BLISTERS

I hate yard work. Not because I don't like a neatly trimmed weed-free yard, but because I don't like to be the one who keeps it that way. I don't like to pull weeds. I don't like to trim hedges. I don't like to push the mower. And I don't like to pull the rake. I'm more of a plant flowers and keep them watered kind of chick.


Well. This evening we had to venture to our rental to clean up an overgrown yard. We knew it was way overdue, but we weren't expecting it to be so bad. I guess we thought if we put it off this unpleasant task long enough it would go away. Unfortunately it just kept growing and growing as these things tend to do. It took about 3 hours to tame the out-of-control grass and weeds with myself, Robby and Kimberly all working non-stop. Robby knocked it down with the weed eater, I pushed the mower and Kimberly raked and bagged with a little trade-off here and there. It's just an average size yard, but it seemed more like a football field by the time we went over it all --three times each!


Apparently my little feminine hands aren't used to manual labor because I managed to get 6 blisters (two bigger ones on my palms and two in the curve of my knuckles from the mower, and one on each thumb from the rake). I'm not whining (although they DO hurt). But I want to share a brief story that these painful things got me thinking about.


When I was young I enjoyed gymnastics. I actually was pretty good at it and was able to be competitive at several levels. I loved the balance beam and the floor exercise was fun, but I was intimidated by the vault and the uneven bars took a lot of work and gave me blisters. I remember talking to my Dad after practice and complaining about my hands hurting. He would pull the extra skin off (without warning!) and clean them up with peroxide (OUCH!) and tell me "That's a good sign of hard work". Day after day I would practice with blisters on top of blisters and my hands would often bleed from the ripped skin. If I complained to my Dad he would simply tell me "The only thing that will make it better is to keep going." I thought he was crazy and wondered how much longer it would take to expose the bones in my hands, but I didn't quit. I never got any sympathy from my Dad, but he was always there to push me to continue to work hard, even when it hurt. His "encouragements" were usually loud and often harsh, but I knew he just wanted me to give it all I had.


I never became an Olympic gymnast and I can no longer do most of the things I worked so hard to learn, but I have no regrets. I learned so much about life from my father's tough, pitiless, unrelenting influence through those couple of years.


And he was right about the blisters. The skin became thicker and tougher the harder I worked. Soon the blisters and bleeding were gone and I could focus on doing my best routine knowing that I was well prepared.


Sometimes when we try to do something new we get discouraged by the callus's of life. We think that if something is uncomfortable we should give up and go back to our old ways. We think that life should be easy and success should come often, but that's not usually how it works.


My days of working towards winning a metal to hang around my neck or a trophy to carry in my hand are long gone, but I am still using those same lessons in my walk towards the ultimate prize. I know that following Jesus won't always be easy. There will be resistance from the outside and resistance from within. There will be days when it seems too tough to continue and still the blisters keep coming. There will be times when I want to take the easy way out and compromise my beliefs. And there will be moments when I feel like nobody cares and I'm in it all alone.




But I know that Jesus is always by my side - even though I can't see Him. And I know that the tough times are making me stronger and the temptations are opportunities to grow closer in my faith. I realize that I can NEVER win the perfect prize of Heaven no matter how hard I try and that it's only by God's Grace that I will one day find myself standing in His presence. The prize has already been won for each and every one of us through His ultimate sacrifice. His hands were pierced for me. The least I can do is endure a few blisters working for Him.