Strength free essay sample

Question: Select a creative work a novel, a film, a poem, a musical piece, a painting or another work of art that has influenced the way you view the world and the way you view yourself. Discuss the work and its effect on you. The way her overbearing wrinkles read of strain and unnecessary stress. The way a single blanket drapes across her arm, protecting her from nothing but a minor set of chills passing with the wind. The way her children shun any light from entering their weak eyes by hiding behind their mother’s scrupulous, yet broken back. The Migrant Mother by Dorthea Lange is a disheartening picture on the surface, but below its rough exterior it gives a new found hope. Because The Migrant Mother reveals issues that make society seem insignificant in perspective, a thought came upon me: the world is not always fair, it is not always kind, but it is the only world we have and we have to make the best with what it gives us. As she began to grow up, the times spent in the dollhouse gradually came to a halt. We grew apart, but that vision of her future life stuck with me, and soon everything began to fall into place. She had the big, burly husband, the house (although not Victorian), and, to top it all off, she had the baby bump. The vision for her future had now become her reality. But one doctor’s visit later, her reality had morphed into a nightmare. â€Å"A†¦ a what?† My ears picked up the distress in my mom’s voice instantly, and I looked up from my homework as she gently put the phone down and leaned on the kitchen counter for support. Something was wrong. â€Å"Mom†¦Ã¢â‚¬  I said timidly. She took a deep breath and looked up at me with a tear rolling down her cheek. My sister had had a miscarriage, and it took every ounce of my mom’s strength to say it out loud, as if leaving it unsaid made it any less real. I did not expect to see my sister at church for a while because in my weak little mind it was completely reasonable to be angry with God after what had happened. However, my sister came, and she did not merely come just to come; she had come to worship. This continued Sunday after Sunday through miscarriage after miscarriage, and after her fourth, it seemed as if she was worshipping even more wholeheartedly than she ever had before. How? I kept asking myself. Where did she get this inner strength? When I finally asked her these questions that had been plaguing me, she just smiled and simply said, â€Å"Christ. He gives me strength when I am weak.† This simple Biblical truth that I had learned in Sunday school ten years before, when uttered by my sister, now stared me straight in the face. How could this woman, who had lost four babies in the last two years, remain so strong while I gave up at the simplest challenge? She did it through Christ, of course, and I could do it too. My sister, my wonderful sister, spoke the words that utterly changed my definition of weakness and of myself. So, what is my definition of weakness now? Weakness is anything in me apart from Christ. He is my strength.