One of the (many) reasons I love South Dakota is that we have well-marked, “in your face” seasons.

When we have cold girlfriends we have COLD. We’re close to the Canadian border so sub-zero temps aren’t uncommon during the winter months. Just yesterday chilly, blue clouds dropped four inches of nickel-sized fluff. It. Was. Beautiful.

A South Dakota summer can humble winter into complete submission with occasional triple digits. We simply turn on the AC and pour a tall lemonade.

Seasons are good. One season makes us appreciate the next. The older I get the more I’m learning to apply that truth to other facets of life.

A person doesn’t have to live long to become versed in seasons of hard. Some of us our born into it, for others it comes later.

Regardless, the truth is——–Life can be hard.

Sometimes the hard qualifies as slaying dragons.
• Cancer.
• Unemployment.
• Addiction.
• Abuse.

All of the above are dragons indeed. But hard is a chameleon. It moves, morphs and manifests itself in many ways. It doesn’t have to be battle with a dragon. It can be something as “simple” as Chinese water torture. The constant drip of tiny-hard that stretches our sanity and jilts our joy.
• Chronic
• Cramped.
• Unattended.
• Misunderstood.

I’m not sure what kind of hard you’re facing today but may I share a secret? It’s a queer discovery that, believe it or not, occasionally finds me wondering during an easy season if I wouldn’t rather have hard. (Before you pitch this post across the room keep reading.)

The deep waters of hard teach me to float.

There’s a reason someone coined the phrase “drowning in tears”. It never mattered whether I cried a river or an ocean—they both served as reminders that I wished I’d taken more swimming lessons.

Turns out that was never the point.

God never intended for HARD to improve our backstroke or butterfly.

He only wants us to float.

Floating is a funny thing. It requires next-to-nothing on our part. Nothing except for being still and breathing. (For the record… I stink at both those things.)

Which brings me full-circle to seasons. When life is going pretty smoothly there are moments I pause and remember what it’s like to float.

I recall how it feels to KNOW I can do nothing. I can only rely on Him.

And I miss it.

I miss Him.

I miss the intimacy inherent in being still and breathing.

Friend, if you are in a season of hard right now I don’t want to minimize it. And I would never tell you to embrace it (talk about salt in the wound).

But if I could tell you one thing it would be this:

He’s got you.

He’s got this.

He really, really does.

Breathe Him in.

Rest in the knowledge that your tears are only creating a pool in which you can rest in His sovereignty and sufficiency.

Could I close with this prayer for you?

“Jesus, There are seasons of hard that feel like a rising waterline. We’re on our toes gasping for what we’re certain is our last breath and we never think to stop fighting——–stop trying, and simply float. Reassure us with your tender Spirit that it will be OK. Remind us that you’re in the deep and you’re using it to call us and even more to carry us.”

“As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, my God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When can I go and meet with God? My tears have been my food day and night… Psalm 42:1-3

Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls; all your waves and breakers have swept over me. By day the LORD directs his love, at night his song is with me— a prayer to the God of my life. Psalm 42:7-8

Your DoAhead Friend,

Cindy