21 May Life Will Take Care of That
Several years ago, we were staying near the Grand Canyon in what was advertised as “glamorous camping.” What sold me was the promise of showers with warm water. Rustic, I can do. Cold showers, I am less fond of.
We were getting ready for the day, inside our tent, with its own bathroom. I stood just outside the shower with towels, keeping the girls moving. Ella stuck her hand into the water and pulled it back. “It’s cold.”
“It will warm up a little,” I said. “It’s not going to be the same as home. Just go really fast. Wash your hair and get out.”
They hesitated as I nudged them in, squealing, “It’s freezing!”
I could hear it in their voices right away, that sharp inhale, the scramble to get through it. They came out shivering, hair half-washed, looking at me wide-eyed.
“You did it,” I said, wrapping them up.
In that moment, I believed I was doing something useful. Letting them feel something uncomfortable. Teaching them they could handle it. That you don’t stop just because something feels hard.
Then it was my turn.
The water was shockingly cold, the kind that makes your body pull back before you can think, like melted snow hitting your scalp. I lasted only a few seconds before stepping back out, eyes watering, suddenly aware that I hadn’t understood what I was asking of them.
I wrapped myself in a towel and reached for them. “I’m so sorry,” I said. “I made a mistake. That water is way too cold to shower in.”
They leaned in without hesitation, their bodies folding right into mine.
Standing there together, dripping and half-washed, I realized something. Life is going to hand them plenty of moments that are hard, the kind that catch them off guard and don’t give them time to prepare. It does that on its own.
I don’t need to get there first.
What feels more important is showing them something else. What can be easy, or at least easier with practice.
That you can say, “I got that wrong.”
That you can say, “This is really hard.”
And that you don’t have to stay in it alone.
I still believe in letting them stretch, in not rushing in to fix everything, but I’m paying more attention to that line between letting life be hard and making it harder than it needs to be.
Life will teach them that it’s hard.
I want them to know they can say so, and reach for someone when it is.