Brilliance in the Trench

“April has been a long year.”

I’ve said these words more times than I care to admit over the last few weeks. A barrage of bad news and compounding challenges brought a feeling of overwhelm unlike any I have ever experienced before.

On one of those dark days, I tried to describe to a loved one how I was feeling. I felt as though I was standing on a platform with a small cup of water in my hand while watching a train that was completely engulfed in flames speed down the tracks.

I felt helpless beyond belief. I was afraid of what could possibly happen next. I was shocked at how quickly and drastically life could change. And, perhaps the hardest part…I felt anguish over being so far away from loved ones who needed support in so many ways.

It would have been easy to lose all hope and to yield to despair. But, through it all, there was a sustenance that I cannot explain. Yes, there was a numbness, but there was also a resilience. Yes, the days and nights are hard, but there is a growing strength.

As if the whirlwind of events wasn’t enough, one night in the middle of it all our fridge/freezer stopped working. It was a problem that paled in comparison to everything else that was on my proverbial plate, but it was a problem nonetheless; one which brought with it too many impracticalities to be ignored. As my husband and I set out early the next morning to find a replacement, we weren’t prepared for how difficult a task that would be. Apparently our ‘old faithful’ is an outdated make, model and colour and so we visited much more stores than we had initially anticipated in an attempt to find an appliance that would match the rest of our space.

As we exited yet another store empty-handed, we had to walk around a gaping trench in the sidewalk to get to our car. There was rubble on both sides of the hole, but not a workman in sight. For whatever reason, this trench seemed to have been untouched for a very long time. The caution tape erected around the site was old and faded and there was no indication that works would recommence any time soon or that the pavement would eventually be restored.

As I carefully walked past the open trench, something caught my eye. Growing out of the side of the concrete drain was a single stalk bearing bright green leaves and two brilliantly coloured flowers. The sight caused me to stop suddenly in the middle of the road and stare. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

Hardly a place of nourishment and growth, this plant had somehow found exactly what it needed in order to thrive.
Barely a footing yet standing tall and firm, its beauty was pronounced by the rubble all around it.

“Wait!” I called out to my husband as he walked up ahead. “I need to take a picture of this!”

“Of a drain??” he enquired, watching me as though the stress of the last few weeks had finally gotten to me. I looked at him in awe…he hadn’t seen it! That which most brazenly caught my eye was so easily missed by someone walking right beside me.

I smiled and turned my attention back to the brilliance in the trench. I was painfully yet peacefully reminded that there is a delicate dichotomy to life:

That we could feel helpless and yet hopeful.
That we could experience fear deep within our bones and yet stand firmly grounded in faith.
That we could grieve immensely and yet rejoice in new-found life.
That we could be miles apart from the ones we love and yet bound closely together with chords that cannot be broken.
That we could understand with a rational mind and yet pray for a miracle.
That we could look at the rubble piling up all around us and yet miss the brilliant colours of hope that manage to grow through the cracks.

Although the challenges of April have left our hearts filled with grief and wondering what comes next, I have a peace in my heart. A peace that knows that there can be joy in the midst of sorrow and that there can be laughter in the midst of tears. A peace that knows that even the darkest of nights have an end and that the sun will rise with brilliance once again on the horizon. A peace that knows that there is promise in tomorrow, hope for today and that I am only expected to take it one moment at a time.

And so, I take this one, hard moment and I fully lean into it; determined to look for that which is so easily missed if I don’t allow myself to sit with those difficult feelings on those darkest of days.

Determined not to miss the brilliance in the trench.