The Beauty of Suffering

All I could think of was how glorious this morning turned out to be. The sun weaving between the trees impressing intense heat amidst the cool shade of the forest. The damp ground. The stillness. The silence. It was going to be a long hike. A hard one, but a good one.

The friend I was with, while appreciative of the beauty, saw more struggle in this morning physical push to get up the mountain than I did. There were moments at the half way mark where she would exclaim how she wanted to be done. How she wished for the end to come quicker. Whiney? Not so much a complaint, but unable to see the good, the hope, through the pain, the hurt.

“What choice do we have?” I asked her. Shall we sit down here, stop fighting through it. Not face the pain? Not endure the struggle to achieve and receive the good? Or do we embrace our options and love the choice we make and the road it takes us on? “We can turn around,” I tell her, “or sit here. Or keep hiking up the mountain. Those are our options. Enjoy this. Be in this moment. It’s where we are.”

“It is what we all need – hope that comes not from going around suffering, but from going through it.” –Rob Bell

This quote has always had endless “real life” situations to apply it to. Could be as simple as the physical challenge of hiking up a mountain. Maybe as obvious and difficult as overcoming loss or depression. Sometimes much more hidden. Much more outrageous. Much more ambiguous.

Recently, I’ve found myself in a situation where I’m required to make a choice about struggles and hope. A choice that could cause a lot of pain and difficulty in my life for quite some time if I’m not careful. I’m not an ignorant, innocent victim - I wandered knowingly into this position, but underestimated the strength I would need to pull myself out of it.

A cautious and logical person would give me a good eye roll and tell me in a tone of voice designed to reflect the obviousness of my self-perceived dilemma that choosing the path that doesn’t inflict the hurt and the tears would be best.

I consider myself logical and cautious. I also consider myself strong and intuitive. That logical and cautious decision I should be making doesn’t feel right. In fact, it feels very wrong and very weak. It makes me feel like a coward running away from it.

I know there is nothing wrong with protecting myself. But there is a lot to be gained by making myself vulnerable and taking this risk. More than just the opportunity of an amazing friendship with an amazing individual. And oh, would that be good. The enjoyment of that alone almost makes the pain worth it.

What if I told you that I would be facing a deep issue of mine? What if I told you that making the decision to put myself through this struggle rather than running away from it would be an opportunity to clean up some old war/ love wounds?

Because the way I see it now is that I’m half way up that mountain. Am I just going to sit down and cry about it? Am I going to turn around? Not face the pain? Not learn and grow from it? Accept defeat because I’m weak?


No.

I’m going to enjoy it. Appreciate the rough and ugly, the pain and suffering, as much as I’ll love the pleasureful and the beautiful. Not in denial, not unaware. Open. Honest. Strong.

I can do this.

I’m going through the suffering, not around it.

I’m going to finish this long, hard and glorious hike.