When Harder is Better

I’ve always been abysmal at sports or really anything athletic. I could dance easily enough but even my adolescent attempts at gymnastics were met with the realization that it just wasn’t for me. I was completely dumbfounded by the concept of tumbling and how you could just defy gravity. Truthfully, I was terrified of getting hurt which led to some pretty amusing moments like me walking the balance beam at our recital while holding on to my coach’s hair… like I gripped a handful off his head and wouldn’t let go for anything. Fairly certain my parents got that one on tape. 

As I got older, I didn’t have to do a whole lot of “sporty” things. Physical education ended for me in junior high when band became a qualifier. I loved that I could dance, jazz run and march my way into a PE credit without having to run a track or lift a weight. Outside of workout classes, my last foray into sports came in college with my sorority’s flag football team, the Death Angels. We. Were. Awful! Like absolutely, terrible BUT I was the most terrible of them all. We won one game in four years and it was the game I didn’t play in. That wasn’t lost on me. I knew where my strengths lie and it was in a cute uniform and enthusiastically cheering! I loved it! 

College also offered one more chance to be athletic if I so chose, which of course, I didn’t but that was in my PE credit at William Carey. I took a class called Health and Wellness for a New Lifestyle which required weekly gym membership which I knew I could do. My mom suggested instead I take what she took at Carey, bowling. No ma’am! Take a class that was literally based on my athletic ability, hand-eye coordination and generally sportyness? Why would I do that to myself? I’d rather retake Business and Economical Statistics! 

See, I’ve never been great at bowling. I’ll go and it’s always fun enough but I know I’m going to embarrass myself. I’ve always secretly hoped to get on a lane with kids so I could use the bumpers knowing that was about the only way I was going to keep the ball out of the gutter. Sometimes I’ve not even got the ball down the lane. Like it just gave up halfway down which is understandable if you’ve ever seen my performance. It’s not unusual for me to have the lowest score of everyone, regardless of age and normally I don’t begin to edge even close to triple digits. However, I learned a great life and spiritual lesson while bowling not too long ago. 

My Bible Fellowship group goes bowling several times a year and has for ages because it’s a great way to hang out with friends while being able to chat, be slightly competitive (if you’re good) and get to know people and their personalities outside of church. My method at these events has always been the same. Hang out, have fun and try not to injure myself or someone else. See, I live in fear of having the ball go flying out of my hand backwards at my friends or getting stuck on my fingers and dragging me down the lane or flying off my hand and into the ceiling. I’d like to say this has come from watching too many Instagram Reels but this has literally worried me since I was a kid. So, I always pick the lightest “adult” ball I can find and preferably a pretty one… I’m a full believer in form AND function! Seriously, I’ve done this for years! However, a few months back I was bowling with my friends when I ended up on a “non-kid” lane, all the balls were already picked and these silly people chose something weighted for the age 12 and up category. Who did they think they were dealing with? 

So up I saunter with what I consider a far too heavy ball to have my first go and it was quite the difference. It wasn’t easy to roll because that sucker was heavy. I thought, “Heaven to Betsy! This is going to be the moment I do irreparable damage because of this stupid thing!” but then something happened…

As I took each turn, I put more effort into throwing the ball because I knew that was going to be the only way to get it down the lane and I didn’t want to do the walk of shame to retrieve it from the halfway point. In the process of exerting more effort I noticed that my ball went  further, it stayed straighter and it knocked down pins… like a lot of pins. In fact, I got a Strike and a Spare in that first game which had me pondering why the sudden change? Clearly, I had not gained some amazing athletic ability overnight and I had not been secretly practicing to surprise my friends. Nope, it was the ball. That’s all that changed. 

I had always steered clear of the heavier aka harder ball because I felt uncomfortable and I worried about the unknowns. It didn’t feel safe and yet, there I sat realizing that the “harder” was actually better. It increased my skills, it ironed out some of my smaller weaknesses and even my friends noticed so much so that for the second game I kept looking for my “heavy” ball because I knew it would help me along. 

As I was telling my mother all about my miraculous improvement, it hit me! LIfe is a bit like that at times. Sometimes harder is better. The moments we run from out of fear of the unknown or because we don’t feel prepared are actually the very moments we need to propel us forward to success. Sometimes easier is just more comfortable NOT better. I used to equate my comfort level with what was best for me but that simply isn’t true. I actually have a note on my desk that says, “ Sometimes a sure thing isn’t the best thing” as a reminder that often we chase what feels known, not what is ultimately best for us. 

Some of the best things in my life have been uncomfortable, hard and even filled with tears. Tough conversations that led to heartbreak and perhaps restoration. Betrayals that led to new directions and purposes. Seasons of loneliness that drove me further into the Father’s arms. Diseases that taught me to rest and utter silence that taught me to hear His voice above my personal noise. Not one second of these moments were comfortable. They were incredibly hard but I know if I had only been given comfort in place of these I’d have missed out on some of the best bits of my story. That’s hard to remember in the moment because, unlike throwing my heavy ball, I can’t always see the immediate benefit but I’m learning to trust that it is there because I trust Who has orchestrated it. 

So maybe the next time you’re given an opportunity to pick the harder option over the comfortable one, you’ll take one brave step towards something better… even if it’s just a ball.