Strength in Weakness

While playing with a squishy ball, my child says, “I’m not strong enough.” Further investigation reveals that she was trying to break the squishy ball by squeezing it really, really hard. It wasn’t working. When something is living its purpose, it’s not easily broken.

She goes on to say, “It’s like when I tried to lift the couch—I wasn’t strong enough to do that either.”

“My dear,” I tell her, “you weren’t supposed to be lifting the couch. It’s too heavy for you.”

I gain new understanding. In weakness there is strength. I always thought that Paul’s Corinthian scripture was about God stepping in where I thought I was weak. What I understand now is that, whether She steps in or not, I shouldn’t be doing the things I don’t have the strength to do; the things that are too heavy for me.

What’s heavy for me may not be heavy to someone else. I can leave what I’m too tired—too “weak”—to carry, and have faith that, if it needs carrying, someone else with their own strength will pick it up.

If that’s true, weakness is a beacon:

a fire—a light set up in a high place or prominent position as a warning, signal, or celebration.

Weakness is a guiding light.

Every narrative denigrating weakness, especially those patriarchal ones, are quite literally

misguided.

When she gets older and finds her own place, my child may have to lift a couch. But by then, she’ll have all the strength she needs just because she kept on growing, ojala.

Weakness can also guide our years; signaling not just what to carry or let go, but when to move or stay in place.

That’s good news to me!

Rejoice in your weakness for it will guide you to the very things you must release.

Release not because you are incapable or inadequate, but because the load is simply too heavy for you at this moment in time. Let your “weakness” guide you to your strength—the place where you have all you need to carry your particular load.

May your load be light. May you receive all you need as you release what is not yours to carry. Ase.