What Doesn’t Kill You Makes You Stronger…Sometimes

They say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

Sometimes.

And sometimes it startles you from a sound sleep, heart pounding and breathless, wondering if what didn’t kill you will darken your door once again.

Lately, I feel as though everyone around me was given a full tank and I am running on empty.

Like I trained and tried out, but I didn’t qualify.

Sidelined.

The way otherness always makes us feel.

I watch as my peers post their milestones, breakthrough moments, and life events.

Meanwhile, I’m a walking encyclopedia of medical statistics and warning signs. A half-hearted running list of do’s and don’ts, questioning if it matters. Can anyone really know what makes a difference?

It’s a strange sort of half-life. Being the cautionary tale - the one people don’t want to end up like.

When it comes to cancer, will I ever have the last laugh?

I’m reminded there’s a difference between being buried and being planted.

One represents an ending. The other, eventually a beginning, but more so a safe-keeping.

God himself is tending to the ground above me, just like a gardener tends to his land.

Would a gardener plant a seed and not monitor its movements? Of course not.

He is deliberate in choosing the right location - just enough sun, not too much shade.

He waters it. He prunes it.

He guards it from frost. He clears away the dead leaves to make way for new life.

He provides it with everything it needs to flourish.

He does this day in and day out. He doesn’t expect the seed to perform without his help or blossom over night.

God is in no danger of forgetting to care for me daily any more than a gardener would plant a seed and leave it to shrivel in the sun.

I know this to be true even on days like today when the trauma triggers and I feel buried.

This is not my 'hallelujah, endure for a little while, and then it will all work out’ post because that’s not where I’m at today and I think it’s important to be honest with ourselves and each other.

This is my ‘I’ve been through a lot and some days are still hard’ post.

Does a seed ever experience guilt over not being farther along? How deep it’s planted? How often it rains or how long it takes to emerge from the damp, dark soil?

Not at all. It allows the gardener to do his work. It leaves the details to him. It gains its strength in the safe-keeping.

And when the time is right, it blooms.