We traipse through the deep powder, up and over the hill, to find the perfect sledding spot. And the snow swallows our feet with each and every step. We’d been waiting for this.
It’s our first time sledding as a family and the excitement is palpable. We work together to carve out the perfect path down this sloping hill, and create a few curves in the path for fun. And taking turns as we go, the afternoon fun is hard to compare to anything we’ve done in a long while.
They each sled down again and again, but not without a few crashes—minor ones at first, then more severe as the fun breeds increasingly daring spirits.
McKenna is first to fall hard with a face plant in the snow–eyelashes now dusted with snow and glistening in the light of the setting sun. It takes her time, but she finally recovers, finds her smile, and begins to walk up the hill again.
Ally crashes next, and icy snow goes down her neck, up her sleeves, and into her boots, so cold. But she brushes out the cold snowflakes from the tender warm spots, bundles up, and begins her hike to the top.
Lucas starts and stops and tips and turns, but always gets up again, no matter his trajectory-challenged sledding, nothing stops his adventure. He keeps going down and climbing back up, no matter what, and sometimes when he falls, he sits right there for a while and plays—making snowballs right where he lands.
But Brayden crashes for the sixth time and is angry—at his failure, angry at himself. He stomps away and sits on a log–paralyzed by his lack of success, voluntarily sitting out the rest of the time, on a rock, at the top of the hill, watching us all continue going down.
The reaction reveals the heart, and the fear that resides there.
And the real failure is to refuse to access the courage that can only exist in the presence of the fear.
I must admit, I want to get it right the first time too—the sooner the better.
More often than not, I sense the resistance, feel the fear, and in my heart … my spirit quits for a time. Momentary setbacks, fear of failure and lack of comfort grip me more often than I’m willing to admit, and I grapple and wrestle with what to do.
It’s the dilemma for us all…
Do we pick up our sled, climb the steep hill, and try again?
And if we do, do we carve a unforged path or try the same path again?
Or do we sit atop the hill on a rock and watch everyone else sledding down, all the while wishing we could too?
People who have made a difference in the world began their work by doing something uncomfortable.
Never confuse comfort with calling.
Fear makes us uncomfortable.
But courage is only found in the presence of fear.
So as we consider our God-sized dreams, chances are, what we’re called to do will be uncomfortable.
We’ll face fear.
And in the pursuit of our dream we’ll fall down along the way.
But to realize our dream, we have to get up, again and again. Show up. Do the work. Climb the hill. And sled down again. Even in the face of a setting sun.
Do you have a dream? A calling?
I’m daring myself to get up after every face plant in the snow, continue toward my dream, live in my calling, and push through my fear toward something more.
I’m purposing to show up, again and again, for something that matters…
Something to which He’s called me…
Something He can use for good…
Whatever that may be.
Won’t you join me?
Do you have a dream? A calling?
What is the fear you’re facing?