to my future children: motivation

One of the few perks to packing and unpacking is the discovery of things you've forgotten about. When I was hastily packing last week, I threw in a journal randomly into a suitcase thinking it was empty - I actually nearly threw it away. In fact, I thought it was still empty when my mom handed it to me while unpacking. Instead, she said "No it's got stuff in it. I'll just put it in your room to go over." 

The following is what the first few pages say:

January 14th, 2014

To my future children:

Motivation is a funny thing. It can be a number of different things I've come to find. Yesterday, your grandmother told me my resolve and patience were being chipped away. Chipped away would be an understatement. Maybe if you could see it was being done with a battle ax it'd be more accurate. But it's true, sadly. Resolve, patience, but not my motivation. 

No, my motivation is still there because they way I see it, if I were to die now - or a loved one died and everyone could see my life where it is today, I would be royally pissed off. 

All my life I've played by the rules, and for the most part, I don't see that they've done me much good. No job, no money, no love of my life, no defining moment. There are people I know that appear to have it all at my age - and it is punch you in the nose, spit in your eye aggravating 99% of the time. Especially when you see that they rarely play by the conventional rules of life. But - they are my motivation. 

The cliche phrase that I've hopefully told you many times that constantly runs through my mind, "God never puts you through more than you can handle" applies. For when I think that after a loved one dies, or a cancer diagnosis has been given, having a job snatched from your hands three times in six months - I feel stronger. Sure, I cuss a lot, cry a lot, blame things on God a lot (which to an extent, I'm fairly certain he won't judge you for this - but I'm not the Almighty), and envision breaking things a lot - but it motivates me. And when I picture looking back on that time a year from now, two months from now even, I can see that I was strong enough. 

It's like driving through the mountains. You have a steep incline, dips, twists and turns where you have no idea what will be around the corner, scary patches, and then a glorious view at the top. From the top you can see the beauty of all that is around you. You'll see the other mountains - signs that your happy won't always be happy, but also that your bad won't always be bad. 

Whenever the truly awful happens, I'm reminded of the unending goodness this world can give. I don't often see tragedy - instead I see families, and friendships. Laughter and tears. Light and hope. Those are what prove to the darkness that it cannot always stay dark forever. 

By the time you read this letter, and I do so hope you get the chance to because I am so looking forward to my unbelievably happy time of meeting your father. Falling in love with him, promising to spend the rest of our lives together, creating life - to watch you grow to be a true likeness of our love and kindness, I hope that you'll understand that I've also had many sad days as well. But this is my motivation. Part of the bad is knowing at some point it will be good. And when it's good, it will be so so good.  

So, whether you're at the top when you read this, or in your valley, just remember that life is the biggest and best challenge, always there to test your faith, resolve, patience, and motivation. 

Winning (no matter how that may look to others), is my motivation.

(Photo courtesy of Roadtrippers)