By Donna Hoffmeyer
(Original post on Medium, Taking Off The Armor)
About 7–8 years ago, we planted a pomegranate tree in a pot and had it on our back patio. We were not very kind to that poor tree; often forgetting to water it. A number of times I was convinced we killed it, only to be surprised it would feebly make a comeback. Granted, it never produced a single pomegranate, but it was able to produce a few green leaves.
A few years later, we decided to plant a fruit plant in our front yard. I told my husband to give the pomegranate tree a chance. It’s in a pot and managed to survive our neglect. I couldn’t imagine it would do any worse in the ground to seek water.
Within months, the plant exploded in growth and even grew a single pomegranate!
That winter Texas had “snowmagedeon”. We tried to cover it to protect it from the elements, but it was not enough. It looked like it had died. We gave it a couple of months to see if it would come back, but no luck. The branches snapped right off. I was heartbroken. The tree we nearly killed in the past, yet still rallied, couldn’t make it through a week of harsh winter weather.
Or so we thought…
We were getting ready to pull it up and replace it when we saw tiny shoots at the very base of the tree. We opted to just cut off the dead branches (which translated to everything but the base) and see what the shoots did. We were excited to see it spring forth to life, yet again. It didn’t have any pomegranate flowers on it and didn’t produce any fruit, but hells bells, it was alive!
One year later (this year), the tree came back in full force, with a bazillion flowers and now a bazillion baby pomegranates. If they all fully mature, the branches will be on the ground with the weight of all this fruit.
This tree was brought to its lowest point many times, and each time came back better.
It is a lesson we should all reflect on.
As we go through life, none of us escape the dings and dents that come with lessons. Sometimes, we only get a teeny bump, barely felt and not even noticeable; other times, the lesson is a direct hit to our crumple zones. It’s crushing, and we’re questioning if we are going to survive.
The critical point is not the lesson, in itself, but rather, how we respond to the lesson.
It doesn’t matter how godawful the situation, or how massive the lesson…we have a choice. Every. Single. Time.
I have a school friend who has lost two stepchildren and one biological child over the past 10 years. One is unimaginable; three is beyond comprehension. If she had curled up and withered away, I would have honestly understood. However, she didn’t. Instead, she has become an advocate, remains kind, uses her talent as a photographer, and shares some of the most amazing nature photos I have ever seen. It is her strength that gives strength to others.
A very active, extremely fit, young service member, diagnosed with cancer, goes into remission and relapses a year later. He comes near the brink of death several times. He worked out religiously, before, during, and after his diagnosis. The only time he stopped was when he was hospitalized, on a ventilator. People thought he was insane. His motto was simple, “Fuck cancer”…and he did. He’s living, and embracing, his best life now. He is still a weightlifting beast, now works for an extreme fitness challenge TV show, married his dream girl, and most recently they had their first child…something he thought was impossible after all the cancer treatment he endured.
I volunteered at a homeless shelter, and the people who were paid staff there all had a story of overcoming drugs and/or alcohol and rebuilding their lives. Everyone voluntarily shared their story with me, except one. We’ll call her Kat.
Kat was a very gentle, quiet lady. She did ministry in the park for the homeless and was adored by many. She would tell me that she didn’t share her story because she was certain I wouldn’t believe her. Just before I left the shelter, I asked her one last time to share her story, and she finally agreed.
Kat had a felony charge and jail time for smuggling assault weapons into the US from Mexico. I believed her, only because who the hell that nice could make up something like that? Somewhere along the way she picked up her pieces and restructured herself into what I was looking at…a very humble, kind, generous, and loving soul who helped so many people at their worst times.
I could give hundreds of examples. The point is, we are going to have low points in our life. It’s not a maybe or possibly, it is a fact…some parts of life are just going to be crappy. There are times when you are going to be deconstructed into just a pile of blocks of randomness and confusion, and it is going to be painful.
This is where the choice comes in. How are you choosing to rebuild those blocks? Are you going to be complacent and put them back in the same pattern? Or, are you going to rebuild your blocks in a new way? Are you going to find a way to build them stronger, with more reinforcement?
If it sounds hard, well, you’re right. It is damn hard.
Don’t think you can do this? Head on over and meet a few people at the Center for the Intrepid (CFI) at Fort Sam Houston in San Antonio, TX. The CFI rehabilitates those with severe burns, amputations, or functional limb loss. Life threw these folks the proverbial flaming bag of dog crap, and yet somehow are figuring out how to grow a flower garden out of it.
One of the best stories told to me by CFI staff was about an army soldier, Rico Roman, with an amputated leg from an IED explosion. He was mentally struggling with his injury and was closed off to any suggestions to help him. He was offered to try sled hockey and initially said was not interested, but eventually decided to give it a try. It was a turning point in Rico’s life. He was immediately hooked and went on to be on the Paralympic National Sled Hockey Team. Their Sochi trophy proudly sits in the CFI and the story has been told to many.
Did any of them want to go through their hell? Rhetorical. Of course not! Who would wake up and think, What a great day to have a traumatic experience that will bring me to my knees and make me question everything about life as I know it to be.?
No. One.
Yet, many of them are thankful; for it is these difficult moments in life that are the cause of the greatest periods of growth. These challenges are what shape us, mold us, re-create us, and even redefine us. Many say they have come back stronger than ever.
Keep in mind, the examples given may be more overt, where people can see the challenge, and can clearly see what the person overcame. However, many challenges are more covert to the naked eye, yet just as great of a challenge to overcome. There is no comparison, only individual journeys.
When we fall apart, we are authentically vulnerable. Not the let-me-show-you-what-I-am-willing-to-let-you-see vulnerable. No no…the complete, raw, everything-on-the-table-take-it-or-leave-it vulnerable. The vulnerable where you ugly cry, shrug your shoulders, and unapologetically say, “Here I am”.
Much like the pomegranate tree, you may need to be dormant for some time to reflect, regroup, and re-energize. Do it! Take it as a gift! A gift of time to bring yourself back together slowly, piece by piece, strategically, and purposefully. So, when you do come back to life, you are ready to share you, and everything you have to offer, with the world. You may not believe it now, but the world is waiting for you to share your gifts.
When we fall apart, we are given the opportunity to rebuild ourselves in unimaginable ways. Just ask my pomegranate tree.
