As I stared at my blank Word Document, a shiver of anxiety ran down my spine. I took a breath, reminded myself what I wanted to say, and then positioned my fingers on the keys, poised and ready to type, but it wouldn’t flow. The magic was gone. I kicked myself for feeling this way, for allowing this to hold me back, but it was.
I reciently applied for a job that I thought was my dream job and was rejected. It was strange how it affected me. I had been rejected many times before in my life, but this one felt different. Maybe it was because the stakes were so high. Maybe it was because I had imagined it to be something more than it was. Maybe it was because I told a few people about the job and now had to face them with the rejection. Whatever it was, it shook my confidence.
I stared at my computer and thought about how could I call myself a writer and be rejected. Then the words of my dad came back. The best writers in history have been rejected hundreds of times before finally making it. Every writer gets rejected, it’s part of writing. In fact, I cannot call myself a writer and not get rejected at least once, but more likely hundreds of times.
I stumbled across the keyboard and struggled to write a couple pieces for some pregnancy sites. I found myself scrutinizing my work like I had never done before. I questioned if my tone was good enough, if my word count was sufficient, if my message was clear and relatable. I didn’t feel good about any of it. Even now, I’ve rewritten this a few times. Being rejected maybe a badge of honor among writers, but it had changed me. Normally I type and the thoughts pour out, the words flow, and it all comes together like a stream to a river. Now I struggle with the flow. But the beauty of it is, it has made me think differently and become a better writer (I hope).
It’s funny how the things that are so painful in life are the things that make us better. When I work out, I often feel sore and tired the next day, but as I continued the process, I find that I am capable of more than I was previously.
The painful makes the positive sweeter. It’s like eating chocolate ice cream after drinking lemonade. The Lemonade was sour, but the ice cream tastes so much sweeter. Without the hard and the bad, the good things don’t stand out as much.
Sometimes an experience is just an experience. I was talking to my mom about it. I told her that I was sure something was going to come of this, that this was meant to happen for a reason. My mom softly said “Sometimes an experience is just that, an experience. It’s just meant to teach us something. It doesn’t have to lead to something more.” She’s right. This may turn into a huge turning point for my life, but it could also just be an event that taught me a lesson to use in my life. Either way, they both are good.
Hardships are hard (I guess that’s why they’re called hardships), but the best thing about them is what we gain from them. Sometimes it feels like we have more than our fair share of hardships, like we could give some of ours to our neighbors to help them out (or maybe just ourselves). But these things are for our benefit, even if it seems like a cruel joke from the universe at the time.
The place that I find peace in my hardships is knowing that Heavenly Father doesn’t set us up for failure, along with the fact that He had a plan for me. He loves me and wants what is best for me, even if it hurts for a while.
How do you find peace in hardships?