I have a hidden talent, and you probably do too. I’m great at jumping hurdles. Now, I know what you are thinking. Hurdles?…really? I’m not talking about the Olympic track and field kind of hurdle or the obvious, tall, “better raise that back leg high” kind of hurdle. It’s the less obvious, “invisible to the naked eye” kind of hurdle that I have learned to jump pretty well in the last few years. You probably didn’t realize that those hurdles really exist, but I am here to assure you that they do.
If you have ever dealt with a loss of any kind in your life, you know and have experienced jumping these same hurdles. When Holt’s accident first happened and the reality of all that lay ahead for my family and me became obvious, my pastor told me, “Kim, you can’t look at all that is in front of you at once, you just have to jump one hurdle at a time.” His words proved to be a source of great wisdom for me from that moment until today. Hurdles now are less obvious to people around me, and they don’t often come in a row like at the beginning. But they are no less hard to jump over.
When tragedy first strikes, the overwhelming decisions that you face are the expected hurdles. You know that certain things have to be done and you just prioritize what has to be done first. Everyone’s experience with loss is not the same, so the decisions that have to be made can look different. Nevertheless, tackling the decisions, the emotions, the people, the services, and the reality of life without a loved one can knock you flat on your face. It is like jumping one hurdle after another with no room to steady yourself before you have to jump again. You lose speed so fast, it becomes harder and harder to lift your legs high enough to clear the top of the next hurdle. When one hurdle trips you up, you better look out because you cannot fully recover before the next and the next. It can bring you down, making you fall so hard that you will not want to get up again.
After you have recovered from clearing the initial hurdles, the less obvious ones begin. Every single holiday, every single season, every family gathering, every birthday, every event that reminds you of things your loved one did, and events that he or she did not get to do. Something as simple as a grocery store trip can become a hurdle because you don’t need certain items in your buggy for that person anymore. Going places you went before, seeing buildings that remind you of things you did with him or her, weekend trips, vacations, even the mundane becomes hurtful. Ordinary things for me like the absence of washing white baseball pants with clay stains or not getting simple kisses in the morning and hugs at night cause deep hurt. Every little thing is a big thing. Hearing carefree, happy stories of other people’s “normal” lives cuts like a dull blade making a typical lunch with friends into an invisible hurdle that no one can see.
It’s nobody’s fault. Very few people purposely places hurdles in the path of others. I know of very few people who would purposely want to inflict more pain on someone grieving, but sometimes people just do it without realizing. The mentality that grieving people need to “move forward and forget the past.” Funny thing about people who support this mentality, they would never want their own family members quickly forgotten. Two things that are certain in life: death and disappointment. Both must be faced like hurdles, and neither can be successfully covered up. Teaching young people how to deal with grief and disappointment is a life skill that is far more important than anything else we could ever teach them.
In the month of May, I jump more hurdles than any other month of the year. Mother’s Day, Holt’s birthday, baseball season play-offs, and high school graduation. Things that provided enjoyment and excitement for me in the past bring more pain that you can imagine now. Those hurdles, some obvious and others not so much, come one right after the other like a row of tall hurdles. Not much chance to breathe between them, so I have to take a big breath before the month starts, and hope I make it over each one.
Most days I can go through a normal day and jump a high hurdle without anybody even knowing it. I can take care of all my responsibilities and routines without a sign of fatigue. Believe me, that takes a lot of practice. Here is why I believe we learn to tackle our invisible hurdles in a hidden way. Just think about how our society views dealing with grief. We are understanding when someone takes off months from work to get used to a new baby, yet when someone experiences a death of a family member, we often urge them to get back to work and in a routine after just a few weeks. We criticize those who stay off for a long time or are absent frequently due to grief. That is so backwards to me. Dealing with grief from the loss of a family member is much harder than dealing with the celebration of adding a new one.
Hurdles. They are inevitably part of every life. Some are lower than others and much easier to get over. While many require all our energy and every ounce of our faith. Regardless of the size, remember the advice: Jump one hurdle at a time. Don’t look too far ahead at the hurdles in the distance because that will only make you feel discouraged. At the same time, don’t look back in the past for too long, either. Sometimes it’s nice to glance back at all the hurdles you have cleared in the past, but without keeping your focus on the next thing in front, you run the risk of being surprised by a hurdle that you didn’t see coming.
A little encouragement from other people also makes a big difference. Texts, cards, emails, hugs, sweet words from family and friends letting me know they are praying for me gives an extra boost to clear a series of hurdles. I believe God uses people around me as His hand to pat me on the back and His voice to whisper in my ear, “Your talent is not hidden from me. Hang in there; you are going to make it. I know jumping hurdles isn’t easy, but I promise one day, it will all be worth it.”
