MOZ BLOG

Imagine me on the pulpit.

Brothers and Sisters, I felt impressed to come up here and speak to you today, and I pray that my words will reach the hearts of those who need to hear them most. This week I have come face-to-face with a unique challenge: the shovel.

My baby brother has been living with me for almost two years now, and it really has been a blast. I’ve lived with some truly terrible roommates, so imagine my surprise when I get along great with the guy who used to flush my toys down the toilet! Over the last two years our gate has had a real finicky latch. Due to the great velocity with which the gate has been opened and closed, the latch has completely liberated itself, and now lives in a rusty pile of loose bolts, in the exact spot it landed, seven or eight days ago.

I suggested to Sammy that we borrow some gorilla glue from our father to fill the holes and shove the bolts back in, at least holding the latch in place until we could get it fixed the right way. I was informed that this was just a band-aid, and that gorilla glue was a BAD idea. So, instead, Sam has been using The Shovel, to hold the gate closed. If gorilla glue is a band-aid, I truly do not understand what that makes the shovel, but I refuse to ask.

Every morning before 0600, I’m pushing my 50lb suitcase of IOM equipment out the front door, down the front steps, and then I come to the gate, and the stupid fucking shovel. I reach over and around my bag trying to get to the gate from my narrow vantage point, grab the handle of the shovel and knock it down so that the gate can swing freely, then I pick up my equipment, walk over the shovel and out the gate, load the equipment up into my car, and then I have to go back to gate, pick up the shovel and, prop it back up BEHIND the gate, to hold it closed. It is incredibly inconvenient and it has been driving me absolutely nuts!!! How is this easier than gorilla glue?!

Yesterday, I finally cracked. He was sitting outside when I got home, and I made some snide comment about how much easier it is to get through the gate when I don’t have to pick up my 50lb bag and carry it over the shovel. This is the part where I become truly dumbfounded… He asks me “Why, for any reason, would you choose to pick up the 50lb bag instead of the shovel?”.

The thought had not once occurred to me.

He walked over to the gate and he grabbed the shovel. He said to me “Everyday you come over here, and you grab the shovel, and then you… throw it here on the ground… right where you need to walk? And then… you choose… to pick up your bag and walk over the shovel, that you just put there?”. Yes. That is exactly what I was doing. Choosing, to make my life harder than it needed to be.

I believe that we are meant to be challenged in this life, but sometimes, we are the challenger.

I’ve often pondered this question, and I’ve brought it up to those in my life that have chronic pain: If you could poof-magic-wish the pain away, would you? It’s not a wasted wish, you couldn’t have used it for anything else. You would still feel the pain of an injury, but the chronic pain, the pain you live with everyday, could be gone forever, if only you said yes. What do you do?

Most days I would tell you that the pain is more than bearable. I could easily live with this amount of pain indefinitely. In fact, some days, it’s almost kind of nice. Like the sore burn of overexerted muscles, a warm ache that wraps all around you. A thick wool blanket. But, some days, it’s unfathomable. To go on living like that is terrifying. So maybe I would, maybe I would accept my freedom, and I would live a happier, healthier, more active, more fulfilling life. Or, maybe I would miss it. Maybe I need it. Maybe I’d find 100 other roadblocks to slow me down, challenge me.

Maybe I’d pick up the shovel.