The other day, I found myself sitting on the ground pulling weeds.
It was a beautiful morning. The kind where the sun is gentle and the air still carries a little coolness. I hadn’t planned on doing much — just a few unwanted weeds in the grass.
Nothing heavy.
Nothing dramatic.
Just weeds.
The sun warmed my back while a cool breeze lingered. It felt peaceful. Ordinary.
But when it was time to stand back up and move…
I couldn’t.
I shifted my weight.
Planted my hands in the dirt.
Tried to push through my legs.
Nothing.
For a moment, I just stayed there — sitting in the yard, dirt on my hands, heart pounding harder than it should have been.
Ever since neuropathy settled into my feet years ago, things have been different.
I don’t fully trust my balance anymore.
I move more cautiously.
I think before every step.
And without even realizing it, I’ve grown weaker in the middle — in my core.
When your feet don’t feel steady, you compensate.
When you compensate, you move less.
When you move less, muscles quietly fade.
It didn’t happen overnight.
It happened quietly.
Until one day, a few unwanted weeds in the grass become a moment that humbles you.
As I sat there looking at that stubborn patch of green pushing through dry sod, I couldn’t help but wonder…
What’s growing in my center right now?
Is it strength?
Is it fear?
Is it frustration?
Or is it resilience quietly waiting to be strengthened?
I didn’t like sitting there realizing I might need help to get up.
I’ve always been independent… or maybe just stubborn.
Always insisting on being capable.
But that morning reminded me that strength changes… and sometimes pride has to soften before muscles do.
As I sat there, I could almost hear Mom’s voice.
“Use your gut. That’s where your strength is.”
Back then, I thought she meant hold that gut in.
Now I understand she meant something deeper.
Your core is your center.
It holds you steady.
It keeps you balanced.
It gives you the strength to rise.
And somewhere along the way, mine had grown weaker.
Not because I was lazy.
Not because I didn’t care.
But because neuropathy changed how I move.
That morning in the yard was my quiet wake-up call.
Not dramatic.
Just a gentle whisper:
You need to rebuild.
Rebuilding Physical Core Strength
I’ve learned you don’t rebuild strength by proving something.
You rebuild it by practicing small, steady movements.
It can start in a chair.
Sit tall without leaning back.
Hold your posture for 30 seconds.
Breathe.
Slowly stand up.
Slowly sit back down.
Repeat five times.
Lift one knee at a time while seated.
Gently tighten your stomach muscles for 10 seconds, then release.
These exercises don’t look impressive.
But they wake up the deep muscles that help you stand, balance, and rise from the ground.
Even simple strength and balance exercises—like those recommended by the National Institute on Aging—can improve stability and help reduce the risk of falls as we grow older.
If getting down on the floor feels unsafe, don’t start there.
Use a sturdy chair.
Use the kitchen counter.
Ask a physical therapist for guidance.
There is no shame in rebuilding.
There is wisdom in it.
Strengthening the Spiritual Core
But sitting in that grass, I realized something else.
It isn’t just my body that weakens sometimes.
It’s my spirit.
Illness humbles you.
Aging humbles you.
Losing independence humbles you.
You can begin to slouch on the inside.
Bent by frustration.
Bent by fear.
Bent by comparison to who you used to be.
Just like muscles, your spiritual core needs exercise.
Gratitude strengthens it.
Prayer steadies it.
Scripture anchors it.
Surrender realigns it.
Some days, spiritual core strength means standing firm in faith. It reminds me of something Mom used to say — to stand up straight — not just in posture, but in how we carry ourselves through life.
Other days, it means kneeling low and admitting you need help.
Both take courage.
Both take strength.
Eventually, I did get up from the grass.
Not quickly.
Not gracefully.
But I rose.
Maybe that’s what core strength really is.
Quiet. Steady. Returning.
Not the absence of struggle.
But the decision to rise anyway.
⏸️ Let me gently ask you…
How is your core strength?
Physically — do you feel steady?
Spiritually — do you feel centered?
And what’s growing in your center right now?
You don’t have to rebuild everything.
Just one small step.
Because strength doesn’t return all at once.
It comes back quietly.
Faithfully.
From the inside out.
Continuing the Posture & Strength Journey…
This reflection builds on what we began in Stand Up Straight—learning how posture shapes not just our bodies, but how we carry ourselves through life.
Here, we move inward…
to where strength begins.
💌 Join Our Journey
If this reflection felt a little too familiar… you’re not alone.
We are walking this road too — learning how to rise again, how to rebuild what feels weakened, and how to stand firm in faith even when our bodies remind us we are human.
We send a gentle note whenever a new post goes live.
No clutter.
No noise.
Just meaningful reflections, honest moments, and encouragement for whatever season you’re in.
If you’d like to continue this journey with us, click on Join Our Journey, we would love to have you walk with us.
With love,
Wanda & Kim
💛 Mom and Me Moments
Until our moments bring us together again — make every moment meaningful.


Comments
3 responses
I can still see you pulling weeds in your beautiful yard across the street…thank you for the gentle reminder to begin exercising, rebuilding my core and growing my faith.❤️
Thank you! I have been planting all week. It was great to see you wt the wedding. We really enjoyed attending and getting to see Tammy
Boy does this hit me right in my core!!! Never too late to begin! Just what I needed! Thanks for the reminder!!