I woke up this morning questioning my commitments. I didn’t want to go to CrossFit at all. Ever. Why, I
wondered, after years of doing nothing more vigorous than gentle walking, did I
choose such high-intensity training? I’m tired. I questioned my commitment to continue with my doctorate. I’ve
spent 12 hours a day for the past few days trying to meet a deadline for a draft
of the first three chapters of my dissertation. I’m tired. I questioned writing this blogpost. Every year for the past eight, I’ve
commemorated my brother here on this day. What would it matter, I wondered, if
I missed this year?
It wouldn’t. Not really.
Except that each time I pause to remember Marc, I remember that
I have this gift of time that is lost to him forever. I have more blessings than I can count, and a
lot of work left to do to keep my promise to him to find ways to ensure there
is a place in the schools of tomorrow for the brilliant children like my
brother who struggle with learning in our schools today. And I remember, too, the Thomas Paine quote
he sent me days before he died:
The harder
the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too cheap, we
esteem too lightly; it is dearness only that gives everything its value. I love
the man that can smile in trouble, that can gather strength from distress and
grow brave by reflection. 'Tis the business of little minds to shrink; but he
whose heart is firm, and whose conscience approves his conduct, will pursue his
principles unto death.
The conflicts I face are so small, my rewards won so cheaply;
it’s back to work for me with a grateful heart.
