Today I stepped into the gym…broken, raw and unsure of my strength. It’s a season of uncertainty. One in which, I’ve been doubting my place in this world. I’ve found myself feeling small and unsure. I’ve felt fear and I’ve felt like I am not enough.
We’ve all been here. In this space where we doubt we matter. Where we worry we aren’t loved or enough. Where we aren’t valued, enough. Where we aren’t.simply.enough.
I walked through the red door, fragile.
And then, I pushed up 115 pounds on the bench. A new PR for me.
A seemingly simple act of sitting down. Lying back. Staring up at this bar. One hand reaching, grasping a hold of it. Then the other. Adjusting and tightening my grip. Pushing down with my heels. Pulling my shoulder blades together. Taking a deep breath. Lowering the bar.
Pushing the bar back up to where it started from. It’s heavy. It’s hard. It’s more than I’ve ever lifted. It doesn’t go up easy.
But it goes up. All the way up.
And even though it’s back to where it started, it doesn’t feel like it. It feels like it’s beyond where it started. Because it’s heavier than last time. And I got it up faster than last time.
And just like any hardship, I know this is exactly how I’ll make it through to the other side of this brokenness and struggle. I will stare up at the bar. I will grip it tightly. Push down my heels and pull my shoulder blades together, and I will push that bar up, faster than I have before. Even though it’s heavier.
And I will feel strong.