Strength. Yeah It’s Not Here.

Strength.  I have been hearing that term a lot.  And many of the times I have heard it has been in reference to me.  To be completely frank, I just do not feel that the word fits me.

Strength noun

  1. the quality or state of being strong; bodily or muscular power; vigor.
  2. mental power, force, or vigor.
  3. moral power, firmness, or courage.
  4. power by reason of influence, authority, resources, numbers, etc.
  5. number, as of personnel or ships in a force or body: a regiment with a strength of 3000.
  6. effective force, potency, or cogency, as of inducements or arguments: the strength of his plea.
  7. power of resisting force, strain, wear, etc.

After looking up the definition, I still do not feel that the word fits me.  If I was strong, I wouldn’t feel so lost or hopeless.  If I was strong, I wouldn’t need so many to lean on.  If I was strong I could still work while going through treatments.  If I was strong, I wouldn’t need to hermit on my treatment weeks.  If I was strong the side-effects wouldn’t be so demoralizing.  If I was strong I would be able to walk through this with my head held high and determination in my eyes.

I do not think it means what you think it means. jpg What I am, is one person who is trying to just take the next step.  I am a person that is holding life together through duct tape, tears, and fraying strings.  I am the person that is trying to do what I can with the path thrust upon me.  There is no glory in that. That is what everyone does to survive.

I wish I could say I lean on God so much that He gets the credit.  I have faith that He has a plan for this.  Some days I think I can see a glimmer of the plan.  Other days I think that my life has become a gauntlet of “let’s see what we can throw at her next.”  I want to learn to lean on Him like I see others do.  There are times in my life where that has been so easy.  But right now, right now it is tough.  I feel like Job who has one thing after another taken away, but I am not good like Job.  I can’t see Satan and God using me as an example.  I am just trying to survive the next day, hour, minute, second.

I can’t see ahead.  I can’t see the road.  Heck I do not even know if I am on the road, a cliff of insanity, a fire swamp, or in lightning sand.  I can barely see where my next foot placement goes, and half the time even that is questionable. I do not know if a ROUS (Rodent of unusual size…. Prince Bride references abound in this blog to those that don’t know) is an inch from me.  I keep flinching waiting for the next bite, the next hurdle, the next stress to become visible.

Rodent Of Unusual Size
Rodent Of Unusual Size

I long for the strength I see in others.  I long for their unflinching faith in God.  I want to be able to say “God has it under His control” and mean it deep down in my heart.  I wish to be able to cast my cares on Him and never think twice about them.  I do not question His existence or His love.  I am just not strong enough to hand everything over and let it go.  Maybe I will learn that hard lesson through this, but right now, I just want to rest.

 Can I please just rest?

It would take a miracle


4 thoughts on “Strength. Yeah It’s Not Here.”

  1. Strength does not mean you can not lean, or act as if nothing is happening – just as courage does not mean lack of fear. You are allowed to feel weak, want to hermit, cry, scream, nap… but others see your burden and see only your strength and grace.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I feel the same about strength and courage and such. I have always said ever since I was going to have my colon removed that I never claimed to be strong or courageous or anything like that. Courageous or strong is someone who fights a furious grizzly bear with his bare hands. I’m not like that. I also live in uncertainty wishing everything were more accurate and that I could do everything to ensure survival and quality of life. This does build character I guess. I am proud of my surgery and I wear my ileostomy proudly. I smile about it. The cancer uncertainty… That’s tougher. I hope we can write remembering it in five years. I I hope we die in our sleep older than ninety years of age, happy about everything we did in this unjust and beautiful world.


  3. Yeah it is the uncertainty that gets to me at times. There is no guarentee. I am stage 2 so I have an 85% rate of this not coming back. But I do not trust dice any more, since 90% of people that get this are over 50. But at least I can say I did all I could do.


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