worthy of our sufferings.

"They must not lose hope but should keep their courage in the certainty that the  hopelessness of our struggle did not detract from its dignity and meaning" Viktor Frankl, Man's Search for Meaning

I feel that my life has been stolen from me. It didn't happen all at once, but so slowly and in much the same way that a plant dies. The petals fall day by day until finally, all that is left is a sad, lifeless stalk that once seemed to radiate with beauty.

I blame New York for the thievery. I came here on a dollar and a dream, so sure that this is where my life would actualize. So sure that this was were I would become my truest self, where I would buy back all the years that I felt were wasted on a person that was only waiting to be born.

But the opposite has happened. And honestly, who of us can look at our life and feel that we are where we thought we would be at this time? Life is full of regret, and very little satisfaction. We wander, restless down to our bones and unsure that we will ever be filled. We search, earnestly, for that which can bring us life.

We search.

And sometimes, we remember. We find that which we clung to in difficulties before, we find what our souls were made to take comfort in. But we also find that we have new questions, new sufferings. We think we have learned, adjusted to the path that we have journeyed on for so many lonely years. But this is life, and we never will get a perfect score. We keep learning, keep growing, keep facing new challenges until we realize--life does not get easier.

We must get stronger.

So we linger on the other side of resiliency, staring at the road before us and trying to find a way to cut corners. We want anything but to go through it, to face whatever it is that we fear most, We want to be able to look it in the eye and proudly stand straight and tall--to go into battle with our heads lifted high, but this is no easy task. It's certainly not for the faint of heart or for the easily distracted. It requires determination and focus, it requires fortitude. It requires us to look beyond ourselves and our immediate sufferings, to realize that our sufferings can impact change. To acknowledge that though our pain threatens to take us under, it is our pain that eventually leads us to rise.

And in this place, it is not hope that propels us forward. It is faith. Faith that our suffering does in fact produce perseverance.  And that perseverance, though it bleeds us dry, will eventually construct character out of the dust our weary feet have left behind.. Because hope is not born out of knowing where we are going.. It is born out of not knowing anything at all, except that light always overcomes the darkness.

Frankl speaks constantly of "being worthy of our sufferings". And in this small insight, he has named our entire existence--to have courage, to hope in the face of insurmountable odds, to believe that there is dignity and grace and meaning that makes our struggle worthwhile.

This week, one of my clients said (with little words and profound wisdom) that our time spent wandering the desert would come to a close much quicker  if we just acknowledged why we were there in the first place. Though I've studied Isaiah many times, there was something about the sincerity of this statement and the humility in his understanding of it that struck me by surprise. Not necessarily why we were there, insomuch as the things that may have edged us closer to our own particular  wasteland. But why we were there--the meaning for our lives and the lives of those around us. What we were meant to accomplish in the desert, what we are meant to create.

Because, to grow something out of pain--to see a bloom rising up out of the cracks and in spite of its environment, that is true hope. It is one that has been firmly rooted and is ready to weather the elements.

It is hope that cannot be taken away from us, for generations to come. It can be passed down, passed around and instilled in those around us.

And just like wildflowers, once it takes flight, it cannot be stopped. It is infectious and true in the best possible way, it is all-encompassing.

So that very slowly, but with great certainty, the desert is outgrown--leaving behind a garden bursting with more life than we ever dreamed or imagined--leaving behind evidence of what we so craved and never thought we would achieve:

a reason to hope.