Become willing

There’s nothing against you to fall down flat
But to lie there—that’s disgrace.
— Edmund Vance Cooke 

Sometimes the problem isn’t that we don’t believe we can. The problem is that we don’t want to do it, whatever the current task or challenge is.

When I began my writing and recovery, I wanted to do these things. The challenge was invigorating. I wanted to get back up. I wanted to push ahead. I wanted to get into the game.

When my son Shane died, I didn’t want to get up.

I didn’t want the challenge. It wasn’t invigorating. I didn’t want the loss, and I didn’t want to heal from my grief.

One day in those painful, awful early years of grief, a friend stopped by the house. I had known him for a long time. He had suffered a permanent loss, too—the use of his leg muscles from a form of polio he had suffered during his teenage years.

People hadn’t known what to do with me back then. They had watched me flounder in my grief. They had tried to be compassionate, and that was good. But right now compassion wasn’t exactly what I needed to hear.

“You’ve got to get up,” my friend said in a loud voice. “You’ve got to get back up on your feet again. Stand up to life.”

Sometimes life’s problems and challenges are invigorating. Sometimes they’re not. But no matter what we get hit with, we need to get up again.

Let yourself grieve. Let yourself become enraged over your losses, if you must. Then, whether you want the loss or not, get back up again. You don’t have to want to; you don’t even have to believe you can. Sometimes all we need to do is be open to wanting to and then believe we can.

God, help me believe in life.

From the book: More Language of Letting Go

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