What Do We Teach Our Families When Life Gets Hard?

Hardship never affects only one person.

 

Like a rock hits calm water and sends out widening ripples, hardship affects our family, friends, those closest to us. Its ripple effect spreads tension, fear, and discouragement or strength, resilience, and deeper faith.

 

That hard thing settles into the family, either by sudden storm or by constant weight pressing down day after day.

 

Even if no one talks about it, we notice: 

  • What they say and leave unsaid 
  • How they react when plans fall apart  
  • What they avoid and what they face


Body language can speak louder than words.


Sometimes the same trial rests on everyone, each person responding in their own way.


Other times the burden seems to fall on one person. But even then,
it rarely impacts them alone. The most private, personal trials usually show up, and those closest to us know something happened.


It can leave an imprint so powerful that
it restructures family culture, our children’s belief system, and sends ripples on into the next generations.


Like a fossil pressed and hardened over time, our response to adversity
forms an imprint that remains long after the circumstances change. 

 

The Invisible Transfer 

The way we live under hardship teaches far more than our words do.

 

  1. In one home, a man meets suffering with steadiness and acceptance. He doesn’t rush to defend himself. He refuses to resort to wrong-doing, even if it makes life easier. He doesn’t draw attention to his pain as he accepts the cost of his choice.


His family learns: 

  • Adversity doesn’t give a free pass to abandon convictions. 
  • They can endure suffering without losing their values. 
  • Standing for Truth costs something. 

2. In another home, a man meets the same pressure differently. At first, he pushes back. Then he begins to compromise what he said he believes, finding ways to blame others and stay out of more trouble. He may become despondent or aggressively control the circumstances around him. 


His family learns that:

  • Circumstances determine beliefs. 
  • It’s okay to compromise rather than to endure hardship. 
  • Convenience is worth the price of integrity.


Both men faced the same adversity but left different imprints on their families.


Our
raw, unguarded responses to adversity, the micro-decisions we think no one sees, identify the foundational values our families come to trust and build into their own families.


What example do we pass on? 

What example will our children reach for?

What example do we instinctively reach for when hardship hits? 

 

Choosing What Values to Keep 

Though we never consciously chose it, the example we received from our families settled into habits and beliefs about ourselves, others, and life. It all feels so normal, we’re usually unaware of it.


Some of us carry our family’s example forward without questioning it.

Others wrestle against that pattern and choose to face life and hardships differently. Just because we inherited it doesn’t mean we want to pass it on.


Were you ever shocked by lashing out like Mom used to or withdrawing like Dad? 


Are you becoming the person you never wanted to become?


The imprint is stronger than we realize.


That recognition offers us a choice:
what model is worth keeping and what needs to be left behind? 

 

A Family Tested 

My family and those of our heritage faced these choices through generations of hardship under Soviet communism.


The Iron Broom
tells the fuller story of how each person made choices to either accept or avoid suffering, and how their choices affected mine.


My grandparents faced it first, torn away from their families and marched to forced-labor camps. In the face of suffering, famine, and death, they clung to their faith and convictions through small choices made in private moments.


So when I was sent to the frozen north to guard gulag prisoners,
I didn’t start with a blank slate. I stepped into intense pressure with vivid examples before me. 

But though I inherited my family’s model, I still had to decide for myself: 

  • What convictions are worth the cost I’ll pay to uphold them? 
  • What model will I follow and pass on to those around me? 


These are questions we all end up facing.


Whether we’re aware or not,
we’re already answering them in the small moments, each day, by what we accept, excuse, refuse, and justify. 

 

Read the Opening Chapter

If you didn’t already receive the opening chapter of The Iron Broom, you can request it below, and I will send it to your email. Thank you.

 

 

Follow Along

As we near the launch of The Iron Broom, I’ll share more about the book and who it will resonate with most deeply.


If you would like to keep reading and stay connected, you can follow along on my Facebook page below.


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How Does Hardship Shape Us?

How Does Hardship Shape Us?

Hardship and suffering visit us all.

 

Sometimes it arrives loudly, rattling the foundations of our world. What we confidently believed in suddenly feels fragile, unstable.

 

More often, though, our hardest moments arrive unnoticed by the outer world. They unfold quietly in the privacy of the heart.

 

The empty chair at the table.
Long nights of worry.
A strained, silent marriage.
The dreaded diagnosis.


No one escapes it; hardship is part of human life.


While adversity feels different from person to person, we all recognize its unyielding weight pressing down, demanding a response of each of us.


Some grow bitter. Some grow stronger.


The same fire that hardens one refines another.


In which direction will it shape you?

 

Danger to the Soul

So what happens when we come under intense pressure?


When suffering strikes, our first instinct is often to run, duck, or hide. We may try to silence it, look for ways to ease the discomfort, self-medicate.


But adversity leaves its mark.
It works quietly under the surface. When we keep choosing the path of least resistance, pursuing ease and comfort, it fragments our souls and hardens our hearts.


The person who once trusted freely becomes guarded.

The one who moved with clear purpose hesitates and slowly withdraws.


The change rarely happens overnight.
It comes slowly, unnoticed, like water wearing down stone.

  • Unattended fear can create aggression or shrink our soul down so far that we avoid risk, limit trust, and lose the grit and courage that sustains our purpose.
  • Unresolved pain and injustice fester in our hearts until it boils out in hot anger, usually on those we love.
  • Unforgiveness spreads deep, tight roots of bitterness and restatement, binding us to wounds we want to escape.


Over time, a person who once lived with hope, openness, and courage slowly becomes a bitter, angry cynic.


Adversity itself doesn’t create this. Suffering left unattended reshapes us.


And often, we don’t notice the change until someone, maybe we ourselves, pause and ask, “What happened to the person I used to be?”

 

Human Agency: What Will You Choose?

When hardship’s pressure seems unendurable, survival tempts us to compromise. Bend a conviction here, soften a principle there, anything to ease the load for a moment.


Whenever we come to this fork of comfort or conviction, we choose one or the other.


The sooner we learn to face unavoidable hardship, the sooner we discover its potential to shape our character, deepen our faith, and forge strength we couldn’t gain otherwise.


So, hardship may be unavoidable, but we hold the power to choose what shape our souls take from it.

  • We choose to give resentment room to grow or to forgive the one who never apologized.
  • We choose whether fear guides our decisions or whether we let courage guide us forward.
  • We choose the price of integrity.


These decisions rarely show up in public. They’re born in private, where no one else sees or appreciates the burdens we carry.


In those moments, our life takes on direction.
The “small,” unseen choices we make here, today, leave their mark on our lives, on our families, on the generations to follow.

 

A Life Shaped on the Anvil

Through all of history up to today, the pressures on a human life become unbearable at times.


Freedom vanishes overnight.

Fear of starvation becomes a daily part of life.
Survival itself is uncertain.


That’s the world I grew up in.


As a young man, I found myself shaped by forces I did not choose and could not control. The system around us demanded obedience. It rewarded silence and punished moral conscience.


The line between survival and compromise grew dangerously thin,
something we as a family faced again and again.


The Iron Broom
is the true story of our experience under communism, starting when Red Terror swept innocent people like my grandparents into forced-labor camps. When my time came, I was sentenced to Siberia’s frozen wastelands to guard prisoners just like them.


In the face of extreme adversity, we determined not to lose our soul while trapped within a system attempting to erase it. 


In the end, conflict is not won or lost by political systems and nations. It’s fought within every human soul, no matter the setting.

 

What Will Hardship Do to Your Heart?

Some let suffering separate them from their dreams and ideals, their loved ones, and the real world.


Others come through it with deep resilience, strength, and tested faith.


That difference is determined by each person’s non-negotiable values. Those values give us the courage to stand firm through suffering and injustice without losing integrity, even when it costs dearly. They allow us to endure what we thought was unendurable.


When ordinary people, like you and I, hold to our convictions under strong pressure, our lives become a witness to the fact that it is possible to endure hardship without surrendering the very things that make us human.


So, if you feel like you’re at the end of your rope, tie a knot and hold on. It is not over.


Even in the darkest places, hope and light can break through and redeem great suffering.

 

Read the Opening Chapter

In the coming weeks I will share more themes from this book with you.


Meanwhile, if you would like to read the opening chapter of The Iron Broom, you can request it below, and I will send it to your email. Thank you.

 

Refining Trail

 

Refining Trail

Lying in my tent, I’m looking through the mesh at stars flickering between the forest branches. After hiking twenty miles on the rocky trail, my body is spent. Yet my mind refuses to rest. Every sense is on full alert, especially hearing. My military years guarding prison camps in Siberia trained my ears to catch the faintest sounds and avert grave danger.

Now, deep in Virginia’s forested Blue Ridge Mountains, listening to the pulse of its nightlife, I know I’m in one of the safest places possible. I have no fear, but that old instinct refuses to release its grip. Reaching for my Kindle, one of two devices I brought along, I read my devotional: “We still complain when sanctifying trials come our way…” A sudden gust sweeps through the canopy, acorns hitting the ground like bullets. Is this a sanctifying trial? Moments that startle us awake and shake loose the illusion of control, so faith can find its footing again in the dark?

My mind drifts to the list I wrote back in the comforts of home, the reasons I’m here:                                                                                                              – Step out of the bubble.                                                                                                                                                                                                                   – Time with the Creator in His creation.                                                                                                                                                                                   – Trade glowing screens for starlit skies.                                                                                                                                                                                  – Exchange political static for the sound of silence.                                                                                                                                                    – Find out if this trail can be a training ground for character.

 

The Appalachian Trail isn’t an escape from life; it’s a rich, rewarding encounter with it.

 

I read on, “We are still torn between our love for the claustrophobic little kingdom of self and the grand and glorious purposes of the kingdom of God.” I picture my little tent as that claustrophobic little kingdom, and beyond its thin walls, His vast, grand space kingdom. Drifting off, I feel the pull between my desire for comfort and purpose. What I focus on will, in the end, shape the result.

Drops splattering on my face wake me. In the chilly pre-dawn darkness, I wrap my blistered toes, pack my thirty-pound rucksack, strap it over my shoulders, grab my trekking poles, and hit the trail. Here, the trail is the teacher and dishes out the same to everybody. It doesn’t bend to comfort or complaint. I can’t change it. Accept it and grow or fight it and go miserable.

The climb is steep and the fog dense. Wet from sweat and drizzle, I finally crest the mountain in daylight. But I can’t see the valley, the reward I expected from this climb.

The AT isn’t like the Sierra or the Rockies, where sweeping views meet you around every bend. Hikers call it the “Green Tunnel” where we’re better off leaving our expectations of grand vistas at home and learn to see subtle wonders in small things:                                                                      An eagle floating overhead.                                                                                                                                                                                                                       The orange glow of a dawn.                                                                                                                                                                                                                   Dew strung like jewels on a spider’s web.                                                                                                                                                                                       The distant hoot of an owl.                                                                                                                                                                                                           And grand vistas from some mountain tops.

Beauty is everywhere when I slow down to notice.

Standing here in the fog, it strikes me how much this mirrors real life. You push hard to get to the ‘top’, expecting some result for all your efforts. But when you finally arrive – no fanfare, no applause, just silent fog. So you swallow your pride, release expectations, and keep moving on.

Looking around, I can’t tell which way I came, which way to go, so I examine droplets on the grass and choose the direction where they still hang undisturbed. After a while without seeing a single white blaze marking the AT, I get uneasy. Did I choose the wrong trail? With every step, the temptation to go back grows stronger. Finally, through the fog, a faint white stripe on a tree comes into view. Relief. Another life lesson, one of many the trail seems eager to teach. If I’m teachable.

I’m reminded that character is like a teabag, you don’t know what’s inside until it’s steeped in hot water. The AT has a way of steeping us hotter and deeper, burning off excess comfort fat, and if we let it, forging it into the muscle of purpose.

I meet many people along the trail, but Creek (his trail name) stands out. From the start, we seem to hit it off. What begins as street-level small talk soon dives to heart level. We share our life stories, struggles, family, father wound, forgiveness, and changes we hope to make. For three days we hike and talk, and I sense in him a quiet hunger – for guidance, for a father’s voice.

After a seventeen-mile hike, I finally reach the top of McAfee Knob. The day is amazingly perfect: clear blue skies, a soft breeze, sunlight spilling across the vast valley far below. Standing on the rocky ledge, I take it all in – the end of my thirteen-day section hike. I linger, basking in the moment, the beauty, the sense of accomplishment. My eyes trace the ridge line of mountaintops fading into the blue horizon, like a long winding story, every ridge a challenge faced, every valley a lesson learned.

To be at the top comes with a substantial price paid down below, where the struggle is raw and lonely, where your body wears down while your spirit is polished in endurance, contentment, and gratitude. Sweat, blisters, pain, rain, sleepless nights… all parts of the trail we can’t change… all we can change is our inner attitude. On the trail, I encountered both: the Triple Crown hiker who conquered all three trails (CDT, PCT, and now AT) but not his own negative attitude towards the trail, weather, and people.

And then there was Greybeard, a 90-year-old through-hiker legend, conquering for the second time his 2,184-mile goal. When I asked whatmotivated him to do this, he looked heavenward and said, “Here I’m closest to God. All nature around me points to Him. I thank the Lord every day for the trail.” Later, I run into his support team and meet another trail legend, Nimblewill Nomad, who has walked all the known trails in America. He shares a few poems, lessons the trail wrote on his heart, each one echoing humility, reverence, and deep respect for the journey.

Lord, set me a path by the side of the road,

Pray this be a part of your plan,

Then heap on the burden and pile on the load

And I’ll trek it the best that I can.

Bless me with patience, touch strength to my back

Then cut me loose and I’ll go

Just like the burro toting his pack

The ox a-plowing his row.  -by permission from Nimblewill Nomad

I slowly make my way into the valley, to the ‘row I was given to plow’ and the ‘pack to tote’ with a new sense of appreciation and thankfulness.

Section Title

 

Refining Trail

ByDavid Sawatzki


Blog
Refining Trail Lying in my tent, I’m looking through the mesh at stars flickering between the forest…
Read More

The Icy Anvil of God

ByDavid Sawatzki


Blog
The train chugs along the seemingly endless Trans-Siberian Railroad,* every one of the 54 berths in…
Read More

Stepping Out and Up

ByDavid Sawatzki


Blog
We stand atop a hard-pack snowdrift on the shore of the deepest lake in the world. Nestled within…
Read More

The Forge

ByDavid Sawatzki


Blog
A forge transforms nondescript iron into something useful through the process of refining fire. Аs…
Read More

The Icy Anvil of God

The train chugs along the seemingly endless Trans-Siberian Railroad,* every one of the 54 berths in our wagon occupied. It reeks of sweaty feet, cheap alcohol, and Ramen noodles. The stifling heat and din of humanity keep sending me to the far end of the train for some semblance of fresh air. Everything in me wants out…back to where we came from 15 hours ago.

We’d been traversing frozen Lake Baikal** covering 600 kilometers (373 mi.) in 24 days. Beneath us lay 20 percent of the world’s freshwater, 336 rivers and streams flowing in, and the one great Angara flowing out. Every morning we’d crawled out of our tents, harnessed ourselves to a sled loaded with a month’s worth of provisions, and pushed northward. Surrounded by vast expanses of ice and snow and with massive mountains stretching along the entire western shore, we faced bitter winds, snowstorms, pack ice, exhaustion, cracks wide enough to swallow sleds and men… and ourselves.  

 

(more…)

Stepping Out and Up

We stand atop a hard-pack snowdrift on the shore of the deepest lake in the world. Nestled within Siberia’s mountains, Lake Baikal is a mile deep and contains 20 percent of the world’s fresh water. The sun peeks over the mountains behind us, illuminating a vast expanse of snow and ice. We silently contemplate the task before us. 

Bob breaks the somber moment with a nervous laugh, “What do you think, can we do it?”

“Let’s unpack the gear,” I answer, and we head to the car at the edge of the forest. Grabbing skis and heaving backpacks onto our shoulders, we step out on the ice. “That’s our compass.” I point to the dark peak sticking out of the distant morning haze. “Tonight, we should be at the foot of that mountain.” 

Pasha, the youngest and strongest, asks, ”Any idea of the distance?”

“Not exactly. I estimate around 35 km.” 

Bob’s moving warily over the ice. “How thick is this?”

“Local fishermen say it’s more than a meter. Look over there. See that car moving? Fishermen are checking their nets.”

“Huge trucks drive across this lake,” Pasha assures him. We head into the white yonder. 

After a while, Bob asks, “Tell me again, why are we doing this?” 

 


(more…)

The Forge

A forge transforms nondescript iron into something useful through the process of refining fire. Аs the blacksmith selects a scrap of rusty metal, he envisions its potential. He lays it under red-hot coals until it glows, then takes it to the anvil and hammers that moldable piece into a valuable, definitive tool. No longer just rusting, it becomes an integral part of something greater.

Many men like to be seen as strong, hard, and tough and are proud of it. But raw strength can be dangerous or lay dormant if not tempered physically, mentally, and spiritually. We need to periodically go through the refiner’s fire and be hammered on the anvil of God. 

Being male is a matter of birth. Being a real man is a matter of choice.

But who is this male in us? What is the essence of manhood? Do we understand him and why he is as he is? Are we satisfied with what we see? Are others satisfied with what they see in us?

 

Too often we have information but lack transformation. 

That’s where the Forge makes it possible for men like you to get the support and know-how to gather a group of like-minded men that you will lead from information to transformation.    

Today, more than ever, our world needs men worthy of their calling – men clear about their identity and responsibilities, unafraid to roll up their sleeves and face the challenges of life. When a man is clear about who he is, he’s clear about where he’s going. This kind of man lives purposefully in his family, at his workplace, in his church and community. Knowing his identity, role, and direction, he’s confident to step up and live out his God-given potential. 

“Character = the ability to meet the demands of reality.”    Dr. Henry Cloud