Hurt is a Character Builder

It’s not a fact we like to face or talk about often, but the hurt and hardships in our lives are the driving force behind the molding of our human character and the strength of our human hearts. You might say that brokenness births greatness at times, or at the very least, it gives way to resilience and creativity, in quantities you would have never known had you never shed so many tears.

I’ve said so many times, “I’m not strong,” when someone tries to compliment me by telling me how strong they believe I am.

But the truth is, I AM strong.

I’m as strong as God has allowed me to become through the tragedies He has allowed me to go through. And I have bitterly resented my strength and the method used to build that muscle for years.

But I’m seeing things through more mature eyes now. Oh, I’m still mad and resentful sometimes. Who wouldn’t be?

I’ve had more than my share of trauma and tragedy. More than anyone should have to face in a lifetime and yet, here we are, facing the aftermath of it every single day and staring down the emptiness and the memories left behind.

I lost my 16-year-old son. Found him dead actually. And that was by far the worst day of my life, but it wasn’t the only horrible event I’ve been drug through.

Three stones with the names of three of my boys exist.

Two babies and Mikey, my 16-year-old, Still, that isn’t all. I lost my Daddy when I was 18. There’s way, way more.

I’m going to stop listing the hurts. I think I’ve said enough for you to know life hasn’t been a skip in the park. More like a crawl uphill with a huge bag of boulders on my back and no shoes on hot rocks with sharp edges dodging lightning bolts and landslides and with hair tickling my face and a bug scooting around in my ear the whole time.

Not. Very. Dang. Easy.

But.

Because of the pain, I learned to turn to God.

Well, I also learned to turn away from Him and to everything else for a really long time.

Because of the pain, I feel incredibly peaceful now.

That’s only after battle after battle with God, wrestling the waves of the ocean, screaming at the clouds, throwing myself down in the dirt, clawing my way through the alcohol, swimming through the damn river.

Because of the hurt, I can speak to others about their pain.

NOW I can. At first my tongue was frozen, and I was offended at the sheer AUDACITY of anyone who asked me to say something to anyone who suffered a loss because I had “been through that” and “knew what they were going through.”

No, I the hell did not.

But it’s okay.

I still don’t know what they’re going through but I know what I went through, and I can talk about that, and it seems to help. And if I can help one person, then my brokenness is not in vain. My tears have a purpose other than to kill me.

I don’t often write about grief anymore, but today I was reminded, or triggered, or whatever you want to call it, and I realized again a fraction of the capacity of God’s ability to take a hurt and turn it into something beautiful, something worthy, something meaningful, something not wasted.

That’s God. That’s who He is.

I will stay broken for the rest of my life, but beauty will come from it.

That’s more than I deserve, and certainly more than my dirty fingernails ever expected.

Sometimes I’m still clawing my way out of the muck of grief and self-pity, but other times I feel myself floating on the freedom of knowing there’s a better day coming and I’m not just sitting here waiting on it. I’m still living my life and that’s a miracle in itself.

Choosing to continue to keep breathing is my greatest achievement since losing Mikey, because I actually have a life and I never expected that.

As I wrap up this post, I glance to my left and see the weapon lying beside me. It’s not there for a “just in case I decide to check out of here” moment, but the thought always does still cross my mind, now as a memory of when it was a very real possibility.

Tonight it’s only beside me for protection, in case I need it to stay alive. I don’t anticipate a moment like that, just pointing out the vast difference between then and now.

Tonight I am happy to have a life, and I’m not looking for ways to die.

If you’ve ever suffered through a catastrophic personal loss, you know how big that is.

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a divine pic credit