What is “hard”?
The current subtly pushed us past each of the 12 bridges between Sellwood and St. John down 17km of the Willamette River, while the wind made the kayakers WORK. The contrast created lumpy water—each breath needing to be quick and precisely timed to get air instead of water. Sometimes you’d get water, spit it out, and try again.
Dynamic. That’s the word that came to mind, watching my kayaker dig with each stroke—getting pushed back at every 30-minute feed, then fighting to get back by my side.
Five and a half hours later, surrounded by new and old friends swapping stories from the water, I asked the other swimmers: “Did you have fun?” That was my aim—to learn and have a good day on the water. I thought it was fun!
But this week brought a different kind of dynamic water.
I enrolled my 10-year-old son in a camp he didn’t want to attend. After the first day, he went on and on about being the only boy, not knowing anyone, and feeling so much “pressure.” He didn’t want to go back. He ruminated so much he couldn’t sleep.
As a mom, how do you ask your kids to do hard things?
I told him about the kids that come to our backyard pool for swim lessons—the ones who ask, “Do I have to?” And how each time they do, it becomes a little easier. Over time, “But it’s hard” becomes “Can we do it again?”
I considered bribing him with video games and candy. He was convinced these were skills he’d never need and that everyone else was better at—it was hard.
I wanted to honor his feelings. He’s at an age where so much is still decided for him. But also at an age where the pride of his decisions could shape him for life.
On the third day, after pep talks from dad, brother, and grandma, he went in with a new attitude: “I’ll ask for help and let people know I’ve never done anything like this before.”
At pickup, he said, “This was the best day ever.”
I wish I could have bottled up that arc—from defeat, to courage, to renewed confidence. I’d sell it to everyone I know!
What’s a hard thing for you?
Is it trying something new?
Asking for help?
Saying no to the Doritos?
Signing up for your first open water swim—or the one that really scares you?
Hard looks different for each of us. Sometimes it’s physical. Sometimes emotional. Often, it’s invisible—like sitting in silence when you want to fill it with distraction. Or noticing a self-critical thought and letting it pass without latching on.
Hard isn’t always loud. Sometimes it’s the pause before responding. The hug when you’re tired. The deep breath after a slammed door. The quiet resolve: “We’ll try again tomorrow.”
For me, what was hard wasn’t the swim. It was watching my son face something that stretched him. It was resisting the urge to rescue him from discomfort. It was trusting that he could navigate his own dynamic waters—just as I do mine.
And maybe that’s what hard really is:
Not the thing itself, but what it asks of us—
To grow.
To trust.
To become.
So… what’s hard for you right now?
And who might you become on the other side of it?
I’d love to hear from you.
With curiosity,
Shannon
