Seasons and Horizons

Yesterday, I walked over seven miles—more than 15,000 steps. I’m staying active, paying attention to what I eat, and trying to take care of myself. Yet I’ve noticed my weight creeping up during this season of working away from home.

It’s frustrating, especially when you feel like you’re putting in the effort.

What makes it more frustrating is that I’ve noticed this pattern before. During some of the most stressful periods of my life, my weight increased and my body felt softer, even while I was staying active and trying to eat well.

Then last year, when I found more of the peace I had been looking for, my weight came down and my muscle definition improved. My food choices were similar enough that the difference caught my attention.

I suspect stress is part of that picture, though I haven’t established the medical explanation. What I do know is that I felt different during those seasons.

Here again, I’m working through long days, constant demands, and the pressure to move everything forward. There is always another problem to solve, another deadline approaching, another person waiting for an answer.

Sometimes you spend so much of your day responding to what everyone else needs that you barely stop to consider how you’re doing.

And I’ve learned that I’m not the only one noticing changes.

Several people working alongside me have mentioned gaining weight during this project. Some are considerably younger than I am. Some still go to the gym. These are active people carrying demanding responsibilities.

Those conversations made me reconsider an assumption I’ve made about others.

I’ve seen someone carrying extra weight and assumed I knew why. They must eat too much. They must not exercise. They must not take care of themselves.

I’m uncomfortable admitting that, but it’s true.

Then I found myself walking mile after mile, trying to make good choices, and wondering why my own body seemed to be changing anyway.

I know what it feels like to be making an effort while my appearance doesn’t seem to reflect it. Remembering that makes me slower to assume someone else isn’t trying.

Working away from home can offer opportunities and better income. I’m grateful for those things. But there is also the daily reality of living somewhere temporary, being away from familiar people, and trying to rest while your mind is still working through tomorrow’s problems.

The workday ends, but sometimes there is still work to do.

Last weekend, I spent about six hours catching up on job responsibilities. That was time I had hoped to have for myself.

The coordinating part is often the part I enjoy. Give me a problem, and I’ll keep looking until I find an answer. But after the conversations and the fieldwork, there are still observations to write and details to document. Finding a problem doesn’t finish the responsibility. Someone has to record it so it gets addressed.

That unfinished work stays with me. Even while I’m walking, part of my mind can still be running through what needs to happen next.

I’m realizing that learning to set the work down is a struggle of its own.

I also remember a younger coworker who mentioned gaining weight during the job. He was active and served in the military reserves, yet other people made jokes about his size.

Now, experiencing changes in my own body, I think differently about those comments. His appearance didn’t tell anyone how much effort he was making or what he was carrying.

Neither does mine.

And everyone has their own circumstances that we may never see.

Someone may be worried about a marriage, caring for a parent, grieving a loss, or wondering how to pay the next bill. We can stand beside them without knowing any of it.

I’ve been thinking about how quickly I notice a person’s appearance and how slowly I consider their circumstances.

I’m still trying to understand the physical changes in myself. But I don’t need every medical answer before I can learn something from this experience: people deserve more consideration than a quick judgment about their bodies.

I want to keep taking care of myself. I also want to recognize when I need rest and when the pressure deserves attention. Earning more and doing meaningful work don’t remove those needs.

I’m learning that I need time when I’m allowed to be finished for the day, even if the entire job isn’t finished. That is difficult when I care about the outcome and know there is more to do.

But I also care about the life I’m working to build—and having enough peace to enjoy it.

Perhaps this is one of God’s quiet gifts in an uncomfortable season: the opportunity to recognize an assumption in myself and let Him change it.

The next time I’m tempted to judge someone by what I can see, I hope I remember how much of my own life is invisible to the people passing me.

There is more to their story, too.