Rising to Requirement

I've taken to picking up the mail in order to get me out from behind my desk. Yesterday, there was a large package for one of my bosses needing to be taken across campus back to our office.

Instinctively, I hoisted it and the tray of other mail up on one hand above my head just as I had learned to do when I waitressed.

When I did so, I recalled my training days and how intimidated I was at the idea that I was not just encouraged but required to carry each tray full of food with one hand above my head, grabbing a tray stand with the other and maneuver my way to the correctly numbered table.

Some of those trays were 30 or so pounds or more--don't even get me started with fajitas for a table of four.

Muscle is not something I've ever prided myself on. Ain't no pictures of me flexing in front of a mirror. This task was my personal fear factor. Images of dropping hot plates of enchiladas on children and the elderly danced through my head during my entire training. How was I going to do this?

But I did.

Fajitas and I never became bosom friends, but I got some very nice shoulder muscles and learned to do my job quickly and efficiently, with a smile on my face.

It's amazing how much capacity we have to rise to the occasion even when, at the start of a project/semester/job, it's easy to become overwhelmed and discouraged.

When I began my MA program, it was 5000 word papers that caused anxiety.
Waitressing brought "big tops", timed everything, and tray carrying.
Admissions brought travel season planning, events coordinating, and dressing like an adult every day.
Running brought running.

We rise to requirement, whether that's psychological, emotional, spiritual, physical, or mental.

The times we don't, I truly believe it's because a piece of us doesn't want to or doesn't believe we can.
Sometimes, like obedience, the actions come before the feelings.

If I think about running, I won't go. If I think about the distance that I need to run, I will give up.
If I had let myself ruminate on my papers when I was coping with my depression, they wouldn't have gotten written. I'm still unsure how they got written in the first place, but they did.

Looking at the whole can be wholly exhausting.
One step, one phone call, one mile (or one lap), one tray, one chapter, one paragraph, one outfit.
Small achievable goals.

And someday, you'll be walking across your own quad with a heavy box above your head/walking across the stage to receive your Master's/finishing up 6 weeks of travel for work/running 3 miles for the first time/effortlessly pairing a business casual ensemble for the 3972 time (or whatever your equivalent is) and think to yourself, "I can do so much more than I can imagine. Thanks be to God".