Hello there, friend,
This past weekend was rough. We were all at our wits' end with each other and the prospect of one more week before school starting was overwhelming. Sunday night, my husband and I sat up late talking, a strained conversation with lots of tears. Sometimes it all feels so hard and hopeless. I laid my head on the pillow and tried to allay my fears about this coming week. 'One more week,' I thought, 'then this is all going to change.'
I woke yesterday after everyone else. When I went downstairs, the coffee was hot and the faces were smiling. "Let's go to spinning," my husband suggested. I agreed and sat at the table with my coffee. "Teach me how to knit," my daughter asked. Instead my husband taught her how to do some finger weaving thing that he remembered from his childhood. I watched them and grabbed the knitting I started over the weekend.
Later, when we got on the bike at the gym, ready for our spinning class to start, I realized I felt great. The worries of the previous night had washed away. I was ready to work, ready to sweat, ready to face whatever was coming. And I couldn't help but think, as my legs pushed and pulled the wheel around, about endurance and life and how we must must persevere. Even in the climb, even in the highest gears.