Appreciating all of life contours

Appreciating all of life contours.

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Looking back on my life so far, there are certain moments etched clearly in my memory that have touched my heart and soul. Times of profound sadness that brought forth tears I didn't know I had. Moments of hard-won triumph that made me cheer out loud. Challenges that broke me down and left me questioning everything.

And quiet times of growth that have shaped me piece by piece into who I am. Even the hardest parts have a kind of beauty if you look closely enough, as they reveal the foundations of character.

What comes to mind first when I reflect are the people who have mattered most on this journey. Family who loved me in a way no one else could match, who picked me up when I fell and celebrated every modest win as if it was monumental. Loyal friends who knew precisely what to say when life kicked my feet out from under me.

Wise teachers and mentors who saw potential in me I hadn't glimpsed yet and pushed me to see the brightness of my star. And complete strangers whose small acts of service and kindness lent me a hand just when mine were not enough or too weary to grasp the ropes alone. The passing of any of these luminous souls brought more tears than I thought a body could sustain without bursting at the seams. But the time we had, however long or fleeting, I wouldn't trade for anything. Their light and love kindled sparks that will never fully fade away.

The tears which felt the absolute best, that brought the widest smiles bursting through sadness, came when something I had worked, sacrificed, and dreamed for finally came to full fruition after years of discouragement and setbacks and books closed too fast. Like graduating top of my college class on a scholarship after working twice as hard as anyone around me. Landing a job folks back home told me I was foolish to set aspirations for. Or saving just enough from those hard earned paychecks to help lift my parents onto their feet again after illness and misfortune took toll after toll.

Offering my hands, back, and sweat to help build someone who had lost everything in a ravaging storm the first firm walls of a new home. Life beat me down plenty of times, no doubt, yet when I was molded deep enough I arose better equipped to lift others up. Every triumph and act of service, no matter how small it felt, bloomed from the manure and mud seasons of suffering that had churned me relentlessly.

There were spans when the torrents of life definitely felt too jagged, too raging and ruthless, for me to stand strong or comprehend. Disease creeping upon those I love most without mercy. Financial hardships hitting one after another like a hailstorm bent on stripping away all cover. A string of rotten luck that seemed cruelly and unusually unfair.

In those moments existence felt too heavy, bleak, and bitter to justify carrying on the fight. I lost all sight of hope. I wondered why I worked so terribly hard if life was just going smack me back down to size whatever meager heights I grasped for. Those dark nights of the soul lasted longer than I care to recall now from this distance. When hot tears finally faded what lingered in their wake was a surprising second wind. Once all the mud settled, what remained standing, however wearily, was still me. And I glimpsed for the first time how strong I must truly be deep down when everything extraneous falls away. Those valley passages carved canyons across my heart naming me a survivor long before I owned that fierce of a name.

Thank you for reading my post.