I was sitting in the salon chair on Friday, waiting for my hair color to set. The women around me were deep in conversation, but I couldn’t join in. My hearing loss makes it nearly impossible to follow group chatter, and without the ability to read lips from that distance, I was left in silence. So I turned my focus to the television across the room. The sound was off, but I could still follow the story through the images on the screen.
On the screen, a young girl had found a nest of goose eggs that had lost their mother. I didn’t know what kind of eggs they were at first. I just watched as she carried them to safety. She opened what looked like an old chest of drawers, lined one drawer with soft material, and pressed little dents so each egg could rest securely. Then she slid open the drawer beneath it and placed inside a utility work light, the kind with a thick cord, a cage around the bulb, and a reflector on the back. Its glow created both warmth and protection, turning her chest of drawers into a homemade incubator.
A few scenes later, the eggs began to hatch. One by one, tiny cracks appeared. The chicks pressed against their shells, struggling and straining until at last they broke free. That was the moment it hit me.
I turned to my stylist and said, “You know, this reminds me of how we go through trials in life. We have to push through our storms to grow stronger, just like those chicks breaking out of their shells. Or like a butterfly pushing out of a chrysalis.”
She said, “Oh yes, that’s true. Everything we go through makes us stronger.”
I laughed and said, “Well, you know I have to write about this, don’t you?”
She grinned. “Yes. Is that what you do? You just write about whatever hits you or whatever comes to mind?”
“That’s exactly it,” I said. “I write about whatever comes to mind, whatever I feel like needs to be said. Everything from how to report bugs on ChatGPT to things like this.” We both chuckled at that.
But I knew it wasn’t just small talk. It was truth.
Because here’s the thing: no one could help those chicks break free. If you tried, you would only weaken them. The very struggle that looked so hard was the process that gave them the strength they needed to live. It’s the same with a butterfly. The fight is what pumps life into its wings.
Later, as I kept watching, I realized they weren’t just any chicks, they were goslings. But by then, the message had already settled into my heart.
Isn’t life the same way for us? None of us would choose loss, heartbreak, illness, or betrayal. We don’t ask for storms, but storms come anyway. And like those eggs that had lost their mother, we sometimes feel abandoned, left to figure things out on our own. Yet the struggle, the pressing, the breaking, the fight… is what forges resilience. It makes us stronger, wiser, more compassionate.
The chick learns to walk. The butterfly learns to fly. And in our struggles, we learn to rise.
So if you’re still inside your shell, pressing against something that feels impossible, hold on. You are not being destroyed. You are being prepared for the life waiting on the other side.
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