Sometimes we feel pressure to look stronger than we really are. This happens daily in the realm of motherhood, when questioning eyes ask things too deep to answer. When accomplishing anything means getting out of bed first, this requires strength we often don’t feel. We are frail, we are fearfully and wonderfully made.
On Saturday Matthew ran a Tough Mudder with his friend, Jon. I watched as thousands of people willingly got doused in cold water, slodged through mud, and even ran through live wires. It was an exciting day, full of energy and dirt. Even though I was surrounded by myriads of people, a lonely feeling lurked around me all day long. A stranger among throngs of friends. Forged in the fire of human passion, choking on the fumes of selfish rage.
Aside from seeing them once on the course, I totally missed them at every other obstacle. My timing was off and so I spent the day taking pictures of strangers covered in mud. My favorite part of the run was the second to last obstacle: a half pipe with people lined up at the top. Muddy hands, eager to help, able to lift another muddy body onto the mountain. The mud was everywhere. It somehow unified everyone. With these our hells and our heavens, so few inches apart, we must be awfully small and not as strong as we think we are.
This year has not been easy. I feel the weight and pressure of many changes going on in our life. We are so incredibly blessed, and it’s difficult to even admit when I’m struggling. I am often high on life, and come across as a strong athlete able to scale the walls alone. Yet I’m just like you, covered in mud, needing your helping hands to pull me over this obstacle. No we are not as strong as we think we are.