The limits

How about that Michael Phelps?  He's amazing.  The only thing I can compare him to is Michael Jordan.  I guess the takeaway is that if you want a once-in-a-lifetime athlete, you should name him Michael.

I watch the Olympics and see people who have pushed themselves to the very limit.  I marvel at their dedication and preparation and just raw talent. 

I've been thinking about limits and being pushed to them.  Sometimes life gets hard.  Really hard.  Sometimes I feel like that's it, I'm done.  This is beyond my limit.

It never is though.  And here's why.

A few days ago a pinprick of light arrived when one of the laurels told me she'd finished her personal progress requirements.  I spontaneously threw my arms around her.  There are just good things in the world!  Everywhere!

Even on bad days, I have a family that loves me.  They gather around me--even via the phone--and bolster me in ways that matter.  I have a temple that shines like a beacon out the window.  And it's proximity is close.  I can go there for peace and solace.

I have prayer and a loving Heavenly Father.  If I'm quiet enough, I can feel whispers of hope.

The other night, I asked Adam, "Do you feel like we're being pushed to the limits of the human spirit?"

(I'm nothing if not dramatic.)

He said, "Yes."  Then he added, "And we're surviving."

And guess what?

We are.