I spend a lot of time on my deck in my back yard, taking in nature. I love the wind in the trees, watching the seasons unfold from spring to fall, the change of colors from dismal grey to vibrant florals to multiple shades of green.

In the fall, I watch and hear the acorns fall as the squirrels scurry to and fro gathering, eating and storing up. There are only two career paths for an acorn; the ground or a critters stomach. The acorn has an interesting life cycle. It spends the earliest part of its life swinging on a tree branch, high in the air. It overlooks the grass, sees the other trees, communes with the birds that nest in, or rest on its branches. It is surrounded by life and beauty during the most attractive parts of the seasonal cycle.

And then, the fall winds come and the acorn falls from its former lofty position. Worse yet, if not eaten, it gets planted. I say worse, because – for the duration of this little narrative – put your mind in the acorn. See yourself growing in the breeze, attached to the life of the tree. Looking over the valley, or the forest where you’ve been born, taking in the sun, the rain, the plant and animal life blooming and growing all around you. There are songs of birds, chitters of animals; you’re new, young, ambitious and all around you is the abundance of life and your mind is full of hope and opportunity.

And then suddenly, and without ceremony or warning, you’re in dirt. Then it gets cold. And dark. No more beauty, no more colors, no more light, no more life.

We’ve all been there. We’ve had our plans, our dreams, our freshly minted degrees, our brand-new jobs, our new spouse or child. Life was good, life was happening, life was moving according to plan. And then we got blindsided. Sickness, death, setback, loss. Things that came from directions we never anticipated. Injustices that happened to us or to those we love. Storms of life that came out of nowhere, things we never asked for, never wanted and wouldn’t have wished on our enemies.

In those moments, and the days and weeks following – much like the acorn – how will we respond? Will we deem ourselves buried? Or planted?

You see, if you’ve been buried, you’re dead. As humans, we only bury dead things. There’s not much else to talk about here. Buried is death and death is final. BUT – like the acorn, covered in moist, smelly, creepy crawly bug infested dirt – in the darkness and aloneness of the ground, separated from all the gloriousness of its former reality, if we can find the strength to tell ourselves a different story; that we’ve just been planted, not buried, we can turn our dirt into fuel. We can use dirt to change ourselves and our circumstances into better than what was. That planted acorn is on its way to becoming a tree, it just doesn’t know it yet.

Inside that acorn all along was a tree. The acorn didn’t even consider the possibility, it was happy being an acorn. But life had better in store for it, and dirt was the process of getting there. When that acorn follows its genetic code, it goes from drawing life from a tree to becoming a life-giver in its own right. It becomes a producer of other trees, a provider of homes for bugs, squirrels and birds, a shade giver for ground dwellers and strength for soil to produce plants and food for humans and animals alike.

I am not making light of pain or suffering. Loss hurts, and grief is not only real but must be properly processed. But in that process – and it is a process that takes time, care and a lot of hard work – I hope we’re thinking and asking what’s next? I understand that it feels difficult, maybe even impossible; I’ve had dreams shattered and hopes destroyed and wanted to quit. But no matter what we have faced or are facing in life, we must find a way forward, or we truly become buried, and that by choice. Some live the rest of their lives buried. We all know people living buried lives. It is the quintessential “less than” kind of life.

So, here we are in the dirt of life with our hopes or dreams seemingly shattered, wanting to move forward and trying to process the reality of being covered in dirt. We must remind ourselves that this dirt has nutrients. This dirt has power, it has life. You wouldn’t know it to look at it – and when properly fertilized, you certainly wouldn’t know it to smell it – but this dirt that is covering us hasn’t buried us. It’s our source of strength and power for next and better. If you’re reading this and finding yourself covered with the dirt of life, I have good news! You are being prepared for something greater. It’s the function of dirt.

I admire John Elway. I admire his resilience and refusal to quit. He quarterbacked some really strong teams into Super Bowls XXI, XXII and XXIV. And got smoked, 39-20, 42-10 and 55-10. That’s not losing, that’s getting destroyed. After those three losses, it took seven long seasons to get back to the Super Bowl, including going 13-2 as a starter and losing in the 1^st round of the playoffs six years after the last Super Bowl loss.

But he never quit. I’m sure he’d tell you he got down plenty of times. When you’re the best in the league and get knocked out in the 1^st round, that stings. You have to start asking yourself, “Is it meant to be?”. When you lead three teams of men of excellence to the pinnacle of your sport only to crash and burn in front of millions of fans, family and viewers, you have got to have doubts if you have a shred of humanity in you.

But he never considered himself buried. As Daymond John says, Rise and Grind. Elway did it, finally winning Super Bowls XXXII and XXXIII, retiring a champion and ensuring his first ballot entry into the NFL Hall Of Fame. He turned his dirt into his fuel and it powered him to the ultimate level of his sport.

What are we doing with our dirt? Complaining? Protesting? Are we stuck on the unfairness of life, or are we telling life how hard we’re going to hit it in the mouth as we get back up? I am not saying any of this will be easy – matter of fact, I’ll go ahead and tell you it will be hard and it will hurt. A lot. But I will also tell you that it will be possible, and when you look back in triumph, it will have been worth it. If you do not quit, you will win. There is simply no other option. 50 Cent said “Get rich or die tryin’”. There is zero quit in that statement. By the way, he got rich. REALLY rich. Getting richer by the day, still. This after nine bullets were removed from his body after a failed assassination attempt.

In the movie, The Shawshank Redemption, Andy Dufresne had been convicted of a murder he didn’t commit and not only had proof, but even evidence as to who the killer was – the man was right there in the very same prison. The warden wouldn’t hear of it and had the only witness who could testify shot and killed. Andy turned his dirt into the fuel that would not only help him engineer his escape from prison, but prove that the warden was corrupt and had been using his position of power to run a racketeering operation using prisoners as slave labor. In one of the final scenes, on the day of his escape, talking to another prisoner, Red, Andy said “It comes down to a simple choice, really. Either get busy living, or get busy dying.” As Red said, that’s damn right. This is the choice we’re offered when we face the cruelties life can throw at us. Get busy living, or get busy dying. We can be buried, or we can be planted. The choice is ours. Make a good one.