There are days that don’t look like much on paper, but to me, they are everything.
These are the days that end up meaning the most.
Tot and I went to see the Minion movie, and honestly, I think half the fun was just being together. The dark theater, the ridiculous little yellow guys, the silly faces, the shared laughs.
She still can’t wait to drive.
She got behind that arcade steering wheel like she was already headed somewhere important.
And I get it.
But I also want to freeze her right here.
Her eyes are just intoxicating to me.
I know every mama thinks this about her child, but there is something about Tot’s eyes.
And then there was Rio.
Our fun, vivacious little Rio. That bird has no idea how much personality can fit inside such a tiny body.
Then came the red, white, and blue.
Paint on the cheek. A patriotic popsicle. A little early excitement as we get ready for America’s 250th birthday.
This is what I love most.
SIMPLE
A movie screen full of Minions. A silly arcade game. A popsicle melting in her hand. Rio being Rio. Tot being Tot.
Because I know these years are moving. I know she is getting taller and older and closer to the day when she really will drive away in a real car, with real keys, toward a real life that God is unfolding for her.
My daughter once learned about a butterfly fighting its way out of a chrysalis. Like any tender-hearted child, she wanted to help it break free. She saw the struggle and wanted to make it stop. She wanted to open the way, free the butterfly, and rescue it from what looked like unnecessary difficulty. But the teacher explained that the struggle was not a mistake in the process. It was part of the process.
The butterfly needed to press and push and fight its way out because that very struggle was helping its wings develop. To release it too soon would not save it. It would weaken it. Isn’t that what we want to do with struggle?
We want to get out of it as quickly as possible. We want someone to fix it, explain it, remove it, or rescue us from it.
Yes, sometimes, help is good and necessary. I am not talking about pretending pain does not hurt or refusing the support we need. But I am learning that not every struggle is proof that something has gone wrong. Sometimes the struggle is the place where strength is being formed.
The same is true for a tree.
Wind may look like the enemy, but wind teaches the tree to root deeper. A tree that never faces resistance does not become stronger. It becomes fragile. But a tree with deep roots can withstand storms that would have once taken it down.
Maybe we are more like that than we want to admit. We were not designed to live unmoved by resistance. We were designed to grow through it.
Now, I don’t want to romanticize suffering like it’s something we should embrace and celebrate. Especially health struggles. I would not wish health struggles on anyone. Chronic illness can steal time, energy, confidence, plans, and pieces of the life you thought you would be living. It can feel less like a meaningful lesson and more like being grounded from your own life.
Many days, I don’t feel inspired by the struggle. Truly, I’m just exhausted and sad.
But if I look back at pictures of myself from years ago, I see a girl who had no idea what it meant to suffer in this way. I do not judge her for that. I love her. She was doing the best she knew how to do. But I also see something now that was not there then.
I see deeper roots.
I see more compassion. More dependence on God. I see more of a heart for people who are carrying pain. I also see more gratitude for ordinary moments and awareness that strength is not always loud and fancy. No, usually strength is simply staying tender when life gives you every reason to become hardened. That is part of the struggle too.
But here’s the thing that I have realized: The thing that feels like it is breaking us may also be the place where God is making us.
Struggle, whatever it looks like for you, will never fully disappear on this side of heaven.
The wind keeps coming. The roots keep growing. The chrysalis gives way, but only after the fight. Becoming is not instant, and growth is rarely painless.
The question is not whether we will struggle.
We will.
Jesus told us plainly, “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world” (John 16:33).
So maybe the better question is this: What will the struggle form in us?
Will it make us bitter or brave? Hardened or tender? Fearful or rooted? Childlike in our dependence on God, or childish in our refusal to grow?
I am not saying everything that is hard is good. I do not believe God delights in our suffering. But I do believe God can use what He allows, and that with Him, even the hardest things can form something holy in us.
I believe God can bring good from every hard thing.
That, my friend, is my hope. It has to be.
The wind does not get the final word. The cocoon is not the end of the story. The struggle is not always where life is being taken from us.
Sometimes, somehow, by the grace of God, it is where the wings are being made.
