A Letter to My Children: Hardship

We live here on beautiful Orcas Island where the air is perfect. Forested hills reflect off of the calm ocean, and not even the buzz of a mosquito disturbs the lovely peace and quiet. Birds sing outside, and apples, plums, and berries hang heavily off branches outside our windows. We do not grow our food, nor do we raise animals in order to eat them. When we need something, we take a few minutes to pick fruit off a nearby tree or walk down to the store.

Our little home is secure from the winter’s winds and rains, and the heat of the summer is rarely a nuisance. You have lovely teachers and a wonderful little school. Our community lives in harmony. Our country enjoys complete freedom. We choose how we will live, how we will express ourselves, and what kind of work we want to do.

Jobs are prevalent and money is available. Dreams are attainable, and vacations dot our yearly activities. You are well-loved by your parents, family, and friends. You live in exciting technological times. You know that if you build skills, your future will be fulfilling, even exciting. We do not cry out to God begging for daily sustenance or relief from hardship; we’ve never missed a meal, nor do we work our fingers to the literal bone. Life in this town, this country, and this age is incredibly comfortable. We can go out and help others who ail and lack, but we have the safety of our home, our country, and our economic system to return to.

We do not know if or when bad things will happen, but hardship is something with which we have little practice. I’m not talking hard work, sickness, or death. I mean life-altering paradigm shifts that change life as we know it and even our global culture. As a mother, hardship is one thing I’ve given you very little exposure to. How can I prepare you for it? How can I build your character for hard times ~ your long-range endurance, your fortitude, your stamina, your hope ~ when you have lived in good times? We have not had large crops die on us for five straight years. We have not gone whole summers living off of one last bag of corn. We have not endured natural disasters or political catastrophes that have set us scrambling on the earth or killing our neighbors. I thank God for that.

But know someday that if hardship, failure, disaster, or total catastrophe enters your life and doesn’t quickly leave, all is not lost. Even if it destroys the dreams of your generation or the next few, you must be the ones to show your children what to do. You will have to dig deeper than I have ever had to dig to teach them long-suffering resilience, endurance, hard work, and hope. Stunning civilizations have crumbled. But new ones have also risen from the ashes. Every society needs good people who work to strive for high ideals, organized systems, and good for the people. We in this current society have lived in ease and luxury. Your culture has not equipped you for reacting mightily to fright, loss, or isolation. Your best examples are characters in movies and biographies from the past.

I have no idea how to imagine the world you’ll live in decades from now. In the past it took centuries for certain changes to occur. Now regular people are sending rockets – and themselves – into space. Excitement is literally in the air. Species are also dying faster than ever. As technology morphs, populations grow, rulers rule, and more is demanded of nature, you may experience the highest triumphs ever imagined or the hardest challenges yet.

I awakened this morning thinking about this. Know that you have a deep well from which to draw in case your life gives you circumstances I haven’t prepared you for. The basic human propensity to endure, adapt, and eventually innovate is astonishing. Take one day at a time, step one foot in front of the other, align with God’s guidance, and hold onto who you are when I’m no longer there to encourage you.

This is the first article of a weekly column called Sun Days on The Orcasonian, posted here.