because we can't hold on forever

I have never really liked my hands. My sister inherited the good hands. They're soft and smooth, long fingers with nails that grow past the point where the white actually shows and can be filed in a ladylike manner. I seem to have inherited the opposite. Even at a young age they seemed, to my eyes, like old lady hands. I got the large veins that show their blue through the skin on the back, short fingernails that break way too easily, and no amount of lotion will keep them soft and supple for long.

You would think that the four years of CrossFit they have endured would make me like them less, because now added in with what was previously mentioned are calluses and torn blisters and the scars that are still slightly visible from previous ones that have already healed.  But actually, that makes me like them a little more, because at least I can see with my eyes the work they have done.  If I can't have pretty, at least I have productive.

But there's one part, one aspect, those two extremities at the end of my arms have that I just can't seem to improve on my opinion of, how well they can hold on.

It never fails, or I guess I should say they always fail.  Sooner or later, usually sooner rather than later, they give out and let go.  All my willpower in the world cannot make them hold a bar for longer than they are able.  I have to stop and rest them, shake them out, and will them to try again.  Recently, after having a seemingly normal conversation--well a normal conversation for some of us--about grip strength and bar cycling with one of our coaches, I sat in the car staring at my battle wounds and gained a sense of understanding.  Yes, I can improve their strength, our bodies were created in an amazing way that makes grown and improvement a possibility, but I will never be able to hold on to anything forever.  I wasn't built to hold on,  I was built to be held on to.

A story I was told years ago has always stayed with me.  In the story this man's friend was on a tubing trip with his family.  As they floated contentedly down the river, his young daughter in his lap, the water's current started to quicken and before them they saw that the rapids that were usually quiet had grown fierce and wild with the recent rain.  He braced himself for the blows to come and with all his might held tightly to his daughter as they were thrown from the tube and sent into the waters.  Tumbling and turning he kept holding on until they finally reached calm waters again.  With tears streaming down her face she grinned proudly at her daddy and said I holded on, I holded on the whole time!  But he knew the truth, she wasn't safe because of her strength to hold on, she was safe because someone stronger was holding on to her, and he never let go.

It's a lesson I have learned a thousand times for sure with thousands left to go, I can't control the outcomes I can only fulfill my part.  I can't force things to happen that are not meant to be, just like I can't stop what's meant to be from happening.  I can cling and stretch and learn and grow, all good things to be sure, but eventually I'll have to let go, and when I do I can clearly see the One who is always holding on to me.  In my weakness I see His strength, in my weakness He in my makes me strong.

As I continue and practice, strength will grow in my body, but as for my Spirit, instead of learning to hold on longer, maybe the lesson should be to let go a little sooner so that I may rest in My Father who will never let go.  I'll be praying that for you, pray for me.

For do not fear for I am with you, do not be dismayed for I am your God.  I will strengthen you and help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.  Isaiah 41:10