The Lesson My Son Taught Me

I wrote this a couple weeks back but didn’t have time to get back to it until now. Even though National Novel Writing Month is over, the lesson my son taught me applies to more than writing. It’s a life lesson.

Today the 5:30 am wake-up call got old. Correction; it got old a few days back but this morning the temptation to stay under the warm covers got real. The battle waged within me, until I dragged my weary body out into the cold dark morning. 

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Today I wanted to quit. My body and brain are tired. Doubts plague my mind. I know I can write fifty-thousand words but will it be any good? Why bother trying?

We all get to the point where we feel like stopping, don’t we? Whether it’s our job, a relationship, parenting, or some physical activity, we get to the point where we think we can’t do it one more minute. One more day. One more year. We’re scared we haven’t got what it takes to finish well or at all. We’re sure we aren’t good enough. The ending is unknown. Will the good guys win or the bad? Why continue? 

Precisely because we don’t know how it ends, we need to carry on. We need to push through to the other side. My son reminded me of this last week. He’s trying out for the basketball team and the coach had them running for the entire two hours. My son has learned over the years that you have to keep running, if you want to make the team. So he said to me, “I wanted to stop but I just pushed through it.”  

My kids are my best teachers. I wanted to stop but I just pushed through it. How different would our situations be if we just implemented that philosophy? 

If we beat back the pain, the doubts, the questions and just kept moving forward. On those days when the bed is warm and 5:30 am seems like the middle of the night. When our kid is hitting our buttons and we want to quit on them. When we have to pay rent but the job is boring. When marriage doesn’t live up to our expectations. When a relationship veers off course. I wanted to stop but I just pushed through it.

We all experience the desire to quit and it’s not weak to admit it. The key is distinguishing between the times we need to stop because we need help, and the times we think it would be easier to quit. I’m writing about the latter today. It would have been easier to stay in bed this morning and forget my word count. But the momentary pleasure of a sleep-in would have faded quickly, replaced with disappointment in myself. The less challenging path may provide temporary relief but it doesn’t last. There’s always fallout that results in regret, disappointment and sadness. 

Calling it a day has a ripple effect and those around us feel it too.  Often times when I’m upset with myself, I take it out on those closest to me. I’m not a happy camper so the rest of the house suffers. So when we consider quitting, we need to keep in mind those around us. Our decision affects them too.

I’m glad I got up today and spent those couple of hours in solitude, writing. I got my word count but more than that, I proved something to myself. I’m not a quitter. I wasn’t raised that way. I have what it takes to stay the course. 

The ending may remain unknown but the journey to its discovery, is worth it. So those dark, cold, winter mornings when the bed is warm and you want to stay put, push through it and get up. You’ll thank yourself in the end.

PS. He made the team and I made the 50K word count. And if you feel like quitting and it’s more than a passing bad day, then I would encourage you to speak out and seek help from a counsellor, a pastor, or friend. It’s not weak to admit you’re at the end of your rope and you need someone to come alongside you. You are not alone.

Turn Home

Home. What is your reaction to that word? I imagine there are as many different responses as people reading this blog.

What got me thinking about home was the study of the prodigal and a very poignant scene in a book I read a few months back.

The prodigal ran away from his home.  He demanded his inheritance and left home to go live the way he wanted.  Eventually the money ran out and he was feeding pigs.  Realizing he would be treated better at his father’s house as a servant, he returns home.  Hid dad welcomes him with open arms and won’t hear about him working as a servant.  He is restored to his place as his dad’s son.  The story is recorded in the gospel of Luke 15 if you are unfamiliar with it.

In the novel I read, the main character was forced from her home.  Many years later, she is weeping and someone asks her why is she crying? Here is the quote from the novel Heir of Fire by Sarah J. Maas:


‘“Because I am lost,” she whispered into the earth. “And I do not know the way.”
It was what she had never been able to tell Nehemia – that for ten years, she had been unsure how to find the way home, because there was no home left.” (Heir of Fire, by Sarah J. Maas, p.281)

That scene has stayed with me for months because I understand exactly what this character is expressing. When we can’t find home, we are lost. Have you ever felt that way?

After many moves and as I age, I’m learning home is not really a place. I’ve lived in many houses, not all have been a home.

We put a lot of emphasis on the physical home here in North America. We are told in countless ways that the places we live need to be up to date and nicely decorated. There’s a certain standard to live up to. I agree that living in a place you find nice, goes a long way to making it a home. But it’s not the main thing. I think we have it all wrong.

I believe home is whatever we give our hearts to. That saying, Home is Where Your Heart Is, is true. That’s why it doesn’t necessarily have to be a place. It can be a person, a job, a dream. We lose sight of the fact that these homes are all temporary.

We can get lost in them. We lose our way from our true home. God created us with a longing in our very beings to be in a relationship with Him. He is our true home. I heard a speaker in the summer talk about how we should not inspire children to want to go to Heaven. Because heaven is not the prize, he said. God is.

Making our physical homes, our spouses, our jobs or our ministries our homes sets us up to get lost. We put our hope in things and people only to get disappointed. We become disillusioned and we wander away from the source of our true home and hope.

Sometimes like that character in the book, we can’t find our way back. We are lost. All we really want is to go home but we can’t find it anymore. How do we get back?

We make it harder than it is, I think. In the story of the prodigal, the son turned towards home and found his dad waiting for him at the end of the drive. God is the same. If we turn to Him, He is there. Waiting to welcome us home.

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