We often spend years asking why. Why did this happen to me? Why was I born this way? Why can’t life be easier? Those questions don’t always come with quick answers, but sometimes, after a lifetime of struggle and reflection, clarity begins to emerge.
For those born with a visible difference or disability, childhood can feel like a battlefield. Every game on the playground, every classroom moment, seems to spotlight what sets you apart. Instead of being celebrated for what you can do, the world is quick to remind you of what it thinks you can’t. I learned that lesson early.
But here’s the surprising truth: the very thing I once saw as a curse became one of my greatest sources of strength. Having only one hand didn’t mean I was less capable—it meant I had to approach life differently. Where others relied on convenience, I relied on creativity. Where others saw obstacles, I learned to see opportunities.
Growing up, it wasn’t easy. Being underestimated hurt. Watching friends get picked for teams while I stood waiting was discouraging. And yet, every moment I was pushed aside became fuel. I discovered ways to adapt, to invent, to find my own path forward. Resilience became second nature, because I had no other choice.
What I didn’t realize at the time was that God was answering my why in a way I couldn’t yet understand. The difference I saw as a limitation was, in fact, a lesson. It slowed me down just enough to notice people others ignored. It gave me empathy for those who felt overlooked or cast aside. It made me stronger—not in spite of my challenge, but because of it.
In Young Hood to Our Father Hood by Drew Castagna, the author reflects on this same question: why would God allow him to live with one hand? His story offers a powerful perspective—that God doesn’t make mistakes. What feels like a burden in one season of life can reveal itself as a blessing in another. Strength isn’t always about muscle or ability. Sometimes it’s about perspective, patience, and faith.
The greatest lesson I’ve learned is that strength is not measured by what you lack but by what you do with what you’ve been given. Having one hand has never meant living with half a life. Instead, it has meant living a life of determination, learning to solve problems creatively, and relying on faith when I felt weak.
If you’ve ever asked why me?, I want you to know—you’re not alone. Your struggle may not look like mine, but your strength is being forged in the same way: through the challenges that test you, the setbacks that humble you, and the faith that carries you forward.
Perhaps the better question isn’t why did this happen? but what is this teaching me? For me, the answer is simple: God gave me one hand, but through it, He taught me the meaning of true strength.