The Uncomfortable Uphill Path to Growth

I’m sorta hoping my mom doesn’t read this post. Actually, I guess I don’t mind, but I will warn ya, Momma—I confess to some time-wasting and irresponsibility here.

One Friday evening not too long ago, I found myself in an unusual situation—my boyfriend had gone home for the weekend and all three of my roommates had plans. I was in my apartment, all by my lonesome. Strange. I was swimming in free time and didn’t know what to do with myself. At least, at first. Then it occurred to me that I hadn’t touched my violin that day (!!!) and should probably get on that.

Side note: I’m a recent college graduate with a bachelor’s degree in violin performance. I’m hoping to apply to grad schools to begin a master’s degree in the fall, and auditions are coming up in just a couple weeks. Basically, I need all the practice I can get right now.

So, with my newly developed plan in mind, I set out to… make dinner. I was hungry, okay? I can’t practice on an empty stomach. (At least, not well.) And when the leftover chicken fajitas weren’t enough, I needed something to satisfy my sugar craving. A stack of pancakes later, I was ready to walk up to the music building on campus and find a practice room.

But wait… It’s nighttime, in the middle of January, in Utah. I’m going to have to hike up the small mountain on the south end of campus in the dark and freezing cold, just to get to a private place to practice violin. And then I have the dangerous thought—my roommates are all gone! Why not practice in the apartment? (Deep down, I knew this wasn’t a very reliable plan. Traditionally, I’m much less effective when I stay home. But it was Friday night! If I couldn’t be spending time with my spunky sister, or my handsome man, or any of my friends, couldn’t I at least enjoy the luxury of wearing sweatpants while slogging through Mendelssohn??)

But then I saw the heap of dishes as I was cleaning up dinner. And smelled the sink after turning on the garbage disposal. (I won’t describe it to you. Let’s just say it was undesirable.) And I thought, how long has it been since someone cleaned the kitchen sink? Answer: too long. One little project led to another, and over an hour later, the kitchen was spotless and lemony-fresh.

After my cleaning escapades, it occurred to me that if I wanted to start recording the song I wrote (long story) like I’d planned to do later that night, then I’d better hurry! My roommates would be back soon from their group date, and I didn’t want extra noise showing up in the recording. Not to mention, I really had no desire for them to hear me singing. Unfortunately, I only had the guitar part recorded by the time they returned, but that was good enough for the time being. I sat down with the roomies and some popcorn and watched a bit of an NBA game before getting ready for bed.

And then I remembered. I hadn’t practiced violin. (Sorry, Mom.)

So why did I just recount to you in great detail what I did one mundane Friday night? (If you’ve made it this far without getting bored and quitting, congrats.) It’s because, since reflecting on that evening, I’ve realized something.

I’ve heard the phrase a thousand and one times: “I can do hard things.” It was printed in bold letters on those motivational posters on the walls of my fifth grade classroom. It’s been taught to me by church youth leaders through the years. I’ve repeated it over and over while wrestling with my biology textbook assignments and 15-page research papers. I can do hard things. Usually, I pull the phrase out of the recesses of my brain when I’m already in the middle of something hard, trying to succeed at something, or even just survive the thing. It’s my go-to when I need a little hope that I can make it to the end.

But I wonder if I should change the wording a little. Yes, I CAN do hard things, but “can” only implies an option. In instances like that one night, faced with violin practice, not only CAN I do hard things, I SHOULD do hard things.

Think about it! If I would have just put on my big girl pants and said, “Look, I know it might be unpleasant to walk up the hill to campus, but staying home isn’t an option tonight,” not only would I have guaranteed myself practice time, I would have accomplished SO much more. As soon as I rationalized and told myself that I could stay home to practice, the danger was that I wouldn’t practice at all. Which, I didn’t.

Not only can we do hard things; we should do hard things.

Taking the path of least resistance ends up getting us nowhere. The effort we exert when we put ourselves outside of our comfort zone stretches us and helps us grow.

The source I look to for help in all aspects of my life—for hope, for guidance, for strength—is my Savior, Jesus Christ. We can find His words and teachings in the scriptures whenever we need them. He has instructed us to “be anxiously engaged in a good cause, and do many things of [your] own free will” (Doctrine and Covenants 58:27) and to “neither be idle but labor with your might” (D&C 75:3). He knows perfectly well that we can’t grow and progress without effort, without work. We didn’t come to earth so we could sit back in our hammocks all day sipping lemonade. (Though I do have a firm belief that a little hammock-sitting and lemonade-sipping is good for the soul, so long as it’s occasional.)

A former president of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints and one of my favorite human beings ever, Gordon B. Hinckley, said this on the subject: “There is no substitute under the heavens for productive labor. It is the process by which dreams become realities. It is the process by which idle visions become dynamic achievements. Most of us are inherently lazy. We would rather play than work. We would rather loaf than work. A little play and a little loafing are good. But it is work that spells the difference in the life of a man or woman. It is stretching our minds and utilizing the skills of our hands that lift us from mediocrity.” (August 1992 Ensign)

Once we have chosen the more difficult way, the more productive option, the steeper trail, and we’re laboring and sweating and thinking to ourselves, “Why did I do this, again?” THEN we can hearken back to the phrase in its original context: “I can do hard things.” Meaning, “I can accomplish what I set out to do.” I think making a conscious decision to challenge ourselves often gives us the motivation we need to see the difficult task to the end.

But, for those very few times when the going is so rough it just seems impossible, I’d like to quote the apostle Paul:

“I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.” (Phillipians 4:13, emphasis added)