My Strength

Ever since deciding to join the Navy, I've had people put their two cents in on how it was going to be and how they felt I would fare.  I've had plenty of support, with a naysayer here or there.  I've heard horror stories and stories of potential gain through military employment.  I've heard a lot while trying to gain even more information.  I've heard of the good, the bad, and the ugly.  Yet, the most inspirational thing I've heard, was from my mother and it was the most unexpected phrase, too:

"You can't do it alone.  Not by yourself."

You maybe thinking, "What?  That sounds like some pretty heavy nay-saying to me!  And from your mother of all people?  Really?"  Now, before we start winding our necks and sucking our teeth, maybe I should get a little more of the story in.  You see, at the beginning of last week, I started a running regimen to try and build my endurance for running for PT and so I didn't have to get stuck keeping pace.  Yet, I don't what it was I did wrong when I started out; maybe I didn't stretch properly, maybe I didn't hydrate myself well, maybe running on the concrete was harder versus being on the treadmill, or something.  Yet, when I started, I just felt incredibly heavy and I couldn't go more than two minutes without having to wheeze to a stop.  Mind you, I had tried running before, but stopped for a while because my running shoes were falling apart, causing my knees to hurt.    Just the day previous I managed to go seven minutes on the treadmill with no problem.  So, you could imagine my discouragement at my regression.  I would run for two minutes, trying to go for three minutes, but failed miserably.  I did this for maybe 10 minutes before my calves got too tight to run and I had to limp back home.

Thoughts of self-doubt began to cloud my mind, thinking perhaps those who questioned my abilities were right.  Maybe I was biting off more than I could chew and there was no way I'd be able to meet all the physical qualifications by May (my weight had still been giving me trouble as well).

Frustrated and exhausted, I began to cry. I gasped and huffed and sniffled myself through the door and my mother, who was on the couch, asked me how my run went.  She could tell something was wrong when I wouldn't look as her.  With a smile that only a mother could smile, she pulled me beside her onto the couch and it was then I began bawling my woes to her.  I hiccuped and she listened.  I whined and she listened.  I cried and she listened.

And, still with that mothering smile of her's, my mom put my head on her shoulder and said, "It's good that you know your limitations and your weaknesses, because it's then that you realize you can't do it alone.  Not by yourself.  Not without of God."

It was then she spoke of rejoicing in the fact that you are weak because it presents the opportunity for the Lord to show himself to you and work through you.  In that, he can show you things you had taken for granted, things you need to improve on, and the motivation you need; all while simultaneously empowering you to do the things that need to be done.

While I listened to her, I realized the truth in her words.  I had already realized the importance of having her in my life.  I've also realized the importance of having a reliable support group who love me and do support me, because even when I don't believe I can do it, or I've become depressingly discourage, there's always someone around to remind me of how capable I really am.  Even in that instant, The Lord revealed so much to me to help me keep going.

After our chat, we prayed for strength and mom prescribed that I pray every time I went out for a run.  Which I've done and have made it to being able to run at least four minutes at a time.  The progress is very uplifting and I'm still aiming for those seven minutes.

Next mission: Weightloss!  Oh, boy...