Hold On

Nobody Walks Through These Doors on a Winning Streak

Another week. More ups and downs, twists and turns. But we're still inching forward every day, and sometimes that's all you can ask for.

There's another Jelly Roll song that's been playing in my head lately: "Nobody walks through these doors on a winnin' streak. Hold on (hold on) (Amen) Hold on (hold on)."

The song is about staying sober, about recovery, about fighting addiction. But every time I walk onto an ICU floor, those words hit me in a completely different way. They become oddly true and strangely helpful.

Because nobody does walk through those doors on a winning streak, do they?

Nobody shows up to the ICU because life is going perfectly. Nobody's there because everything is easy and smooth and exactly as they planned. Every single person walking those sterile hallways is carrying a heavy load. Every family gathered in those waiting rooms is facing something that's turned their world upside down.

The businessman in the expensive suit might be watching his father slip away. The young woman scrolling through her phone might be praying her child makes it through surgery. The elderly couple holding hands might be facing a diagnosis that changes everything. The teenager sitting alone might be the only family member able to make it to the hospital.

We're all just trying to hold on.

And that's the thing about hard seasons—they strip away all the pretense. They remind us that none of us has it all figured out. None of us is immune to life's curveballs. None of us walks through the really difficult doors on a winning streak.

But here's what I've learned in these weeks of inching forward: there's something powerful about acknowledging that truth. There's relief in admitting that we're all just doing our best with what we've been given. There's grace in recognizing that everyone around us is carrying something.

So here's my reminder to myself and to anyone who needs to hear it: never assume you know what's going on in someone's life. Be kind. Be loving. Be patient with the person who seems distracted, or short-tempered, or just not quite themselves. They might be walking through doors they never wanted to walk through, carrying weight you can't see.

The person ahead of you in line might be heading to the hospital after this errand. The coworker who seems distant might be getting difficult news from doctors. The friend who hasn't called back might be sitting in a waiting room, just trying to hold on.

We're all inching forward in our own ways, facing our own battles, learning our own lessons about what it means to keep going when keeping going feels impossible.

But we keep going anyway. We hold on. We show up for each other. We choose kindness even when—especially when—we're running on empty ourselves.

Because if nobody walks through these doors on a winning streak, then maybe the real victory is just showing up. Maybe it's holding on when everything in you wants to let go. Maybe it's extending grace to others because you know how much you need it yourself.

Another week ahead. More ups and downs, I'm sure. More twists and turns. But we'll keep inching forward, one day at a time.

Hold on. We're all just holding on. And somehow, that's enough.