Some people think that strength must be seen to be real. These sorts seek to be the loudest, the biggest, the most obtrusive, in any room. They point out their strength to others by making stories of hard times harder in the telling, by exerting authority over people when they have none, by manipulating situations, by being bullies in word and deed. If others are seen as less, then they are more, they are the MOST.
They are strong…and everyone must know it.
But real strength is not like this. Real strength does not exist to be noticed. It exists because it must, because ordinary people are put through extraordinary events and they choose to not let the hard kill them.
Real strength is in the daddy who toils away long hours to put food in bellies.
Real strength is in the friend who holds your hand while you cry and doesn’t feel the need to say anything because some pain must be acknowledged to be healed.
Real strength is in the mama who says goodbye to her baby on the same day she ushered him in to the world.
Real strength is in the honest sinner/saint unafraid to tell his story, uninterested in impressing anyone with it.
Strength, the real kind, is not an act. It is not something to strive toward nor something the very strong think on much, if at all. Strength is lived out in a life that does not seek self-serving, eye-catching, people-pleasing feats, but seeks to walk valiantly in the mundane, fighting unseen battles without an army.
Real strength is quiet. Subtle. Whisper-like.