April 9, 2008 @ 2:15 pm | Filed under: Soul Food,Uniquely Me

I’ve been thinking quite a lot about strength lately. 

Strength comes in all shapes, forms, and sizes. Sometimes it is expected and then, sometimes, it simply catches you unaware.

I know that I am strong, even if certain days have me doubting it.

I am strong willed. I have strong faith. I am strong-minded, strong-tempered. I have strong passions. I love strongly.

Knowing that I am strong and yet still being  painfully aware of some vulnerable spots has me thinking a lot today about the various kinds of strengths and what they mean.

I think of my grandmother. If ever there was a strong woman, it is Mama. Without a doubt. These past few months have been among the very first times that her children have seen her cry.

I’ve watched her these past six months or so and have seen the strong woman I know her to be now housed in such a frail, unstable condition. I’ve witnessed her reaching out to Dad (my grandfather), her partner of 65 years, and not being afraid to say that she wanted him close, that his hand felt so good enclosed over hers. I saw the looks that passed between them and, in that moment, so much became ultra clear to me.

While she has always been so strong – so in control – he has been her backbone, her rock, silently supporting her strong nature. These past few months – during these moments of uncertainty and fear –  he has emerged openly as the hero that only she has known all these years. He has ridden in and been a true (though untraditional) knight, caring for her in the most gentle, caring way possible.

So even strong women need a safe place to land their hearts.

And then I’ve observed Auntie lately. On some days she is so uncharacteristically quiet and somber, as she has quietly tended to her sister’s bedside. My mind goes back to a few months ago when I sat across the table from her. We had just finished a meal and were merely sitting, chatting, much like any aunt and niece might do.

“I come from a family of strong women.” I looked at her and nodded for emphasis. “I only hope that I can be half as strong as you and Mama.”

I did not expect her response, and the look in her eyes and the weight of her words are forever carved into my mind.

“We’re not always as strong as we seem.” Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears and her lips trembled as she spoke the words. “Sometimes it’s the strong ones who hurt the most.”

I remember feeling my heart break as I looked at her and realized that I had never taken the time to look past that wall of strength. The very wall that had her taking care of others even as she walked through the darkest storm of her life. The strength she exuded had somehow excluded her from being human, from having the same hurts, troubles, and lapses that we all have.

So even strong women need to let down their walls every so often.

I’ve observed my mom these last months as she moved about Mama’s hospital room, rearranging her pillows and helping her sip Coke through a straw. I watched as she took lotion and carefully, lovingly, massaged Mama’s feet. The love was evident with each stroke of her hand and I had to look away, overcome with emotion for both of these women.

I know my mom better than most. I know that her tired eyes and sharp words are merely visible signs of a battle going on deep inside her. The battle to somehow balance the need to be the daughter and the need to be the caretaker. She is on the very cusp of one day in the not so distant future being the matriarch of our family. I watch as she ministers to her own mother, disregarding her own needs and her own health.

I don’t think she realizes it yet, but she’s walking in the footsteps of some very strong women. And – with every step she takes – she is becoming a woman of admirable strength. A woman that I’m very proud – very honored – to call my mom.

So even strong women struggle to find balance in their lives.

Finally, my mind goes to my mother-in-law, the precious mother of my Mike. I didn’t come to know this woman until her twilight years but it was immediately apparent to me that her gentle compassionate spirit and her graciousness are her own personal strengths.

I sat in her tiny living room not long ago, sharing a pot of coffee and perusing a basket of pictures, listening as she talked about her sisters and their recent out-of-state trip together. I glanced around her living quarters, marveling at how concisely a lifetime worth of memories was crammed into this tiny space.

Pictures of the father-in-law I was never fortunate enough to meet, momentos of the one, once-in-a-lifetime cruise they took together, a photo of her eldest son, whose life ended at the young age of only nineteen. A pain no mother should ever have to endure. And yet – though life has been anything but gentle to her at times, she has risen above her circumstances and is truly one of the happiest, most genuine people I know.

So strong women take the blows from this life and then rise above them.

Today I sit here with a full heart, knowing only these things for sure:

Strong women need a safe place to land their hearts.

Strong women need to let their walls down every once in a while.

Strong women still struggle to find the balance in their lives.

Strong women rise above the winds of this life.

I still don’t have the balance totally right in my own life. I may spend this lifetime trying to get it right, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t glean even more strength in the process. To love and be loved, to give just because it pleases you to please others.  To find grace and dignity amid your own faults and shortcomings. To care enough about yourself and about those you love to keep trying.

That is strength.

That is what I want.