Effort

And so we press on, doing what we can with what we have... And sometimes, our very best isn't good enough... we look, we assess, we prod, we investigate, we do our due diligence, we offer, we open up, we say what overflows from the heart... sometimes it's not enough, sometimes it's TMI, sometimes we want it back. The best is unfiltered, unmeasured, uncalibrated... sometimes we feel stupid about the effort put forth, maybe the timing was wrong, maybe we totally missed with our assumptions, maybe our attempts at comfort, or support or encouragement or humor, were way off the mark... Awkward silence, dumbfounded looks...
We can only do what we can do, and we only come equipped with so many gifts. We can study, and listen, and absorb and hone and try to get better. It seems as if our gifts only get sharper, and we can't quite get all those rough edges smooth. There is nothing grand in defeat, especially at the moment of its arrival. Mumbled words, shrugged shoulders, mouthing of platitudes... it didn't end like this at all, when I pictured this in my mind. The mental rehearsal went flawlessly, every word was well received, everything fell into place, the tears were dried, the crisis averted... but now, well, this is just too bad.
And just because success was not ours, does not mean failure. Because the end result was not for what we had hoped, does not mean total, final failure. Even the sting of the moment sews some hope for the future. We do not feel that there may be hope, but that does not mean there is none present, or germinating... who knows what oaks of triumph lie waiting in the acorns scattered at our feet. Tears stinging at our cheeks, the pummeling of the speed bag within our chest does not tap out messages of joy and celebration - but does that vital muscle within us, that barometer of our soul, take from the smoldering ashes around us, and fertilze the ground secure in the knowledge that a spring of rain and summer's warmth is all that it will take to push forth a harvest of plenty, someday down the road.
The sting is real... the quiet is deafening. Doing our best is what we should do, what we must do, what need to do, have to do, cannot allow ourselves to do anything but... and too often short term results are the only measure that we take. Instant gratification is the crack cocaine of our culture. If it were all easy, we'd never get better at anything. Would celebration be all that precious if that is all we ever did. From the ashes of defeat, pain and loss, we have to know that the only loss that is ever final, is when there is the loss of hope.