I love a good challenge. Match that with the fact that I’m highly competitive, and you’ve got an Olympic medalist wannabe in the making. Well…maybe not quite that far, but you get the picture.

I often share the story of how in elementary school and early middle school, I was one of the tallest girls in my class (that changed by 7^th grade). I was also pretty fast and could out-run most of the girls. I welcomed field days or anytime we would race in track and field events, because I knew I would be near the front of the pack. That always made me smile.

One day…in high school PE class…long after my being “one of the fastest in my class” days were over, we were running the 100 meter sprint. The old me came out, and I ran as hard and as fast as my (now) short legs would carry me. I mean hard. I ran so hard that when I got to the finish line, my feet stopped running, but my legs tried to continue, resulting in me going *splat* all over that hot, black asphalt track.

I was pretty scraped up, a little bloodied, and quite bruised, but the biggest bruising affected me emotionally. I embarrassed myself in front of the entire PE class. I also realized my limitations all over again. That was the last day I ran in a race-like fashion. Jogging? Yes. Running? Nope.

Sadly, that little exercise translated into other areas of my life. Whenever I struggled or failed at something, I found myself choosing to quit in an effort to prevent further embarrassment. A perfectionist at heart, it pained me too greatly to complete something that I couldn’t do well or that might not end with a “happily ever after” ending.

Frustration with things not going as I planned also plunged me into a “well, forget about it then” mindset. I can’t tell you the number of things that I’ve started that resulted in my throwing in the towel. It ranged from things as small as a craft project to much more life-altering decisions, such as my college major.

In the last 10-15 years of my life, I’ve seen a shift. Maybe because I’ve been thrust into many “do or die” situations, but regardless of the reason, I’ve started to be more of a completer. Not in everything – but in more things. As a single parent during many of those years, I’ve had no choice in the matter. My daughter relied on me for most everything, and I had to perform. So – fail or not – tasks were completed.

Sadly, as recently as this very week, the “old quitter Leah” returned. I wanted to throw in the towel in so many areas. And, if I might be a little transparent, I even wanted to quit on this blog. I knew I was in a 40-day series, but I thought…well, I made it to day 30…that’ll have to be good enough.

Whether it is my diet, exercise program, book proposal, blog writing, or sewing project – I was ready to say “to heck with it all”. It’s too hard. I never see the fruit of my labor. Why bother? Yep – Eeyore was back.

But then…yes, the “but” word is back.

My husband called me on it. We had a very tough, but necessary, conversation about my little “quitting issue” as of late. He recognized it for what it was (and knew this was an area I’ve struggled with in the past), and he called me on it.

He helped me to see what I was too blind to see…none of the desires that God has placed in my heart, my own dreams and goals, would ever come to fruition if I continued down this path. God has given me access to His strength through Christ Jesus. Have I been tapping into that strength as much as I’ve needed to? Probably not.

After his little pep talk, I recognized my sin…took it before the Lord in repentance and begged Him to meet me right where I’m at and help me to reach the goals that are in line with His will for me. As hard as it’s going to get at times, I cannot quit. I challenge you with the same. Regardless of the fact that you might be hanging on by a thread in an area in which you’re already past the desire to quit, if God won’t release you from it, then…Do. Not. Quit! Keep running the race my friend. I’ll meet you at the finish line.

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us…” ~Hebrews 12:1 (ESV)

One of my most memorable Christmases was the year we spent it in Council Grove, Kansas. I think I was around 9 or 10 years old. My parents, siblings, and I traveled that year to share the holiday with my grandparents and aunt & uncle. We were the only grandchildren (and nieces and nephew) on that side of the family, so it was just as special to them to have us there.

I am the oldest of three children, and we were still at the ages where gifts under the tree got our attention. We knew Christmas was about more than gifts, but you couldn’t convince us to diminish our excitement over those shiny wrapped packages.

Christmas morning arrived. The gifts were all unwrapped. And, we began admiring and playing with all our new items. And then my aunt walked out with another gift (one for both my sister and me)…this one unwrapped. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen…an “adoptable doll” made to look similar to me…brown hair, brown eyes, pink dress (my favorite color), etc. I’m probably dating myself here, but adoptable dolls were around in the late seventies and very early eighties and were pretty much the pre-cursor to the Cabbage Patch Doll. They were similar in appearance. (I’ve included a picture of one – not mine – to give you an idea.)

My aunt handmade these dolls. And, she couldn’t wait to give my sister and me these little treasures. While I genuinely loved dolls, in general, my Aunt Jane and I were (she’s no longer living) also VERY close. So, to have something this beautiful that she made with her own hands was something I deeply cherished.

The doll disappeared later in my life through a series of tragic events. But the memory of that beautiful piece of handicraft and my sweet aunt remains.

I’ve had a lot of things and people “disappear” from life over the last four decades. I’m sure there were several that I’m glad went missing, but there were others that I cherished and yet still had to learn to live without.

I’ve struggled with abandonment before and the fear of being abandoned again. I’ve been hurt several times over, and I used to allow it to consume me. But, God did a mighty work in me in this area.

There’s a passage from Psalm 94 that reads beautifully in The Message: