Try Hard

I've spent my whole life trying hard.

We've hashed through this quite a bit recently on this blog.

I look all around me, and I see people... striving.  I think "striving" is a good way to describe it.  If you look up the definition to "strive", you'll see words like exert vigorously, make strenuous efforts, or struggle.

It makes me think of yesterday, watching my 3 1/2 year old try to make her way across the back yard.  The problem is we have had over three feet of snow in the past couple weeks.  I watched as she would struggle to take a step, and once she finally did she would sink down in snow up to her armpits.

She was struggling.  An exertion was taking place.  I felt tired watching her.

Before, I tried because I was afraid.  I felt I had already disappointed anyone who mattered to me, so every new person I met felt like a  new opportunity to prove myself.  I tried because I was hungry for restoration. It was a dark hunger, the kind that gnaws at your insides to the point that you feel sick.

Even though I tried, I reserved myself, so that if I failed, I could lick my wounds and comfort myself with the fact that I hadn't given everything I had.

When I allowed God to heal my past hurts, and began to learn how to accept the love He offered me, my trying changed.

Actually, I think at first my trying  pretty much stopped.  It was a gathering of my thoughts, emotions, and past experiences.  It was a regrouping and redefining period.  I kind of sat in this rest of the idea that I didn't have to prove anything anymore.

But I feel like something incredible happened at that point.

Something new was born in me.

I wanted to try again.  But this time I wanted to give everything.  I wanted to jump off the edge of the cliff to fly with no safety net.

I became more brave because I had experienced the grace of God.

Suddenly, I was aware that even if I took a huge, clumsy tumble (that I am known for!), it didn't mean anything. It wouldn't keep God from loving me, or being proud of me.

During this last stint in the hospital, Trevor came into my room with a little stuffed eagle (not an actual stuffed eagle. A stuffed animal eagle). He said he didn't know why, but it made him think of me.

So, I named her Elizabeagle the eagle, because that's how I do.

But honestly, it's probably my favorite thing he's ever given me.  Because, at the risk of sounding extremely corny, I feel like that eagle.   Now I feel like I can soar.

Okay. I'm starting to sound like a Ray Boltz song.

Hopefully this post connects with you! Have you ever struggled with trying for the wrong reasons? Let me know in the comments!