It Only Takes a Second

I find a new semester, with the calendar is already filled, and the to-do list already long, intimidating. My first instinct is to put my head down, get to work, crossing the off days one at a time. Then I remind myself I want to do more than just get through it. I’ve been thinking about how I want to focus this semester.

Over my vacation I heard several times from different places “it only takes a second of courage.” I realized that maybe courage works that way. In short bursts that allow us to do what we are most afraid of. Maybe none of us really has courage all of the time, but we can find it, for just a few seconds, when we need it. There are moments and chances to grab on to it for just long enough to do the thing we fear.

It only takes a second. I want to be open to those opportunities to seize courage. When do I only need a second of courage? Or a minute? In what ways do you need to be brave for only a few seconds?

As I think about this semester, about running a marathon and donating my kidney at the end of it, and a full work and school schedule I am totally overwhelmed. If I want to do more than get through it, then I where I might need some courage becomes pretty clear.

I am afraid to face all of this alone.

Courage means admitting that fear. It means being vulnerable. It means allowing people to help me and throwing those needs into the universe and hoping, praying that acknowledging them out loud might be the way to meet them. Sometimes it takes a few seconds of courage to voice the things that matter most and depending on others to help us find our way.

I was talking about all of this, about asking for help and accepting it and memories of my first marathon came flooding back. I remember asking a bunch of people for prayers and short notes for me to read during the race. A request that only took a few seconds of courage—a few seconds where I revealed how scared I was of doing this and that I needed support. I found love there in places I never expected. Beyond notes, of which there were many, were care packages and cookies and phone calls. I felt like dozens of people were in Oklahoma, running with me in their own ways. Thinking about those people throughout the race, about how many people cared that I was doing this, gave me the strength to keep going in so many places. Thinking about sharing the stories with friends and family, helped those miles pass along and helped me take it all in.

Love and support is out there. But sometimes you have to ask for it. Ironically, courage sometimes is admitting we need help and letting go of independence. Not because we are weak, but because the big journeys demand collective strength. We could put our heads down and get through it, never letting others in, but then we’d miss the joy that comes from sharing it. We’d miss the strength we can draw on when our own has run out.

It only takes a second of courage to put yourself out there, whether it’s asking for help, or letting someone know how you really feel, or speaking some challenging truth. It only takes a second. Will you be ready when it comes?