“So nice to see you! Is everything going well? What are you up to?” That’s our typical greeting when I run into my friend Cindy now and then. This morning she told me she’s up to a new challenge; “Just a little jump.”

“Just a little jump.” Those words conjured up this blog post faster than a weathervane spinning in a hurricane.

For Cindy, horses are the hinges that hang the door to her soul. She loves being around them, and they are intrinsically part of who she is. Horses feed her soul. They center her. They offer a calm in every season we weather.

Year after year, I seek shelter from frigid winter winds and freely sail the seas on sunny summer days. But sometimes my soul seeks more. Along with steep fear and reluctance, I reach for more.

Wandering through life works for those who are comfortable remaining within the safety of stasis. But sometimes growing pains come at night and stay past the dawn; they are an ever-present ache in our soul. They become the impetus for change and forward motion. These pains are the energy that fuels seasoned equestrians to jump higher and win more awards. For Cindy, it is a symbol of personal growth and newness. As she says, “It’s just a little jump.”

This sentence riveted my being like a continuously-sought answer to a life-long question.

While my childhood abuse took so many things from me, healing secured much of what I needed to move on to live a meaningful, fulfilling life. But one issue has remained ever-present; what was I meant to do or be? What was I supposed to create, accomplish, or invent to effect a positive change in humanity? Why am I resting in a place of complacency? How do I fight this fear, ride with the risks, battle barriers preventing me from moving forward? More importantly, what will this accomplishment look like?

Then it dawned on me: “jumps” can mean a myriad of things. They can be a literal leap on a horse, or represent a movement in life and in time. This revelation brought me both my answer and much-needed comfort.

While I raised our five children, I was frequently lost in a delirium of diapers, nap time, meals, laundry, carpools, and eventually college move-ins then move-outs. I was sleep-deprived and functioned on fumes. Ultimately our children went off on their own and are now making a brilliant difference in the world. I am still here. I wander, and I wonder- am I having an impact on society? Am I worthy? Do I matter? What is my role, and where is the validation?

I saw friends become doctors, lawyers, and dentists. Me? I stayed home to raise our children, putting my nursing career on hold. Eventually, ten years ago, I got my forensic degree and began my career as a sexual assault nurse examiner. Several years ago, I published a book based on how I broke the cycle of my abuse. Then I began two Facebook pages to support now over 17,000 members. But still, I felt I was coasting and not making enough of an impact on others. Until I ran into Cindy.

“Just a small jump” led me to realize that we can better others’ lives in small ways that can be as effective as one big one. I might see only one sexual assault patient at a time, but I also might be the first person to give them the understanding and empathy they needed. I might only have an impact upon ten abused Fb members in one day, but that is encouraging them to know they are worthy, and they do matter. All of these are “small jumps.”

While some make huge leaps, Cindy and I will continue to make “small jumps.” Even if we don’t feel we are stretching, “small jumps” are at least one step forward versus staying where we are or, worse, falling backward.

I have decided I will take the “small jumps.” Falling off a horse or failing to succeed at small goals is not as easy when you are past the age of 50. So while Cindy takes her jump, I will take my job and my efforts to support healing survivors. In the end, for those we inspire, it’s so much more than just “a small jump.” Those we encourage experience a giant leap of our faith in them. They, in turn, gain the courage to repeat this unto others. Cumulatively we end up making a huge jump after all.

No matter what you battle, or how high you leap, it is how you embrace the challenge that makes a difference. Give it your all. Make your movement matter. Those you help will move on to perpetuate the ripples in the water from the stone you threw. But don’t wait. The horse might be out of the barn by then.