The holidays give us cause for reflection on a great many things: who we are thankful for, what we are thankful for, the vast differences between human wants and human needs, etc. For some of us it is also a time to remember those who cannot be here with us.

The only time I ever remember my mother’s mom (Nana) tell me that she loved me was at Christmas. This could be for a whole host of reasons and I have no real feeling on this one way or the other. I give her the benefit of the doubt as to her reasons for this. If she were still alive I would ask her out of nothing more than curiosity’s sake. I expect she would answer me honestly.

Nana had a saying, “This too shall pass.” She did not live a life full of roses and sunshine. She had her faith and a loyalty to her commitments that kept her glued to a reality that could be very cruel to her. She had to live with hard twists of fate and decisions I will probably never understand. To her credit I do not remember her as a complainer. I will never understand her. I live too fortunate of a life. She was a hardy breed of woman. The older I get, the more I can admire her for many things. The older I get I also wish she were here to ask “why” as I struggle to grasp some of her choices that I still find hard to reconcile with.

I think of her often. When times are good and when times are bad, I hear her wisdom, “This too shall pass.” She reminds me to seize opportunity, strive for a life spent in the moment, keep “disaster” in perspective and, ironically enough, remain obstinate.

“This too shall pass” can come off as cynical, even fatalistic. It can be embraced by the gypsy and the con-artist as much as the care-taker and the realist. It is a tool, and it’s worth is determined solely by the person who wields it. For me, “this too shall pass” is the business card of perseverance.

I can weather any storm. I can bear any burden. I can walk through any hell. I can live unafraid of change or failure. I can love unconditionally. I can live life with a full heart. I can apologize and accept apology. I can embrace the privilege of my pain and accept the consequences, seen and unforeseen, of my actions. Indeed, I can even choose pain over comfort for the sake of personal evolution. I can hold fast to my convictions and strive to understand the convictions of others. I can get up again and again and again every time I fall short, into perpetuity.

The temporary nature of this life has given me the strength to understand who I am. Nana gave me this tool. My parents, however, taught me how to wield it. To my family I am forever thankful for who I am today. I credit my upbringing with all my successes and none of my failures. Ultimately, it’s our decision not only to recognize what we have, but what we do with it. Into perpetuity.

See ya at the box,
Coach C.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *