What if The Harder Way is The Better Way?
I was so afraid to risk. I thought I wanted to quit. But what I really needed was grit.
S E L A H L E T T E R
June 2023
Oh hi there,
Did you know it's mid-June already!? I did not.
We recently returned from a two-week trip to Washington and Alaska and we're still a LITTLE upside down. Time changes and red-eye flights with two babies is no joke!
But it was worth every bit of sleep we've lost. We had such a delightful time seeing many dear friends at our denominational gathering in Spokane, then spending a restful week with my whole family at my sister's home outside of Anchorage.
It was not very long ago that I attended every conference and family vacation on my own.
And each time, though it would be wonderful in many ways, I was also profoundly and painfully aware of my singleness. Everything seemed to remind me of what I didn't have, but wanted so badly.
On one family trip to Lake Tahoe a few summers ago, I reached a breaking point. I had turned 39 and just wanted to give up hoping for my own family one day.
I thought, perhaps, that would make it easier. I thought, if I could turn off my heart, it wouldn't hurt so much.
In tears, I told my sisters one night that I was done hoping, done trying, done praying.
And in tears, they lovingly replied, NO MA'AM. YOU ABSOLUTELY ARE NOT.
They knew hope was hard, yes. They knew hope hurt, yes.
They also knew I needed to go after hope with all my heart. To do whatever it would take. To learn to be brave.
I was so afraid to risk.
I thought I wanted to quit.
But what I really needed was grit.
Later that trip, I joined a long, hard hike with my brother and brothers-in-law and nearly turned around several times. But we finally reached the top and I saw why people do hard things. The view is better from the peak.
Also that same week, I watched my niece, Audrey, learning to ride a bike. Much like her aunt, she struggled to take risks, to not quit, to be a beginner. But as she persevered, her grit grew, her legs got stronger, and she was finally able to take off the training wheels. And, oh, the fun she had.
Last week in Alaska, I took another long, hard hike. This time with a baby snuggled in tight (and another by my side).
It would have been easier on my own. I could have gone faster alone.
But what a joy to journey together. And what a gift to share the view.
I am so glad I kept going.
I am so glad I kept growing.
I still hate doing hard things.
But sometimes the harder way is actually the better way.
In today's Poem+Practice+Prayer, I invite you to explore the places where giving up might feel easier.
Would you instead ask yourself honestly if you really want to quit? Or... if you may just need a little more grit.
I wrote this poem, BETTER, soon after that hike in Tahoe as a note-to-self to keep pressing in and pressing on.
I share it with you here as a blessing for perseverance, for resilience, and for courage.
I hope you keep hoping. I hope you keep going.
Whether it's a long hike, learning to ride a bike, or risking your heart for love and new life, may we do the better thing today. Even if it's harder.
with you,
Sarah
A P O E M
Better
By Sarah Bourns Crosby
It’s easier to stay in the valley
Than hike to the peak.
It’s easier to follow the pack
Than move into the lead.
It’s easier to begin
Than see it through to the end.
It’s easier to check out
Than to lean all the way in.
It’s easier to give up
Than to do it imperfectly.
It’s easier to stay safe
Than take off the training wheels.
It’s easier to turn back
Than to push on ahead.
It’s easier to stay stuck
Than to take the next step.
It’s easier to blame others
Than to own your own stuff.
It’s easier to keep silent
Than learn to speak up.
It’s easier to be broken
Than choose to be brave.
It’s easier to hold back
Than to let go and live.
It’s easier.
But it’s not better.
The view is better from the peak.
The reward is richer from the lead.
The joy is deeper when you get to the end.
The connection is closer when you lean all the way in.
You get far more done imperfectly.
You have far more fun with no training wheels.
Your legs get stronger as you push on ahead.
Your heart beats faster when you risk the next step.
There’s growth when you own your own stuff.
There’s grace when you learn to speak up.
There’s healing when you choose to be brave.
There’s freedom when you let go and live.
It’s harder.
But it’s better.
May we choose today what is better.
A P R A C T I C E
Do The Hard Thing
I dare you (I double dog dare you) to do something this week that feels hard. Not because you're a glutton for punishment. But because you know it will be better.
Is it grit that you need?
Is it hope?
Is it courage?
Pay attention to how you feel before and after.
May you see resistance become resilience.
And may the fear of failure turn into freedom.
A P R A Y E R
for grit
Lord, you know I hate doing hard things.
It would be easier to quit.
But maybe I actually need more grit.
Would you remind me to keep persevering?
Give me that push without the training wheels?
Help me to know where to be brave and push on and press in.
Give me the grace to keep hoping and keep going.
Or give me the wisdom to know when it's time to stay, to sit still, and to wait.
You know what is better.
Amen.
Friends, I would love to hear your experiences of doing the harder thing (hit reply and tell all). I'm cheering you on and lifting you up!
Until next time, keep hoping, keep going.
~Sarah
P. S.
Thanks to some technical expertise from my pal @charissabrim as well as a new look by @theinspiredfoundry, my 'lil website got a facelift! See what's new!