A couple of days ago, I came across a post that stopped me for a minute.
I’m not going to share the post itself, because what stayed with me wasn’t necessarily the exact words. It was where they took my mind.
It was essentially about how much of what we see online isn’t actually real life. How easily we get pulled into outrage, comparison, arguments, fear and everybody else’s opinions.
And how sometimes the answer is incredibly simple:
Log off.
Go outside.
Talk to real people.
Help somebody.
Pray.
Get closer to God.
And I thought…
YES.
Because I keep coming full circle to this idea that we have choices every single day about what kind of human being we are going to be.
Not someday.
Not when circumstances get better.
Not when everybody around us starts behaving the way we think they should.
Today.
Wednesday, I ran 10 miles.
This was only a few days after running a marathon, and my legs were definitely heavy. 😂
My body wasn’t hurting. Nothing felt wrong. I could just feel that I was still recovering from asking it to run 26.2 miles.
Today I went out again and ran 5.
And my body feels GOOD.
Still recovering? Absolutely.
And I suppose that’s exactly what should be happening.
You don’t run a marathon and expect your body to forget about it a few days later.
You give it what it needs.
You fuel it.
You rest it.
You move it.
You listen to it.
You let recovery take the time recovery takes.
And maybe that’s part of what I’ve been learning spiritually, too.
Growth doesn’t happen in one giant moment.
Neither does healing.
Neither does peace.
Neither does becoming the person God is calling you to be.
It happens through tiny choices made over and over again.
And running has taught me that better than almost anything.
People will say:
“I could never run a marathon.”
“I’m not a runner.”
“I could never do what you do.”
But I didn’t wake up one morning able to run 26.2 miles.
I started somewhere.
One mile.
Then another.
I trained.
I practiced.
I showed up on days I felt great and days my legs felt like bricks.
I learned how to fuel.
I learned how to recover.
I learned when to push and, maybe more importantly, when not to push.
Thousands of tiny choices eventually became a marathon.
And I think life works exactly the same way.
Sometimes we say “I don’t” so many times that we start believing it means “I can’t.”
But what if you tried?
Not the entire marathon today.
Just the next mile.
Not fixing your entire life today.
Just making one better choice.
Choose your hard.
Discipline is hard.
Living without discipline is hard.
Getting sober is hard.
Addiction is hard.
Setting boundaries is hard.
Living without them is hard.
Forgiveness is hard.
Resentment is hard.
Growing spiritually is hard.
Staying stuck is hard.
Doing the next right thing can be hard.
Living with ourselves when we continually choose not to is hard, too.
We don’t always get to choose whether something is hard. But we very often get to choose which hard we’re willing to carry.
And I’ve learned that discipline isn’t punishment.
Discipline creates freedom.
The more choices I make that align with the person I want to be, the less power the outside world seems to have over me.
And that brings me back to that post.
You don’t have to participate.
You don’t have to attend every argument you’re invited to.
You don’t have to hate somebody because you disagree with them.
You don’t have to become outraged because everyone else is outraged.
You certainly don’t have to wish harm on another human being because they see the world differently than you do.
We have somehow created this culture where disagreement can immediately turn into dehumanization.
And we have a choice there, too.
I can disagree with you and still recognize your humanity.
I can believe something deeply without needing to destroy someone who believes differently.
I can decide something isn’t for me and simply walk away.
I can pray.
I can pause.
I can ask myself:
What is the next right action for ME?
Because I’m responsible for my side of the street.
And this morning, I got another beautiful reminder of just how much bigger this all is.
I was sitting with people from all over the world, growing spiritually together.
We were talking about trees and dreams of all things.
And I just sat there thinking about how COOL that is.
People living completely different lives, in completely different places, with completely different experiences—and somehow we get to meet in the same space and talk about what it means to grow.
To be still.
To connect.
To listen.
To become better humans.
There is something incredibly hopeful about that.
Because the internet can absolutely connect us through anger.
But it can also connect us through growth.
Through recovery.
Through faith.
Through curiosity.
Through conversations we may never have had otherwise.
Through people we may never have met otherwise.
And we get to choose which version we participate in.
That’s the part I don’t want to forget.
The world doesn’t have to be peaceful for me to have peace.
For a long time, I thought peace would arrive when everything around me finally settled down.
When people acted the way I wanted.
When relationships felt secure.
When circumstances changed.
When I had enough.
When everyone understood me.
When life stopped being hard.
But that’s not peace.
That’s trying to control the conditions.
And control is exhausting.
Peace is something different.
Peace is being able to stand in a world that can be loud, divided, messy and sometimes downright heartbreaking and still ask:
God, what would You have me do next?
Not:
How do I make everyone else change?
Not:
How do I win this argument?
Not:
How do I make them understand me?
Just:
What is my next right action?
Maybe it’s speaking.
Maybe it’s staying quiet.
Maybe it’s apologizing.
Maybe it’s setting a boundary.
Maybe it’s helping somebody.
Maybe it’s running five miles.
Maybe it’s resting.
Maybe it’s sitting with people from around the world talking about trees and dreams and God and realizing how connected we actually are.
Maybe it’s simply choosing not to add more hate to a world that already has enough of it.
That’s where I want my energy to go.
Because at the end of the day, I can’t control the whole world.
I can control what I feed.
I can control what gets my attention.
I can control what I contribute.
I can keep working on my body, my recovery, my sobriety, my relationships, my faith and my own spiritual growth.
One choice at a time.
One run.
One prayer.
One meeting.
One boundary.
One conversation.
One surrendered thought.
One act of kindness.
One decision not to react.
One next right action.
Again and again and again.
Until eventually those tiny choices build something.
Maybe they build a marathoner.
Maybe they build recovery.
Maybe they rebuild faith.
Maybe they build character.
Maybe they simply build a human being who leaves the world a little better than she found it.
And maybe that’s enough.
Choose your hard.
Choose your heart.
Protect your peace.
Love people anyway.
And take the next right action.
God is indeed good. 🤍
melodiealexander 