What is strength? I use the word frequently. It is in my blog tagline and pops up regularly in my blog text, but, what of the word? Do we use the word correctly? Do we even have a good handle on what it means?
One definition is “the “quality or state of being strong”, while another goes like this, “a good or beneficial quality or attribute of a person or thing”. It would appear I’ve been using the word according to these definitions. So, I got to thinking about it. Do any of us really think about such words as we’re using them?
When I started thinking about what strength means, I looked around me. I saw my beautiful, old-fashioned yellow roses standing up straight and tall in the scorching July sun. They must be strong. They must have strength. Then, I saw the beautiful living room furniture my dear, late husband, Kent, made with his own two hands. There the tables stand, straight as can be, no matter what I pile on them. Is it the wood that has strength? Or, perhaps, it’s the way the wood pieces are positioned at right angles that gives the tables strength. Or, maybe, is it the love flowing through their craftsman’s hands and into the finished piece that provides the strength? The crafter knowing that, filled with the strength of his love and artistry, these pieces would live on past his earthly life to give me pleasure and memories long into the future. The strength of his love flowed from his heart, through his hands into the wood to keep the pieces together. How strong those pieces are to hold up the countless cookbooks and magazines I’m addicted to, often much too heavy for one person to carry. Yet, just like his love, which never once buckled under pressure, these tables stand tall, pitting their strength against the enormous pressure of the books’ weight.
What about you? Is there something or someone in your life that displays a strength you find hard to put into words? Tell me about it in the comments section. I’d love to hear about such strength that marvels you!
Yet another example of strength – Following Kent’s second lung cancer surgery, I took a brief break from his bedside to get some fresh air. In the front area of the QEII Hospital VG site there are gardens and green areas with benches. The sun was shining brightly that summer’s day. You could hear the spray from the nozzles of the hoses as the gardeners watered the plants. In the background was the distinctive buzz of a weed trimmer. All fairly normal daily sounds. It was amongst this “normality” outside that I chose to take a break from everything inside. As I headed to a bench, following a paved path, looking down, I spotted THE pinkest flower peeking out through the asphalt (I remember it had five little petals), there was not much of a stem growing and no leaves and it didn’t even seem to be growing out of a crack! It was like that little pink flower poked its head through to the sunlight, just to reassure me everything would be all right. Now, that must be strength. I sat on the bench and pondered that flower’s meaning to me. How had it managed to survive the milieu of people surrounding it? Why had some little girl not spied it and picked it for herself? It somehow gave me the strength I needed to go back to my Love’s side, armed with a medium double-double and Boston Cream Pie! I recounted my story to Kent and he looked up with that smile that made his eyes twinkle and said, “You know I’m going to be okay.” So steadfast, so certain was his tone, I believed him and he was right and was released within the week! Maybe, that is strength. Maybe, I’ve been searching for the real definition of strength and it’s been right in front of me all the time!!