I set a goal on Monday. “I’m going to finish my book proposal by Friday.”
It wasn’t an impossible goal, but I didn’t accomplish it.
As usual, my brain wants to make that mean all sorts of negative things. (I’m a failure. I’ll never get it done. I always do things like this, so why even try?)
I’ve been fighting those thoughts (and losing) for the last couple of days.
Why can’t I focus on what I did get done instead? I spent almost two hours working on it on Tuesday evening (after procrastinating all of Monday and most of Tuesday). I wrote and tweaked parts of it on Wednesday for over an hour.
There were moments when I fell into despair because I didn’t like what I had already written. There were also flashes of hope when I wrote a new paragraph and saw how it might help a reader someday.
As I blog today, I’m choosing to celebrate the baby steps I took this week. I didn’t finish my proposal, but I’m three hours closer to completion. A few more baby steps next week and it might be ready to pass along to an agent.
There are other projects on my heart. It can be overwhelming to think about all of the steps involved in getting them done. Breaking them down into baby steps could help my brain see them as more possible.
We have to remember that there are going to be times in our lives when we race ahead, full of energy and ambition. Then there are those times when things are harder. We don’t have the confidence or energy to run, but even baby steps can keep us moving toward the finish line.
“I consider my life worth nothing to me; my only aim is to finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me—the task of testifying to the good news of God’s grace.” (Acts 20:24 NIV)
Do you get frustrated because you aren’t getting things done as quickly as you’d like? How can focusing on God help you to move forward—one baby step at a time?
Last week I told you about the first part of our attempt to hike for a week in Tennessee. I didn’t count the cost, so we adjusted our plans and decided to end our trip after four days (instead of seven).
After we made the decision to quit, we still had to get through two cold nights and a day and a half of difficult hiking (mostly uphill).
On Tuesday morning we set out at daybreak. It felt like every time I looked up there was another set of stairs we had to climb. I would go for a while and then stop and lean on my hiking poles while I let my heart rate slow back down. Then I’d take a deep breath and tackle the next hill.
We were still only going an average of about a mile an hour, and my attitude soon leaned toward despair. As I hiked, I started to let out a little whimper with almost every step. I knew I was being pathetic, but I just couldn’t seem to help it.
We finally got to Derrick Knob Shelter at 1:50. We sat and rested a while, then got back on the trail. We still had six miles to go and we knew we were going to have to hike in the dark if we kept up the same pace. Gary had given me a little pep talk during our break. “You look like a really tough hiker chick,” he encouraged me. “You can do this.”
I didn’t believe that I looked like a great hiker, but I chose to think that way. I hiked to the rhythm of a short, punchy phrase for a while, but it included a naughty word and I didn’t feel right about it. (Pastors’ wives never swear, do they?) So I changed it. God’s glorious hiker chick. God’s glorious hiker chick. It was silly, but it worked. With every word I stabbed my poles down in front of me. When the trail flattened out, I tried to go as fast as I could. When it went up again, I tried to go farther before I stopped to rest.
We talked to a southbound hiker who asked where we were headed. “Silas Bald Shelter,” we answered. He looked shocked. “Some people have big, audacious goals,” he muttered as he hiked away.
I kept up my hiking mantra. My I-can’t-do-this whimper disappeared and my attitude changed. It was still hard, but I became even more determined to get to our next campsite before dark. We enjoyed a few spots with beautiful views of the Smoky Mountains, but most of the trail was surrounded by trees. We did make it to the shelter before dark!
Wednesday we hiked the last five miles, finally leaving the woods and merging with the groups of tourists walking to Clingmans Dome on the paved road. We noticed that they all kept their distance from us (even more than six feet!). Guess not showering for a few days bothers some people.
We sat at the foot of the observation tower for a while, then climbed it (leaving our packs at the bottom). We hiked down the road to the parking lot and found a spot to lie down and wait for my parents to get there and pick us up.
We were tired, but proud of ourselves for making it as far as we did. We had challenged ourselves, pushed our limits, and finished well. I hope I can do the same in the rest of life.
I want to challenge myself to do great things. Even if I have to alter my plans once in a while, I’ll keep moving forward with an I-can-do-it attitude.
I want to push my limits. I don’t do that very often because it’s uncomfortable, but I know I’ll grow physically, emotionally, and spiritually when I do something that’s outside my comfort zone.
I want to finish well. I don’t want to get to the end of my life and wish I had accomplished more, loved better, and enjoyed life more. I’m God’s glorious hiker chick and I’m going to finish the race, giving glory to the God who loves me and is with me every step of the way!
“However, I consider my life worth nothing to me; my only aim is to finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me—the task of testifying to the good news of God’s grace.” (Acts 20:24 NIV)
How are you traveling through life? Do you think “I can’t do this”? How can focusing on God help you to finish life well, whatever lies ahead?
Here are some more pictures of our Appalachian Trail adventure:
A nice view of the Smoky Mountains (Tennessee) Rockytop – we enjoyed a good break here.Good to see the white blaze and know we were still on the right trail. Another view of the Smokies.We made it to our destination – but we didn’t dare ask anyone to take our picture together. Gary made it, too! (A scruffy husband is a happy husband.)Clingmans Dome is the highest point on the AT (6643 feet)
