The strongest trees I've seen grew right out of cracks in the rocks. Not around them, not near them... through them. The roots that hold tightest aren't always the ones reaching for easy soil. Sometimes it's the constant, quiet pressure that shapes them, making them strong enough to hold on through the storm. The cracks are just the reminder that strength isn't about perfection; it's about enduring. I've learned to see the places where I'm most broken as holding the most potential. The scar tissue is never as tender as the skin that never knew the wound.