I see her everyday—my snake plant.

She is hearty, tall and still growing, even after a chunk of her structure was recently taken out.

She reminds me of me, and of you—a hearty, strong creation yet fragile and breakable.

She is rooted and watered and turns her face toward the sunlight each day, no matter how much sun decides to shine through her window.

I envy this because I don’t always turn my face the same way. You see, life hurts sometimes,and rather than turning toward the light, sometimes I hide in the dark.

Today I paid special attention to her wound.

Wounds. We all have them.

I saw the bandaid-attempt her uniquely designed makeup tried to use to conceal the cracked, brown edges, and I wondered if she too felt pain from the piece of her that’s missing.

It wouldn’t surprise me if she did. You see, sometimes I still feel pain from the pieces of me that are missing.

As I stared at her awestruck, I also saw she was sturdy and strong. She was immovable and still standing regardless of the pain, and I was reminded of what the scriptures say.

“A bruised reed he will not break…” Isaiah 42:3

I looked at this bruised plant and was reminded of my bruised heart and yours, too. I realized that although we may be bruised, we’re not broken. And although we may be cut, we are not crushed. And no matter how dark life’s circumstances may seem, it’s in the dark where we are rooted and grow—though sometimes it doesn’t feel that way.

Today, I pray you see yourself in her, too. Wounded but strong. Rooted in the dark, yet immovable.

And still standing.

I see her everyday—my snake plant. And today we turned toward the light together.