We see princesses and we see queens, and we forget there is anything in between.
I’ve carried this thought with me all day today, letting it dance with varied facets of my life.
It looks like it must be great to be the queen. But, I wonder, do we really know how she got there? Do we know about the times she has ached as she watched her people in anguish? Or the times she has had to set her certainty, and her security, and her safety aside as she put her people before those comforts? Do we know about the times she has had to stand tall, strong, and unwavering on the decision that if it cost her life so be it? Or the times she has had to watch as her own mistakes have caused suffering to her people?
We see her stand tall when we want to crumble…. do we know about the times she crumbled and it cost her dearly?
She is fearless and fierce, facing an opponent who could crush her….do we recognize the times she shook, and she buckled, and she backed down, and she hated herself for doing so?
A queen is not born she is made. She is made in the fire. And in the storm. In the winter. And in the desert. She is made.
Her power, her poise, her elegance, the reverential respect she commands – it’s the evidence of a long and, likely, brutal journey.
I’m neither royal born nor on a path to ruling a great kingdom.
But I’m on many journeys. And I’m certain there is a lesson here for me.
Like in running:
I have speed goals. I have distance goals. I have weekly miles goals. And I have dreams – wild, crazy, audacious dreams.
I’m going to take a few minutes today to own the fact that someday in the future, when I meet those goals, it won’t be because I went out that day and earned that personal best. It will be because I went out today… And I put in the hard work today… And I learned lessons, and I was miserable, and I grew today. It will be the obnoxiously hard work I do today that will deliver me straight to the door of that personal best.
Or in personal growth:
I’m 37. I’m tired of worrying about who and what everyone else thinks I should be. I’ve played that game for a long time. Let’s face it, I’m kinda burned out and I never was that good at it.
It’s obnoxiously hard work…. Throwing off expectations, standing anywhere but where it’s comfortable, digging deep to unearth my own strength. It’s terrifying, it’s uncertain, it’s risky, and it’s hard.
If I ever get to a point in this journey where it begins to look on the outside like I’ve reached a destination, and it appears I’m standing there stately, shining in my discovered strength, and my acquired grace, and my earned valor I hope it is just as apparent that without today, and all of its breaks and bruises, I would not be standing there at all.