It was a straw that broke her.

The load she carried seemed to highlight her strength until an insignificant straw made her crumble beneath it's weight. How quickly her strength changed to fragility.

"When I am weak, He is strong" was easy to believe when she felt strong—when the load had not yet overpowered her. But then her weakness became stronger than her strength, so hope, faith, and trust became the struggle.

His strength was supposed to be made perfect now that she knew her weakest link. Though she looked for it, it was yet to be seen. Hopelessness seemed more powerful than hope. She saw nothing tangible enough for her faith. Trust was shattered in her broken moment. Hope, faith, and trust all seemed foolish now.

But what is hope? What is faith? What is trust? Their truest measure is certainly not revealed when one still has a leg left on which to stand.

She saw nothing beneath her to catch her. But she had no strength left and knew she was going down. She collapsed into a disillusioned mess.

But she still looked for His hand to show up; she still believed He would catch her; she still trusted He would break her fall. That's real trust, real faith, and real hope! It's the very act of His strength being made perfect in weakness.

She lay in a heap beneath the little thing that had brought her to her knees, Her self-reliance no longer in tact to do the lifting. But His strong, gentle hands held on to her.

It was the straw that brought her to this moment that changed everything.