tough: adjective and noun

Saturday morning.

Toward the end of last night's Wausau Lyric Choir concert (the first of three this weekend) Carla Dul, the director, paused before “Sing Gently” (which I encourage you to listen to) to dedicate that song to her students from the Mosinee High School choirs. Turning to the members of the concert choir who had joined us in an earlier number, she spoke of the challenges they had borne together these last two years. Among other things, she reminded them that they had been ready to do whatever they had to do in order to sing. When told that they wouldn't be permitted to sing unless they wore masks, they had masked up. (Singing in a mask is not easy.) 

One sentence struck me: “When the going gets tough, the tough keep going.” It’s not a new sentiment. I’ve heard variations through the years, even in a truck commercial years ago. I never liked “When the going gets tough, the tough get going” but never considered why. Since last night, I’ve considered it and I have two issues with the truism, both in the second part.

I don’t like calling someone, myself included, “tough.” Tough is an old hen that has to be stewed for hours in order to be tender. Tough love is sometimes harsh and uncompromising. Tough is an unexpected break-up. A well-done steak. A hard truth.

Then there’s the “get going” part that seems to suggest that up until this point we’ve been doing nothing. I can’t speak for you but if a situation calls for activity, I’m already doing something by the time “…the going gets tough.”

Carla’s choice of words eliminated one of my issues. And given the past couple years, I’m willing to yield on the other. Things have been tough; for many of us they still are. Yet we have kept going. We are tired (oh, are we tired!) but we continue. Though sometimes ploddingly, we keep putting one foot in front of the other. Well done!

I’m not suggesting that you should have to do more or even continue as you have. (I gave up “should-ing” years ago.) You know your capacity; don’t let anyone tell you differently. I think what I mean to do is to encourage you to give yourself credit for the stamina you’ve shown, the perseverence you’ve mustered. Maybe you didn’t do all that you expect of yourself. Maybe you weren’t your better self as much as you’d have liked. (I didn’t and I haven’t.) But we have each been through a storm. As communities – local and worldwide – we have weathered a storm like none we’d yet faced. We still are. But like the willow, we have bent yet not broken. Well, maybe a little but in healthy, or at least understandable, ways. Those breaks are life scars that remind us that we are and continue to live.

Keep living. Fully. Gently. Loudly. In whispers. In whatever way is yours. That’s my message for this week. 

This prayer seems fitting...