Adversity could be the greatest gift in our life, in retrospect.

Hypothetical:

Your grandfather told you that the greatest gift you could ever receive in your life is adversity. Your days have been marred by the same routine and monotony. You've tried over and over again to escape, to create a new life for yourself–but it's no use. You've never experienced anything different than this, or achieved anything great in comparison to your peers. And yet, on one day when you're least expecting it, a gift drops from heaven onto this world of seeming darkness and despair…and it changes everything forever.

"Adversity," he says to you one day. "The greatest gift in the world that can be given to a man." He seems to see through your exterior, through your imperfections and faults, and straight into the very essence of your soul. He doesn't say much else, but you remember this. You remember this one sentence when you're trying not to give up, when you're trying not to fail again at something that is more important than anything else–to get out of the life being lived by everyone else around you–to finally break out of whatever it is that's holding you back from the person that you truly are.

Your grandfather never told anyone what he meant by adversity. He had his life. He had his routine. He didn't have to give anything more for the time being. It was your turn to figure out what he meant, and out of the many possibilities swirling around in your mind, you finally came to a conclusion: it was all about failure.

"It's all about failure," you say quietly as you look around at everyone else that lives their lives just like everyone else around them. "Doing everything right, and still not reaching the same heights of success as those that haven't failed."

"You've got to fight against yourself," says one of your classmates later that day. "You've got to fight against the weight of all these expectations. You've got to overcome those obstacles you face everyday and overcome them. You've got to stand for something."

"Adversity isn't always bad," another one of your friends says to you as she stands with her hands clasped together. "Sometimes it's the greatest motivation known to man."

She tells you about how every challenge in her life has been a learning experience, how she's overcome adversity by moving forward, and how she's learned more from all of her mistakes than any of her successes have ever been able at doing–how those failures have become rather than have been a great lesson in itself–how overcoming adversity has made the successes that follow even greater.

"Sometimes," she says, "adversity is the greatest gift."

"The greatest gift?" you ask.

"Yes," she replies. "It could be the greatest gift in your life. In retrospect."

And then you get to thinking about it all again, and you say out loud, almost to yourself: "in retrospect."  

You say it again under your breath and then a few more times after that. You can't get it out of your head: in retrospect . . . in retrospect . . .