“If You’re Going Through Hell, Keep Walking” by Debra Hadraba for BraveHeart Women #107

by Debra Hadraba on April 26, 2010 · 0 Comments
in The "Is it True?" Series

Welcome to Honor Your Truth, The “Is It True?” Series Episode One Hundred Seven “If You’re Going through Hell, Keep Walking”

I’m not a golfer. My Dad is a golfer. My Mom is a golfer. My brother is a golfer. My sister is a golfer. I’m not. Try as I may, I have challenges hitting a round thing with a straight thing with any kind of finesse. While there may be contact, the round thing will go wildly off in a direction of its choosing. I cannot be held responsible. I always hit it too hard, if I don’t, then I miss it all together, no happy medium… ever. It is something I am working on. I’m starting small… miniature golf at the Red Putter with the staff. It seems harmless and easy enough.

That being said, I was pretty certain I was going to end up with the prize… a can of kraut juice. They call it the b—y prize, but I don’t like that saying. I should research its origin. I’m certain it’s ridiculous. I would have foregone the golf game entirely and gone ahead drank it so we could move on, but most like to play and play to win. I drank it so fast that nobody saw me. They missed the photo opp and were mad… sorry, I’m not stoppin’ and there’s gonna be no re-do. Get it while you can. I’m not wasting my time whining either. It’s just better that way.

Like getting in cold water at the pool, or better yet, like the thousands of crazy people who plunge in Lake Michigan January 1st for the annual Door County Polar Bear Swim. Maybe they’re hung over and can’t feel any worse or still drunk and just don’t care. Some people will wear a ton of clothing, which others claim is worse. There are tactics, there are theories. In my mind, though I’m not going to prove it, the best strategy is “get in and get out.” Period. Then proceed directly to the pancakes at “The Great Pancake Show”

When I was in Girl Scouts, we would go to camp in the summer. Part of the experience was bogging, which I would never do today, but it was a blast. We would trudge through the swampy, quick-sandy, oohy gooey mud containing God knows what until we would reach the lake. If you stop, you cannot feel the bottom but you can feel yourself sinking. The troop leader continually urges you on. Often someone panics, but she only shouts “keep moving.” No time for consolation.

Keep moving. One step… I breathe… another step… I breathe again. I move like a river. I cry. I get sad. I get mad. I don’t bury my heart underneath a boulder of pain I have yet to feel. It will only get heavier with the years. I am fluid, not stuck. You can’t stop things from changing if you try. This too shall always pass. It is a promise that life keeps. I don’t fight it… for if it is a lesson, it will only come around again later if I do. It seems there is always something that I learn.

A dear friend of mine passed away recently. He died of cancer. He knew his time was near, yet he talked of all the leather carvings he was working on and how he was changing around his studio. He lived much longer than they said he would, much longer. He remained alive in every moment. I was in Door County working when he died. Before I left, he gave me a necklace that was a little beaded pouch. I can feel the weight of it against my chest when I wear it. When he got real sick and was dying, it fell from the place I had it hanging as if to let me know.

Life waits for no one. It keeps going. I want to roll along with it, not wait for mine to happen as it does. It will move on without me. It’s my choice to say, “I’m in!” I am free to choose, if only I will claim it… with a step and a breath and a step and a breath. This is how I do it. I Honor My Truth!

Debra Hadraba

Please, visit and join my BraveHeart Women Global Community at Honor Your Truth.