Willpower in Winter
willpower feels like a day at the beach
looking over my shoulder for the next wave that will come
catching it and rushing forward from the forceful momentum that carries me
then sometimes I just resign
from the forces that move, from the crashing waves and tide rising, tide falling, sand slipping around my feet sinking deeper
instead I go sit, on the shore, choosing the sidelines, and face the horizon, watch and listen to the all the movement
when a wave of melancholy hits
I strap on a life vest of grace, I remember verses to hold me afloat
and the moon glows at night, and the clouds float over up high passing by
"One dish at a time" I will tell myself, just clean one dish today then put it in the dishwasher. This trick often works. I start small, and a small start feels a little like that verse about dying to myself, but I do it (four days after it should have already been done) and as always after one, I do another, and then another, and the momentum carries me on. But first I had to gently nudge myself to start; one day at time, one dirty dish at a time.
Willpower is like a day at the beach, or 30 minutes washing dishes four days late, and always the gift of grace to begin again. It feels like all of that sometimes.