I love words.

I feel about tag lines and quotes the same way some people feel about chocolate, sports teams and Breaking Bad. I can still remember certain tag lines and jingles from campaigns that aired back when I was just 5 or 6 years old. Heck, I still sing them regularly just to watch my husband roll his eyes (like this little beauty from the New York telephone company).

The flip side of that, however, is that there are words and phrases out there that just rub me the wrong way. No, I mean for real. Like when I hear the offending phrases, I can actually feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up and I have to grit my teeth. I’m not sure where this comes from or if I’m the only one with such a visceral reaction to words. But either way, it’s part of who I am in all my imperfect glory.

I dislike the words “subpoena,” “tasty” and “detrimental”. The mispronunciation of brand names and cities makes me itchy. But I’ve discovered recently that one of my most despised phrases is “It’s too hard.”

I hear it from the little kids in Sunday school telling me they can’t carry all their papers (a.k.a. the two papers I’ve given them).

I hear it from my son when he’s trying to put on his shoes.

I hear it from my daughter when she’s buckling her carseat.

And each time it feels like nails on a chalkboard. Why is our culture SO turned off by the idea of doing hard things? So many GOOD things come from doing hard things.

Anyway, before I get on my soapbox, I’ll tell you I’ve developed a little phrase that I’ve taught my children and I repeat it to them when they’re struggling with something.

“You can do hard things.”

When I hear the whining start, or when my childrens’ eyes well up with tears when they’re frustrated with something new, I look them in the eye and say it. And to be honest, I’ve been feeling like quite the rockstar recently because both of my children have muttered this phrase to themselves in the past few weeks. I may or may not have daydreamed about both kids doing big, amazing things in their future all because of this little phrase. Curing diseases. Saving the world. Doing TV appearances where they thank their mom. Etc. Etc.

Then this weekend, that phrase came back to bite me.

We’re getting ready to put our home on the market and have a list of small projects to complete to get it in tip top shape. One of those jobs was refinishing the front door of our nearly 100 year old house. I called around to get quotes from contractors and each one said it would be anywhere from $400 to $600 when materials were factored in.

For one side of one door.

My husband leaned over a stack of papers in the kitchen, reviewing the estimates from the contractors.

“Why don’t we just do it ourselves?”

I didn’t even look up from my laptop because I was pretty sure the “we” in that statement meant me.

“Sounds hard,” I said.

And that’s when Lydia’s superpower of selective hearing kicked in from three rooms away.

“But mom, you can do hard things!”

Sigh.

So off to Lowe’s I went that afternoon, both children in tow. I consulted with Rob, a lovely Lowe’s sales associate who kept pausing and looking at me skeptically as he explained all the steps involved in refinishing the door. Maybe it was my Kate Spade purse, dress and heels. Or maybe it was the children in my cart who were loudly sword fighting with paint stirrers. But more than likely it was due to the shock I displayed when he told me I had to sand the door three separate times. Three. Then wash it. Then wait for it to dry. Then prime it. Then spot sand. Then paint it. Then paint it again.

All of a sudden $400 wasn’t looking so bad. I purchased everything Rob recommended, but kept my receipt for all the materials tucked safely in my wallet in case I chickened out.

That night, we went to a BBQ with friends and my husband mentioned in passing that I was going to tackle refinishing the door. All the men perked up at that point, displaying knowing, skeptical looks on their faces. Just like Rob’s face at Lowe’s.

One of the guys said “Yep, Leigh told me she wanted to handle painting one of our rooms. A few hours into it, guess who ended up finishing the job and doing all the edging?? Yours truly.” All the other husbands had similar stories.

In that moment, I committed to finishing the job, threw away the receipt, and made a mental note not to discuss home projects with a bunch of men again.

Here is the before of my door after being power washed. You can see why it needed a little love:

So I started sanding it by hand. In 100 degree heat. I had to do it in spurts, mostly while the kids napped or were distracted. One of the husbands from the BBQ did lend me his power sander which was a GODSEND. I still had to sand three times, but it was a lot less backbreaking work than the hand sanding I had started with. Tony took a picture of this momentous occasion, me using power tools.

About 3 hours into sanding, I was pretty sure I had made a massive mistake. Maybe I could teach Lydia a life lesson another time. I was sweating bullets, covered in black soot, and frankly, I was bored. The glow of my newfound determination had long since worn off. But every once in a while I’d see Lydia’s little face at the window, smiling at mommy “doing hard things.” Ugh.

I finally finished the sanding, and I had this transformative moment where the wood that had once been dimpled and imperfect now felt all velvety and amazing (even though it still looked like this:)

That was all the motivation I needed. I cleaned the door like good ole Rob at Lowe’s told me too, let it dry, and then primed it.

The next day, I put on the two coats of thick, tar-like black paint in between the constant barrage of moving estimators, real estate photographers, conference calls and work assignments. And here, my dear lady friends, is the lovely new door!

I brought Lydia outside and proudly showed her the product of my blood, sweat and tears (literally) over the past week. She looked the door up and down, smiled wide, and looked up at me with her big blue eyes and said, “Great job mommy! But, um, it looks the same.”

I guess it does. Not exactly the impactful, teachable moment I was anticipating. But the project was still a teachable moment for me. Many, many teachable moments in fact. In my devotional readings recently, I’ve noticed that The Bible actually has a lot to say about doing hard things too, including this little beauty:

“And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.” Galatians 6:9

As I stare at all the hard but good things standing on the horizon for our family as we start a new chapter in our lives, there is so much comfort in knowing God is standing there too. According to this verse, we just need to keep going, without giving up. God will handle the rest and make sure that eventually, we will see the amazing results of our perseverance.

So as you think about what this means in your own life, you may be feeling a little less sure of your ability to do hard things. But consider this: After years of research in my career with women and mothers of all walks of life, I have found that all women feel insufficient, like we aren’t “enough” in some way. Wife enough. Mom enough. Smart enough. Thin enough. Funny enough.

Please listen to me. It doesn’t matter who you are, what you’re doing, or what you’re trying to do. You are enough. And you can do hard things with God by your side. Whether they’re the hard things you want to do or the hard things you have to do. You can conquer them.

Do not give up. And in due season, you will reap.

As for me, the next hard thing I’m going to attempt is scrubbing the layers of paint and primer off my body. Wish me luck.

-Lauren