Running on a muddy trail in the pouring ran, I wanted to stop. I wanted the people I was following to stop. I was new to this group and their “ways” and while I was impressed and inspired by their commitment to continue forth, to finish their exercise routine, rain or shine, I was also aptly intimidated. I fell behind. I wished I had left when I had the chance. I wished I had better sneakers with more traction. But there I was, now alone, on a rocky, slippery trail, surrounded by brush, grumbling to myself and having a private “pity party” moment.
As I carefully trudged forward, eyes on the ground so as not to lose my footing, a moment of realization washed over me. I did not trust I could do this. It had nothing to do with my sneakers, or the rain, or the mud. I did not trust that my body could handle it – that I would not lose my footing and slip over the edge. I did not trust my will – that I would go the distance with the group, regardless of the weather or fatigue. I did not trust my resolve. I did not trust that I was now part of this group, of this experience and that I was adding to that experience, not holding it back. I did not trust that I am enough. I felt the tears sting my eyes then instantly washed away by the now pounding rain. I gave myself over to the group and continued on, letting their energy, their inspiring spirits, their beliefs pull me forward.
As the hike continued, the rain would break momentarily and sunlight would hit the glistening trees and cloud filled mountain sky around us. It was beautiful. In that moment, I realized that I am one of “these people” to my kids. I am their guide. I am their inspiration. I pick them up and put them back on the trail when they falter. I keep them going when they want to stop. I pull them forward. I teach them to trust themselves. I tell them out loud and work to instill in them deep down that they are enough.
As this awareness played out in my mind, it suddenly became clear to me that this is playing out in other areas of my life as well. In my relationship with their dad. In my struggling friendships. In my many family situations. In my business. I needed to start believing that which I tell my kids, “I am enough.” It struck me then that this also translates into letting others be enough. Trusting that we can trust in others if we trust in ourselves. That we can ask for what we want and need and trust that it will be provided. And if it isn’t, trusting that we can and will move on and find somewhere, someone, some place, some way in which our needs, our wants, and our selves will be met with love, respect, understanding, and gratitude. Slips and falls are going to occur, and weather patterns will change, but I will stay the course, for I trust that there is enough for each of us.
©2009 Kathleen Melton
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