded quickly, almost cutting me off, as if no need even give it thought, "of course you can, you are an Easter." Then with added confidence and matter of fact in his voice, "You have Easter genes and Easter blood running through your veins, this is nothing for you."
And I believed him, in an instant I no longer thought I would die. My thoughts suddenly shifted, I was now probably going to be the toughest kid in athletics. Why? Because my dad said so, reminded me of all the hard things the Easter's before had conquered. I was bred to be strong, tough, and a winner. It was in my legacy. Even if I didn't feel like it, if Dad said it, then okay, it was true.
Fast forward a few years and there have been moments in my walk with Jesus that parallel 6th grade athletics. I come prepared for a season of life; scheduled, rehearsed the possible outcomes in my mind, only for things to take a very uncomfortable turn that I did not see, expect, or prepare. I find myself coming to the alter with a dissertation very similar to the one I had prepared for my parents.
1) No one fully described this part of the plan
2) Even if I wanted to do this, I cannot survive.
And the response from my Jesus is similar to Dad. Without hesitation or thought, "of course you can because you are mine." "You have the Holy Spirit alive and dwelling inside of you." What more could a girl need. I know He goes before me, but in the low of the valley my feelings and what I KNOW to be true start to play tug-of-war.
Even more so than Dad, I can trust Jesus. If he says it, even if I don't feel like it - it is true.
As a kid it was easier to trust, but I am so thankful that I could give myself that pep talk.
As an adult there have been seasons when life were next level hard. I would sit in my prayer time with tears rolling down my cheeks and teeth gritted, because I was determined to believe that even if I didn't understand what exactly what was going on or what good could be on the other side. I could survive this and even more....there is something good that is coming out of this. It may hurt. My heart and legs may feel heavy, but God is oh so near. I can do this because my name is written IN THE PALM of His hand, the Holy Spirit lives inside of me and I have full access to the King of the Universe. I can do this because He has gone before me and He who began a good work is FAITHFUL to complete it because that is who he is: FAITHFUL.