In all my years of living, I have come to arrive at this one discovery: I am more tired from being outright lazy to do absolutely nothing than when I am up and moving trying to accomplish something. What is even more interesting to admit to is the end game of both is time lost either way, with only one guaranteeing opportunities surely missed.
Do we not sacrifice in fear to suffer?
Suffering may come with sacrifice, but at least action takes place in making sacrifices to meet a goal or pursue a destiny. Why suffer over and over without forward action for change if in your power of control?
I have heard people say in my life that work is tiring. I get this. No doubt. I’m a mother of five, middle school math teacher, and mind, heart, body, and spirit partner and friend to my husband of over thirty years- I’m counting in on an uninterrupted nap sometime in my future. Yet, when invested in the “work”, is being tired not okay in its inevitableness?
I mean, if suffering from what you are doing, what are you doing to end such suffering?
I graduated from a high school with remarkable tradition; one where we prided over having a gate to separate us from our rival school at football games. Guys exchanging innocent trash-talk across the gate would feed any competitive spirit, whether young, an alumnus, or simply a supporting family choosing a side to root on for the game.
Whenever we found ourselves ahead of the other team, confidence and heightened spirits were evident throughout our side. Our rival team, clearly showing dislike for our scoring advantage, made this always the best time to chant the cheer:
“You have an A-TT-ITUDE!” (x3)
This level of competition was pure, and innocent fun to push the players to have something to work for to the end. Whether the football players were suffering from the tackles, running, and fumbles, the sacrifice to win for a competitive team was always bigger than any pain endured or even acknowledged.
If suffering equates to pain, is it not the attitude that diminishes or ignores pain to either defeat or glory? Either way, when making sacrifice, would not pain be anticipated, lose or win?
Attitude may not always coincide with willpower. Still, isn’t the mindset to overcoming obstacles through sacrifice, whatever need be finished, regardless of any suffering, the key to getting anything accomplished regardless?
My years in college were reflective of great sacrifice that overcame any acknowledged suffering that came along.
Our oldest brother had direction to get into college here in America at our arrival. Sadly, to his still disappointment from the last time he confided in me, not ever pursuing college to finish what he started at such a young age (sixteen back in our native country) was a sure regret. If it had not been my parents listening to all those family members telling them it would be best for our oldest to go to the military instead, college not giving him any opportunity to do anything with it if he were to finish, he would not have succumbed to just being a postman.
While respectful titles, sometimes buying into other’s forewarns of unnecessary suffering instead of taking chances at greatest sacrifice is the most difficult piece to admit to once the opportunity and time have long been lost.
Being the youngest of five, I found myself silently having to find my way through school from the first time I discovered that Mama had been too late to apply for my hot lunch meals in junior high. From that point on, I sensed finding my way through school without being a burden to my parents was on me- lunches, school clothes, supplies, sometimes, transportation, and all.
It is to no one’s full capacity to understand that by the time I was nearly graduating from high school, president of my academy, co-captain of our high school cheerleading team, leading role in our Mock Trial team, to name my greatest memories, that while only months prior to speaking on behalf of my graduating senior class, I truly had no idea (I ignorantly thought straight-A students were the only ones secretly approached) of the many scholarships and grants available out there. Hard to believe, I must have defensively erased or buried the thought of knowing about scholarships thinking none pertained a chance for me.
My silent suffering of feeling that there would be nothing after high school to follow made me achingly anxious to face whatever sacrifice I needed to make to get to go to college like all my surrounding peers. The classrooms I found myself in were complete with not just great minds, but those seemingly having all the means to pursue their education. I sat in silence just wanting the last months to slow down so I could have time to catch up- whatever that will have meant once I felt I got there.
My quiet suffering in fearing immobility after high school was making me hunger for great sacrifice.
If it had not been for my husband who had attended his first two years in a two-year college prior to transferring to a four-year university, I would not have ever known of such opportunity. It took just that- to follow his direction. And although he would be following under the Computer Science path, with his help, I knew Psychology would be mine. And when I discovered that I could simultaneously work toward a Teacher’s Certificate, there was never a second thought to pursue the two together.
I had silently suffered in my ignorance long enough. The sacrifices, no matter what, would win over with my desire to finish whatever I was given the opportunity to start.
The greatest blessing of all was that I came into my first year in college expecting our first child. The plan of having a child was just a stance to be clear that my husband-to-be and I were going to do life our way from early on. Interestingly, as others may have thought such predicament would, the expectancy of having a child never stopped nor derailed me; I only became more determined to further pursue what I had started. I now had more purpose than just me going to school. I had my child inside as my greatest push for me to overcome whatever would be ahead.
At the time of birth, I peacefully took one quarter off to focus on loving and nurturing our firstborn, somewhat instinctive, as a mother, to have the first months fundamentally structured and scheduled to surround our first child’s needs.
Lack of sleep and recalling how I cried on the floor with the brightest lights on in the kitchen upon discovering our son getting jaundice and being told he would need exposure to light, with heavy cold temperatures outside, I humbly admit there were moments of suffering then. However, even when I only knew to just sit there on that kitchen floor to hold him and quietly cry, fearful I would do all the wrong things to help him or one time waking my husband with my quiet sobbing because our son was wide awake in the middle of the night as I only wished for him to go back to sleep, my sacrifice to be a great mother never acknowledged any suffering to be unbearable.
A homebody, truly embracing final silence in my life with just my son as my husband worked weekends while competing in college wrestling as he worked toward finishing his degree, there was nothing outside of the confines of our apartment I wanted to take part in. I needed nothing else. Other than my husband and my son, I had no friend in this world. I seeked for no one outside my home as to me, all I needed was all I already had.
Enjoying my structure and peace, I knew the time off from school would soon come to an end. I knew I had to return back to school just as soon as the next school year would start. My heart, mind, body, and spirit would have to suffer again, but the purpose of my sacrifice was always bigger.
I had already dropped my weight fast (I filled my day scheduling feeding time for my son between my workouts) by the time I returned to school, more slender than I had ever been in high school. What I could control, I controlled to my satisfaction.
My commitment to perfect my days with my school schedule while away from my son was within my control. Surrendering to having our son cared for by a child care facility near the college campus required any strength I had throughout the day to not ache for my child.
With one car and not yet having the license to drive (I received my actual driver’s license at the age of 23), I would have to keep my mind busy throughout moments without my son as I would patiently wait for the day to end and my husband to get me before picking up our child. Everyday, I quietly suffered inside the loneliness while at school. My classroom engagements were only led by the cuing in of a professor. My answers or contributions to discussions mostly coming from intuition rather than readings.
Even as I write this I cannot explain the separation anxiety I had in not being able to be by my son every moment of his life during that time. I silently ached beyond measure to be with him. Because I could not drive, I could not go and see him between classes. I would hit the college gym and go at high pace on the elliptical or bicycle (I believe the screen would average at 82rpm at level 13 on the elliptical) for 45 minutes each day, adding the same amount of time with weights, to get my mind off of my son, trying to tire out my pain and anguish of not being able to see him.
I could not read any contents at school I should have to be at best in my classes. I worked out instead, every chance I could, while on campus. Once at home, I had no desire to do any school work or studying. I was gladly making up for lost time with my son by simply laying next to him, smelling his skin and hearing his breathing.
My husband and I were taking one day at a time as parents and my heart, mind, body, and spirit wanted to be nowhere else, but home, next to my child. I quietly knew and upheld my part in the sacrifice, knowing I had to finish for all of us.
My grades were going down, I could tell, but I had no desire to do more than simply getting As where I easily could and averaging out the rest. I cared less and less to get another academic recognition.
Around this time I laughingly found myself being able to fit into my six years-old nephew’s shorts upon visiting and needing to change into something. However, I took note that it was not only I who was losing weight. My son, too, was losing his plumpness. As if I needed to quietly worry more, this noticing put me in greater distress.
I recall telling my husband to meet me at the child care facility as I would be doing a surprise visit one day before our scheduled time to pick up our son. I walked to the facility, not wanting to wait for my husband’s arrival.
I saw my son at a table with other children. This made me smile as I could see him peaceful and well-mannered. And then, I saw that he was raising his hand- for a cracker. Why raise your hand for a cracker, my love? I thought to myself. Why not get as many as you would like? I stood there, hurting. I knew I could bare no such image of my son in memory.
I shared this with my husband, trying not to over-exaggerate my hurt as a mother that evening. Even at this early stage of our togetherness, I knew that no matter how much I tried to ease my expressions of concern, seeing me troubled caused silent troubles for my husband. He told me not to worry and all would be just fine.
One day, not to my knowing, my husband took it upon himself to drive over to my parents’ home to directly talk to my mother. I don’t know what he said, but he mentioned later that he had explained to her that in able to finish, we would need their support.
The best news I got was that my mom would be taking care of our son while I was at school starting the next quarter. The only thing that instantly dawned to me was that we would have only one car, all three of us needing to be in different locations, different cities, each day, far distance from one another.
I never questioned my husband’s plans, however. Now with my parents on board, I was determined to make everything work just as much as my husband believed it would. The sacrifice continued without hesitation.
My husband dropped me off to school, drove twenty minutes north to drop off our son to my parents’ home before proceeding to drive himself back to his university, 45-50 minutes south. He would do this in the morning only to get me at the end of my day before we returned back to my parents’ home to get our son. We had scheduled our classes accordingly to make this work.
Whether either of us suffered from the daily juggle, neither of us ever uttered a word of complaint. The purpose for our sacrifice was always bigger than any suffering quietly endured by either of us.
There was never a time where I recall ever taking those times for granted with my parents watching our son. By the time we had moved to a rental home so I could finish closer to the university I had transferred to and my husband was well into practicing his computer science degree as a software engineer, I just recall always looking forward to being back home with my husband and child. It didn’t take long for my weight to readjust. Pieces of me no longer felt to be missing. I was whole again.
Perhaps always driven and believing to achieve more all at one time, it didn’t surprise me in looking back that even before I graduated four years from my start in college that I would add another child before the finish. I felt my suffering, if any, were not acknowledged at any of those times. I saw only more time for greater sacrifice.
Summer classes are not highly favored for who wants to find themselves right back in classrooms while all are out laying blankets on green grass or sandy beaches to bask in the sun? However, to get my teacher’s degree and Bachelor’s degree at the same time, I knew I would give myself no choice. I wanted to be done with both. I made time and money both my nemesis to try and challenge me head on. Victory was going to be my trophy. I would not think that time and money would be at my loss. The sooner I finished, the faster I would get to my end goal.
I did that- I finished- by understanding the sacrifice while ignoring any suffering.
I have attacked moments with all my might to just get through it with the best attitude possible. Sometimes, even when the attitude is not at best, my only standing determination is to still finish.
I look back now, as I usually do once victorious of yet another challenge, and think to myself, Those were greatest moments of hurt and pain. Still, beyond the suffering, the purpose for the sacrifice overcame all the difficulties. If there was suffering (for surely, there were), it didn’t stop the purpose.
Suffering is real, but it need not be spoken when there is purpose for the endurance. Sacrifice is the answer to making sense of why we suffer.
There are those out there who may well just suffer without sacrifice.
Why?
