The smack of cold air made me question my choice.
Living in Phoenix Arizona has made me a wimp when it comes to low temperatures. But since I love to walk in the mornings, I donned multiple layers and headed out into the 32 degree Michigan sunrise (I know 32 degrees Fahrenheit is not that cold—like I said, a wimp).
Strolling through my sister-in-law’s quiet neighborhood was invigorating. The crisp air. The brilliant blue sky. The burnt orange autumn leaves. I leaned into the season and savored its gifts.
My wife and I were in Michigan to visit our families, including our aging parents. All in their eighties, they are in the winter season of life, which places us in a season of increased care-giving. Watching them navigate the joys and challenges of aging is both heartening and painful.
The chilly temperatures and my elderly loved ones got me thinking about life’s seasons. The blend of good times and hard times is as inevitable as summer and winter, spring and fall. We can’t avoid seasons, but we can choose how we respond to them.
Not surprisingly, I’ve often tried to cling to a good season, hoping to make it last. It seldom works. More often than not, I spoil the ending. The petals of the once-beautiful flower whither and fall, while I add water in vain.
In hard times, my default is to rush through as fast as possible. Once the unpleasant season is completed, I do my best to stuff it down and forget the dark days’ bitter wind, missing the opportunity for growth.
I’m trying to learn a better approach:
- Embrace each season as it comes, welcoming its presence, knowing it’s necessary for my growth.
- Savor the good seasons and cherish the meaningful memories they bring.
- Face the hard seasons with grace and open myself to the lessons they teach.
- At the appointed time, let each season go with gratitude.
What season of life are you in? Spring? Summer? Autumn? Winter? Embrace it. Savor the good. Learn from the hard. Let them go. If you do, your growth will flourish, and you’ll take another step toward Becoming Yourself.
It was a really dumb thing to do. In my defense, I was standing on a small wooden platform 30 feet up a tree. Given that I’m not a fan of heights, the logical part of my brain was not fully engaged. I was on a high ropes course, the kind that has zip lines, wire walks, and other obstacle course elements suspended far above the forest floor. It’s basically a torture device.
So I stood there with a thin wire running from a harness at my waist to an equally thin wire above my head. And I was supposed to step off the platform. I could’ve backed out, of course. But that would have meant a humiliating climb back down the 30 foot ladder in front of the group of students I was supposedly leading on this excursion. Not a very attractive alternative.
So it was with a sigh of relief that I stepped off the platform. And then the full weight of my 6’ 3” frame cranked the support line tight around my hand. My palm felt like it was pinned under a semi. Gasping in pain and realizing my stupidity, I wrenched my hand free. Dangling unceremoniously from a cable that could have easily held a small elephant, one clear thought penetrated the fog of pain and humiliation – I should have trusted the wire.
Have you ever tried to hedge your bets? Play both sides? Put one foot into a fluid situation while attempting to keep the other firmly on solid ground? How did that work out for you? Obviously there are times and situations where it pays to be cautious. But there are also times when we just have to choose to trust. To step out. To risk. To dive in. With a relationship. With a business venture. With an unexpected opportunity.
So how do you know the difference? How can you tell when to be appropriately cautious and when to take the risk? By asking yourself one simple question – is this worthy of my trust? For me on that ropes course, it was. I paid the price for not going all in.
