I'm so thankful for that struggling period. That time is really

Hear now the words of Abbi Jacobson, spoken with the clarity of one who has walked through uncertainty and found its hidden treasure: “I’m so thankful for that struggling period. That time is really great where you have no idea what’s going to happen.” These words, though modest, carry the strength of an ancient oracle. For they remind us that the seasons of doubt, the nights without stars, and the wandering roads of confusion are not curses, but gifts wrapped in hardship, shaping us into beings of endurance and vision.

The essence of the struggling period lies in its mystery. To not know what is ahead is to stand at the edge of the unknown, the same abyss faced by explorers, inventors, and dreamers throughout the ages. Fear whispers here, but so too does possibility. In such moments, the soul is sharpened like a blade, tested in the fire of doubt, and tempered by endurance. Jacobson does not despise this uncertainty—she calls it great. This is wisdom, for she sees what many fail to recognize: that the soil of struggle grows the deepest roots of strength.

The ancients themselves bore witness to this truth. Recall the story of Odysseus, tossed upon the seas for twenty years, never knowing what awaited him on the next shore. Monsters, storms, or salvation—each day was a mystery. Yet it was this long time of struggle that forged his cunning, his patience, his will to endure. When at last he returned to Ithaca, it was not the man who had left for Troy, but one made greater by the long years of hardship. In Jacobson’s words, we hear the echo of Odysseus’ journey: to be thankful not despite the uncertainty, but because of it.

Her gratitude reveals a powerful truth about time itself. The seasons of certainty, where all is known and stable, bring comfort but little growth. It is the uncharted moments, the paths without maps, that call forth creativity, resilience, and vision. To have “no idea what’s going to happen” is to live at the frontier of life itself, where possibility is infinite. In the crucible of the unknown, the human spirit awakens its hidden powers.

The origin of Jacobson’s thankfulness is humility—an understanding that struggle is not punishment but preparation. The hardship she speaks of did not destroy her; it shaped her path, refined her craft, and gave her the strength to seize the opportunities that later came. Like the blacksmith who strikes iron until it glows, life struck her with uncertainty until her spirit burned bright. And she, unlike many, recognized the gift within the blow.

What lesson then shall we, the listeners, take from this teaching? That when we walk through the dark valleys of uncertainty, we must not despair. We must not curse the time when nothing is clear, but instead embrace it, knowing it is the fertile ground from which wisdom, courage, and success will spring. To be thankful for struggle is to strip it of its sting and transform it into strength.

Practical wisdom flows from her words: when you face a struggling period, do not cling only to fear. Journal your journey, for one day you will see its pattern. Surround yourself with companions who remind you of your worth, even when the road is unclear. Train your mind to look for the lessons hidden in uncertainty, for every challenge carries within it a seed of growth. And above all, practice daily gratitude, even for the storms, for they are the winds that carry you to new horizons.

Thus, the words of Abbi Jacobson become not merely a reflection on hardship, but a hymn to the unknown. She teaches us that the greatest gifts often come wrapped in shadows, that the most fertile fields are watered by tears, and that the road of struggle leads, if walked with gratitude, to the summit of strength. Remember, then: when you do not know what tomorrow holds, rejoice—for you are standing in the very place where destiny is forged.