Maybe this weight was a gift...

like I had to see what I could lift.
-Nada Surf, Do It Again

Interesting song lyric, isn't it? It always tends to reverberate around my mind, especially recently, with the death of one of my closest friends. It feels like everyday, every moment, is a choice to be crushed by events I can't control, or let them shape me into someone strong, someone who lives the serenity of knowing God is in control.

What does it mean to be strong? That's the topic of this post. What does it really mean, when people tell you how strong you are? I've come to conclude it means exactly this: waking up, every morning, taking a deep breath, and living- giving life everything we've got, holding nothing back, and not being broken by what happens to us. Maybe strength is there even when we don't feel strong...after all, dum spiro, spero- while I breathe, I hope. Maybe true strength is letting Our Lord carry what we cannot control- life.

Maybe no matter how many times I feel I've failed Him with my lack of faith, my fear, my stubborn refusal to let Him comfort and guide me, strength is turning back, again and again.

Maybe that's what it means to be strong. I reflect on how far I've come and how I have not been broken, however dangerously close I've been. Maybe this weight was a gift-to propel me, and others in similar situations, to the Lord who loves us more than we could ever know. And no matter how heavy it is- He is always there.


In "pastures green"? Not always; sometimes He who knowest best, in kindness leadeth me in weary ways, where heavy shadows be. So, whether on the hill-tops high and fair I dwell, or in the sunless valleys, where the shadows lie, what matter? He is there.
-Anonymous