It is saying no but wanting heaven and earth to move out of your way so you can say yes.
It is saying yes knowing the consequences of your decision and accepting the responsibility for both, the answer and the aftermath.
It is bending your will for the sake of another knowing your words cannot convince them of their folly, but vowing to help pick up the pieces.
Standing with you back up against the brick and the hard place knowing the path you are about to walk will yield immediate heartache. In your heart, you will cherish the moments preceding your decision to leave, until you draw your last breath.
Watching your child take her first step, not wanting to, but allowing her to tumble, and then standing out of reach as she wails and waits for you to come, but knowing you cannot. How to get up and try again, and again, is one lesson a parent cannot gift a child. It is self-taught and often fraught with tears of frustration.
Letting go of a piece of yourself –a chance, a person, a dream—knowing in the moment of release your heart will stutter and later howl, but in the loss you’ll hear the sizzle of the setting sun burning into the horizon and see the ascent of a new moon.
It is taking a risk when the odds of success are stacked in favor of karma, because the voice of your sixth sense is singing in your right ear, ‘we are the champions’… and sounding a lot like Freddie Mercury.
It is running at the speed of light—or as fast as your feet can propel you forward— then jumping with reckless abandonment into a mosh pit of possibility or chaos, just because you know there is something at the bottom meant for you to uncover.
It is giving love today, tomorrow, next month, in the moment, as the sun climbs, when the moon sets, as you watch the door shut, after harsh words, when words are not enough, after or before goodbye, between tears, the last kiss, at the wrong time, or just because. But especially when it’s a foregone conclusion that regardless of the quantity, how perfect it seems, how much it means or how perfectly love feels snug on your skin, your heart will break, you’ll still give freely of yourself.
It is standing tall when all you have worked for or believed in is shattered when life is dealing from the bottom of the deck or because of lies another has fed to you. And later, when the tears on your pillow are dried, you’ll draw from a strength you never knew you had and begin anew even though hope flickers with the evening breeze.
It is refusing a compliment or the key to the castle when it comes with a price tag, even if you can make the monthly payments.
It is accepting praise from a foe with humility and the grace of a seasoned diplomat, and waiting until you are behind closed doors for a victory dance.
It is swallowing your pride or falling on a sword for another or a cause not your own but recognizing the value of your sacrifice will lift the spirit for one or many.
It is giving of yourself when there is nothing left to give because you know it’s in the job description of being a mom, a wife, a friend, a woman.
It is looking into the mirror naked—as scary as it is—and loving every line, curve, imperfection, with gratitude.
It is speaking without filters, without an agenda, without expectations, honestly and from your heart.
It is being who you are in mirror by wearing your inside self on the outside.
It is being true to who you always wanted to be, have always been inside, and knowing being unique is sometime a lonely business, but throwing caution to the wind and not giving a damn.
What is your definition of strength?