Battered yet undeterred

“Out of defeat can come the best in human nature. As Christians face storms of adversity, they may rise with more beauty. They are like trees that grow on mountain ridges — battered by winds, yet trees in which we find the strongest wood.”
Billy Graham

How nice to meet someone so undeterred by things like. . .reality.
The Lorax

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(the first post freezing quince bloom–looking worse from winter’s wear / Julie Cook / 2015)

The Psalmist cries. . .
“Hear me oh Lord. . .”

Cries of anguish, pain, sorrow, emptiness, suffering. . .

The Psalmist also speaks of joy. . .
Joy is longed for and joy is infectious. . .
Praise and alleluias are easily multiplied. . .
Everyone wants in on happy, joy, uplifting, good, glad. . .

It is, however, to the other. . .
to those deep groanings of the suffering soul and spirit. . .
the laminations, the cries, the wailing, the tears, the sorrow. . .
of which, alone we will all eventually find ourselves.

It is a dry place of solitude, oneness, singleness and loneliness
It is a place that is gritty, dirty, uncomfortable
It is the furnace ready to refine. . .

Yet this place of isolation,
this place of misery,
this deeply troubling place of peril
and of anguished sorrow. . .
is also the place in which character is forged.
It is the place where the knowledge of self is realized–
for good or for bad. . .

Crisis crashes down upon crisis
Weary roads traversed
stop and go, stop and go
wills are battered
hearts are bruised
bodies fail
sewage spills forth in a torrent of rage
as money flees through the broken glass

Personalities clash,
while the like minded work in tandem
Step by step, one foot forward
Sinister lurks in the shadow, composing its agenda
Controlling, one way, the only way
Demanding will not yield its way
Selfish will not have the last word

Having been hit broadside. . .
Blindsided by mayhem, confusion and hatefulness
Caught in a place of no control and no return
Nearly broken, battered, hurting. . .
yet decidedly undeterred. . .

A little while, and the wicked will be no more;
though you look for them, they will not be found.
But the meek will inherit the land
and enjoy peace and prosperity.
The wicked plot against the righteous
and gnash their teeth at them;
but the Lord laughs at the wicked,
for he knows their day is coming.
The wicked draw the sword
and bend the bow
to bring down the poor and needy,
to slay those whose ways are upright.
But their swords will pierce their own hearts,
and their bows will be broken.

Psalm 37:10-15

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Delicate and Tiny — Fragile and Broken — Yet– Undeterred

The voice of conscience is so delicate that it is easy to stifle it; but it is also so clear that it is impossible to mistake it.
Madame de Stael

Delicate
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(cabbage white butterfly / Georgia / Julie Cook / 2014)

Tiny

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(cabbage white butterfly basking on the basil / Georgia / Julie Cook / 2014)

Fragile
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(cabbage white butterfly / Georgia / Julie Cook / 2014)

Broken
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(cabbage white butterfly / Georgia / Julie Cook / 2014)

Undeterred
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(cabbage white butterfly / Georgia / Julie Cook / 2014)

Despite its delicate nature,
the smallness of its size,
its obvious fragility,
and the brokeness of a wing. . .
This most gentle of creatures continued, undeterred,
traveling from leaf to flower–
from flower to grass–
doing what it knows best to do. . .
which is simply to
fly.

May you continue to fly despite your
delicate state,
your seemingly insignificant life’s stature,
your fragile state of being,
your brokeness of body. . .
Remain undeterred as you continue doing what
only you know best to do—
which is simply to
live.
Blessed are the hearts that can bend; they shall never be broken.
Albert Camus