Mary took a bad spill from her bike on Saturday. She fell into a dirty puddle on the road, and I came out to find her sobbing, with muddy clothes. Jesse had already tried to clean her off a bit with the hose and Siwa was holding her and comforting her. She had scrapes all over, and two angry red road burns, loaded with dirt and tiny embedded grit. I cringed and scrubbed, telling her I was sorry and that I needed to get her sores cleaned, or it would hurt worse later. I told her she needed to slow her breathing and to breath in through her nose and out through her mouth. She said it was hard to do when she was hurting so much. I told her she could do hard things, and she said, "I can?" I said, "Yes, you can." She was very brave and I told her so. I was proud of her and I told her so. In her tears she said, "Now I know what it feels like to be miserable."
I smiled sadly and thought about all the pain and trauma we go through in this life. I thought about the burdens we each carry, about the secret sorrows we all know, and maybe never tell a soul about. And I thought about how we each have our own particular package of trials- no two alike. I thought about the big "why" that so many people ask- "Why me?"
While I was thinking about all this adversity, an image of a tree came to mind (I've been thinking about ironwoods a lot lately). I imagined the roots and how they dig deep for nourishment and stability. If a tree's roots don't go down far enough, when the coastal winds come and come strong, it could very well topple. The winds of adversity teach us to dig down deep. We send our roots deeper and hold on tight to the soil beneath us. Down there we find reserves of water and nourishment and the support of a deep foundation. We grow stronger, and taller, and more beautiful than ever. That's the answer to "why me?"- because we were always meant to be stronger and taller and more beautiful, and without our "particular package" we might still have a surface only root system. We were born to strive for greatness. It is our heritage as children of God.
So when Mary falls off her bike and knows what misery feels like, I know how to comfort her. I can tell her that things will get better, that they won't always be this way, because she is going to heal in time. I can tell her that she is very brave and I'm proud of her. I also know that she probably won't fall off her bike as much from now on because she is wiser. But the most important lessons I think she learned, are that she can do hard things, that she is strong enough and brave enough; and that she has someone who knows how to comfort her, and just what she needs.
I've learned all these things firsthand. I know I have a Savior who will always be there for me, who trusts that I can do hard things, that I'll dig down deep, relying on Him for nourishment and support- rather than topple. He is my foundation, my support, the nourishing source of my life, growth and beauty. He knows that I am brave enough and strong enough to do hard things, and that in doing so, I will become who and what I am meant to be. "Why me?" Because I'm going to sink my roots down deep and stretch to the sky.
