Resilience
“He knows not his own strength who hath not met adversity.”
William Samuel Johnson
It was one text in the middle of a group of other texts. I don’t think I was surprised by it, but it captured my attention just the same. The text was from a mother commenting on her pride—pride over her daughter’s fight to stay in the game.
My daughter wasn’t participating in that game. A series of injuries left her on the sidelines. My heart ached for her. I couldn’t use my mommy finesse to make things better and put her back in the game. I, just like her, could only watch.
You see, both that mother and I were watching our daughters’ performances at an away meet via recorded videos that were being sent to us. I knew her text wasn’t meant to elicit emotion in me; she only meant to express her own pride in her daughter. But, because I knew I wouldn’t be receiving a video of my daughter competing, that mother’s joy over her daughter’s fight left me thinking about my daughter’s fight—a fight that wasn’t going to be in any video I would be receiving because it wasn’t visible to the world.
I have always wanted to fix things for my loved ones, and especially for my children. I am not saying I don’t want them to ever struggle, because a little misfortune helps them thrive. But I guess I am guilty of wanting to control how much discomfort they encounter.
A little ache only makes them stronger.
Dutch colonist Adriaen van der Donck documented and described post-delivery rituals among the Mohawk and Mahican Indian tribes in the 1600s. In his description, Native American women ceremonially plunged their infants in the river after birth. And they did this not just once, but daily. Over time, the cold water was thought to toughen the babies’ skin and help them acquire strength.
I understand this concept, yet it is difficult to imagine participating in this ritual. My view of protecting my children when they were babies included swaddling them in warm blankets, keeping their diapers dry and bellies full, and singing soft, comforting lullabies.
An act of love.
We live in a world that can be painful and requires more than just tough skin. I still offer my children comfy blankets, but I can’t rescue them from the adversity around them. Mean statements are going to be hurled in their direction. At some point in their lives, heartbreak is certain to find them. And games are going to to be watched from the sidelines because of events I can’t control.
Oh, how I wish the character we gain through strife and turmoil could be obtained a different way, but those details were never designed by my hand.
The fight is necessary.
The fight defines us—testing who we truly are, deep within our soul. Can we adapt to the uncontrollable circumstances of life? Will we hold to our commitments even when times are tough and unpleasant? Will we persist through the difficulty, determined not to give in?
The fight refines us, getting rid of our inflexible and unwanted traits of impatience, arrogance, stubbornness, jealousy, fear, and doubt.
The fight makes us who we are by forcing us to take an inward glance in search of an answer to extinguish our anguish—anguish induced by outside circumstances.
The fight is required, and to paraphrase William Samuel Johnson, we know not our own strength until we meet adversity and fight past the tears, toil, and discomfort to locate our greatest capabilities within.
A personal note:
I started this post not long after my February 1st post was published. My dad was home from the hospital and back at work. Life seemed to be returning to normal. A few minor challenges popped up, but they seemed ordinary … until the ordinary, minor struggles continued to come and increased in number. In the short span of three weeks, influenza invaded my home, a sports injury created more questions and fears, and another of my loved ones was hospitalized.
The last thing I thought I could do in the midst of my crazy life was write a post that could inspire and encourage, especially when all I wanted to do was whine and complain. I needed a post for my March 1st publication regardless of my circumstances, but writing this one made me feel like a fraud. How am I—the girl who still questions the trials of life—an authority on resiliency?
Well, I’m not.
I am just like you on this journey we call life. I don’t have all the answers … and sometimes I don’t have any of the answers.
But what I do know is that I can’t just crawl in bed and let the world pass me by. I have to fight. I have faith that the fight will reveal and strengthen my true resiliency. And I am certain that the fight is a lot easier when we share in it together.
I hope you will join me.
Please comment on this post with your trials, struggles, tribulations, and especially your fight. Who can you share your struggles with and how do you think your trials and tribulations will make you stronger?
