This may be the least profound and the most important tool I have in fighting off life’s monsters.
Breathe in. Breath out. Focus on the moment I am in right now. Do the next thing. Put one foot in front of the other. Keep going.
There are times when the next five minutes are all I can handle. Keeping life as small and manageable as possible. There is no shame in this. It is amazingly adaptable. I let go of the past, because I can’t change it. I trust my future to God’s hands, because I can’t do anything about it either. I keep my sights on the moment. And I do the best I can right now.
When it comes to fighting the Big Bads in life, we need to keep it basic.
I’ve always been a planner. Lists of goals. Detailed schedules. Purposeful routines.
The first time reality overwhelmed my need to organize the world was the death of my son Noah. Not only was I reeling from his loss, from the trauma of delivering my silent, perfect little baby, but the doctors had removed my kidney the week before. I was recovering both body and soul.
All I wanted to do was nothing. Lie down. Listen to the same sad song over and over again. Stare into space. At nights I wandered the house and surfed the internet.
It was harder and harder to get out of bed at all. And that scared me. I asked my mom “what if?” What if I crawl into bed and never crawl out? What if I can’t do this? What if I’m not strong enough? What if I get stuck?
She told me that she and my husband would pull me out if needs be. That if it got that bad, there would be medication and therapy and they would carry me through. And it would get better. She would know… my brother Bradley was stillborn too.
So I started a strange little ritual. For the first time in my life I started wearing make-up every day. I was less likely to climb back into bed once I had lipstick and eyeliner on. Even if I did nothing else all day, this was the start. It wasn’t a big thing, but it got me out of my bed, down the stairs and eventually back into life.
When B was in the hospital week after week, I leaned on this ritual again. Especially when she was in isolation, so very sick and sleeping all day long. There was little to set the days apart from the nights. Some of the rooms we stayed in were closet sized, others had no windows at all. Daily make-up became a sign of strength for me; very little to do with vanity, much to do with intentional living.
It doesn’t always feel like strength. Some days it’s hard to do even this. But I do it anyway then. Especially then.
Everyone has their own rituals, daily steps forward, simple everyday signs of life. Ones that may seem miniscule and silly to others, but are statements to ourselves: that I am not beaten, that I can do this one thing, that I am still me…
For me it’s make-up, writing, laundry on Mondays, prayer at dinnertime and goodnight hugs. How ’bout you?
When life spins out of control. The monsters at my door are despair, discouragement, and depression. Do what you have to do to get through. Remember that the best you can do, is all that you need to do.
Keep it small.
Keep it manageable.