Sometimes I walk, sometimes I run, but most of the
time I stumble (E.B., 1981-2012)
Truth be told, I think this
is true for most people; it certainly is for me. I’ve spent my share of time in
a hurry, whether from anticipation or dread:
running after dreams, running after babies, running after love, running
to make deadlines, running away from pain, running up bills. The energy and
certainty of youth, knowing what I wanted and constantly working towards it
with occasional, blind leaps of faith into the unknown, were what carried me
through. However, although these times are memorable, they are perhaps more so
because of the slower moments in between; those times when I walked through
life.
Life just isn’t always about
excitement. Sometimes it is predictable and plodding, which can be both boring
and comforting. Taking care of family, working, buckling seatbelts, taking out
the garbage, paying bills, going to the dentist, or walking on the treadmill
are less stimulating, but very necessary parts of life. Slowing down and giving
myself a break, or giving someone else a break, or taking time to think things
through before plunging any further allows the chance to reflect and to plan,
to forgive and to heal, to remember and to cherish; to reflect on the everyday
things I am doing by rote and taking for granted. This is my opportunity to
soak up experiences more deeply and let them change me for the better, to open
the door to the future by dreaming a dream of what might be next.
And then, I stumble. I sail
along thinking how easy it all is and how well I have life figured out and then
I plunge headlong into those difficult moments when life is hard and confusing.
That’s when I falter. I want to help, I want to hide, I want answers. Life
becomes too big and I feel too small; I don’t know what to do or how to do it,
yet walking away isn’t the right option either. Or is it? Self-doubt takes over.
Sometimes it is as simple as needing direction or reassurance, but,
never-the-less, my uncertainty makes me stumble, unsure of my footing,
wondering if I can make it or do it right, wondering if everyone sees my
incompetence. It hurts to fall, especially when it bruises others as well, and
getting back up can be overwhelming when I feel alone. Yet, some of the very
best things I’ve ever done, I did falteringly and with help; building lasting relationships
with friends and family, moving to new places, taking new jobs, setting
reasonable boundaries, raising kids, caring for parents, going back to school.
No directions came with any of it, whether it was figuring out fair but
effective discipline for children who were smarter than us or keeping a parent
with dementia from slamming the dining room chair backwards into her china
cupboard during dinner. And I wouldn’t change a moment of it!
Life certainly has its ups and
downs, but we mustn’t be afraid of struggle. Stumbling isn’t a sign of weakness
or incompetence but a sign of courage and fortitude, as is reaching out for
help and accepting a hand in those moments. I wish everyone could know that and
be certain of it in their hearts, especially when
they are in the middle of doubt. Sometimes
I walk, sometimes I run, but most of the time I stumble. And that’s okay.
Go ahead and dare to try.
