You CAN Do Hard Things

Even When Your Mind Tells You It’s Impossible

Recently my family and I took a trip to Michigan. On the way to our final destination spot, we stopped at the Sleeping Bear Dunes National Park. First, if you haven’t been there, I highly recommend it. It is like nothing I have ever seen or experienced before. 

Against the Park Ranger’s recommendation, we decided to take our three littles down a very steep grade dune. The fine was $3000 if they had to send out a helicopter rescue team to come get us. It was probably about the length of three football fields, but at the bottom rested the beautiful, crystal-clear-water shoreline. 

Going down the dune was easy. Every step we took, our feet slid an extra two feet. We made it to the bottom in under fifteen minutes. The little kids included. The water was amazing. Beautiful. Clear. Emerald. Gentle. 

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We took tons of pictures and then decided it was time to start the uphill journey back to the car. 

My sister-in-law looked at three of my little girls and said, “Okay, girls. Today we are going to teach you a lesson. Repeat after me. I can do hard things.” 

I looked at her and smiled. One of our coaches at the gym says this all the time. And it is so true too. We are made to do hard things. Our bodies can withstand more than we can even imagine or give it the opportunity to do. 

My girls glanced at their aunt and bent over to pick the sand up into their hands and repeated the mantra, “I can do hard things.” 

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My middle child took off up the hill. My sister-in-law, along with two of her kids, headed up with her. My middle girl weighs less than fifty pounds so the sand wasn’t a problem for her as she tackled the terrain. She handled it like a champ. She made it all the way up on her own. She was fierce and strong, and more importantly, determined to get there. She proved that she can do hard things. 

Our youngest daughter, who is almost three years old, wanted nothing to do with climbing. She had zero interest in doing it herself. So my husband, who was the superhero of the day, bear crawled with her on his hip the entire climb back up. 

Now mind you, she weighs less than the middle child, but here’s the problem on the ascent; just like on the way down, every step you take, you slide about another foot down. The same is true no matter what direction you are traveling. So when you take a step up, you slide down. So carrying a two year old on the hip (because she refused to get on his back for a piggy back ride), was exhausting. But he did it. You know why he did it? Because our bodies are made to do hard things. 

My five year old however was a different story. The moment we told her she can do hard things, she wasn’t convinced. She was not interested in climbing at all. But I wasn’t able to carry her, nor was I willing to try, because I know that she can do hard things. 

Our bodies are made to do hard things, our minds however, are a funny thing. They can tell us we can do it, or they can convince us otherwise. Her mind was made up, she declared she couldn’t do it. About five feet into the climb she sat down and started crying hysterically. 

I had a choice at this moment; I could get annoyed with her, or I could be the cheerleader she needed me to be. I wanted to get to the top. I didn’t want to spend the $3000 for the rescue, and I was covered in sand and fairly sweaty myself. So I took a deep breath and told myself that I can do hard things. 

I decided that no matter what fit she had, I was going to love her and encourage her. I was going to coach her through her first ever difficult mountain to climb. I was going to take one step at a time with her, love her the entire way, cheer her the entire way, and teach her just how amazing she is and what she is truly capable of. Because she can do hard things, just like me. 

My brother-in-law suggested to count steps and breaths to get her thinking about something else, so at first we talked about taking ten steps then stopping for three breaths. This worked for her for about fifty yards of the climb. She was able to execute a process. She counted to ten, then stopped to breathe. 

But then she looked up and saw how much further she had to travel and the agony and discomfort came back. 

Can you relate to this? Have you ever had your own mountain to climb and then looked up and saw that you hadn’t made it very far at all and the road ahead was only going to get tougher? 

So she did what any normal five year old would do, (and grown up for that matter) she sat down and cried. So I sat down with her. She looked at me with her alligator tears and said, “Mommy, I need a hug.”

So I hugged her. Then we just sat there and looked at the beauty of the view. It was amazing. She slowly started to calm down. Then she asked me if I could say a prayer. Isn’t it funny how in the midst of her most difficult life challenge up to this point, when she was finally able to sit down for a minute and feel my comfort, she then remembered she could call on God for an even greater comfort and strength? There is a lesson in that for all of us, myself included. 

So I prayed. “Lord God, thank you for this rare opportunity. Thank you for teaching us just how amazing our bodies are and how much we can truly do. Lord, thank you for this beautiful moment; the sky, the water, the flowers, the sand, it is all so beautiful and completely made by you. God, I just want to lift up sweet Isabella to you right now. I pray that you help her dig deep and find the strength and courage to tackle this mountain before her. I pray that she believes in herself to go after it because she knows you will carry her. She is strong and she is tough God, so thank you for this amazing little girl. In Jesus name we pray, Amen.” 

She looked at me as her final tear rolled down her face and said, “I am strong. I am tough.”

“Yes you are baby girl. You can do this. You can do hard things.”

So we turned and looked up at the road ahead and she said to herself, “I am strong, I am tough,” and she began to climb again. 

The climb was still difficult. She still had to stop every few steps to cry or blow her nose. But I kept beside her, the entire time telling her that she is strong and tough. When it got tough, she yelled as loud as she could, “I am strong. I am tough.” And her feet got lighter and quicker up the hill.

And you know what? She made it all the way to the top. She did it. She was so strong and so tough. She proved to herself that she can do hard things. 

She was emotional and tired when she got to the top. She declared to anyone who would listen that she was never doing that again. 

But you and I know just how untrue that statement is, huh? We all have mountains to climb in life. We all have to tackle rough terrains all the time. 

But we can do hard things. We can do it. God didn’t make us to be weak, He gave us a body and mind capable of doing phenomenal things. He didn’t mess up when He made us. He made us to be strong and tough, because there are a lot of mountains in the world that we need to climb. 

Such a valuable lesson at age five though. When I was putting her to bed that night, she saw her shadow on the wall, and she put her arms in the air like she was flexing her muscles, and said, “Mommy, look how strong I am!” 

“Yes you are baby girl.”

Building Community:

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What is a tough mountain you had to climb in your life? How did you find the strength to get through it?