The beautiful struggle is the rainbow at the end of a horrific storm. The storm came and knocked all the power lines to the black damp asphalt, shiny glass thrown about from neighbors’ windows, yet your house is still standing as if sunshine had only kissed it.
When we whether a storm in our lives we may only see the immediate rain, but at some point we know it will pass. Additionally, when the next storm hits we will know exactly how to prepare to keep our houses standing. We will board our windows and teach others around us the techniques of remaining safe. Some try to pick up and move to only find that there are storms in every neighborhood.
Tragically losing my father at the age of seven has been a representation of the beautiful struggle. There is nothing that can take the place of the number one man in your life, but God. It brought the realization of death and the fragility of life very early on. I knew that I had to enjoy every moment and not take those around me for granted. It helped me to understand that Jesus is my comforter and guide. He is my father. He tells me which men to avoid, which job to take, how to tithe, and how to treat my Mother and Grandmother. The struggles that are rooted in lack reveal things to His children that enable us to go back into the storm and save others.
I’m waterproof at this point and understand the purposeful pain .It is simply to bless others and lend them a hand to pull them out when they are in need. You find strength when you sow your time, gifts, and efforts to the less fortunate. Give your way out of life’s struggles. I was a teenager at one point in time and I had to bruise myself, a time or fifty, to find my way in the world. Those dark purple bruises eventually disappeared, and it has allowed me to go back in and be a mentor to a young woman.
I was joyfully inspired by a thin, 5’3, 70’ish, pace maker toting civil rights worker. Last night, she came into a volunteer meeting for a U. S. Senator with such vivaciousness that would get anyone to their feet. She looked me in my eye, slightly over her bi-focal glasses, and told me that it was her responsibility to teach me about community organizing. She trained under Martin Luther King in the segregated south in the 60’s. She spoke of non-violent demonstrations at segregated lunch counters to only be called “Monkey and a Nigger” while having soda spilled down her coat. Others looked as if they couldn’t wait for her story to end, but I wanted to hear more as this griot would not be around forever. Despite her physical incapability’s and the deep pain that was in her eyes; there was an eternal smile that I will never forget.
God is a healer and ALL things work for the good of those that love the Lord. There isn’t one thing in your life that occurred that you can’t overcome. For we are more than conquerors in Christ who loves us!
Have a cause (s) for this beautiful struggle.