Skip to main content

Something Worth Fighting For

Confession: I'm a drama queen.

So Michael works full time and goes to school full time. And he's a music major...and if you don't know why that would make matters different, bless you!

Anyway, so I really only see him in passing from Tuesday morning until Sunday (he literally comes in, showers, changes clothes and leaves again).

Thursdays are particularly lonely for me and I always think of this line from Cold Mountain, "If you are fighting, stop fighting. If you are marching, stop marching. Come back to me. Come back to me is my request." I am particularly awful at accents of any sort so even though I say it in my best southern belle accent...I'll spare you.

And then I imagine myself as a delicate southern belle (even though in real life I'd be more suited for the role of Ruby Thewes) at home keeping house, waiting for my soldier who's off fighting some heroic battle. I imagine him reading those words and  walking on beaches and over mountains, eating crawdads and goat meat, being nursed by some old lady with bitter herbs, walking through snow and ice, moving heaven and earth to get back to me...

until finally I hear the roar of a motorcycle engine pull into our driveway.

My soldier is home.

I know, he's not out fighting a literal battle. But he is fighting. He is fighting for our family.

The best part is that he gets to come home often enough so that neither one of us forgets what he's fighting for. Because that's important. There are no deserters here, no giving up because we can't remember what we're fighting for.

This is real. We are real. We aren't perfect but we are redeemed. Redeemed by a fierce God who has fought the battle of the ages and won.

Because this is something worth fighting for.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Who is Gonna Tell the Child?

Last night, for the first time, our family had the privilege of attending an Eagle Scout ceremony. 
Our oldest boys were asked to be a part of the ceremony.  They were put in charge of the ceremonial fire.  Fire.  In a public building full of people and expensive things. FIRE. :)

As a recovering helicopter parent I appreciate situations like this one because I almost always learn something from them.

I've read a lot of parenting books. But in recent years I think that God has really redefined my view of my job as a parent. I see my job as more of a guide. I give them a job, some instructions if/when necessary and then I step back to let them figure it out. It's my job to get them ready to fly off into the sunset without me.

Events like this one often teach me about an area where I haven't given them growing room. So I go away better prepared and more enlightened about what my kids are capable of.

Anyway, one of my favorite parts of the ceremony happened when the young man …

Help Wanted

The other night I saw the movie The Help. I read the book a few months ago and I couldn't put it down!!

While I will admit that I did enjoy the book a bit more than the movie (some of the castings didn't seem quite right to me) I did enjoy both a good deal.

What gets me most in stories like that (and about the Holocaust) is not the actual perpetrators of the crimes...because they actually are deluded into thinking they are right (and as much as I hate to admit it...and I pray it is not to that grotesque extent...we all have blind spots). What gets me is the people who see that the crimes are wrong but are too afraid of what will happen to them or what their friends will think if they actually do the right thing (like Skeeter's mother).

Well, I know you'll probably find this dramatic...but from what I hear people who blog tend to be on the dramatic side...so...I guess it's to be expected.

Today while I was walking home from my 5k training there was a woman unloading…

Exhibit A

Being the mom of five wild indians makes my life interesting.

Exhibit A:

Yesterday I loaded them all into our Wild Indian Wagon and stopped to get gas.

Okay, so apparently our local fillin' station has had problems with people leaving the pump nozzles clicked down and spilling gas everywhere so they took the little whatchamacallits that hold the trigger on the nozzle down off. And a 47 gallon tank  takes a while to fill when you've run the tank purty near empty.

Meanwhile...back at the ranch...err...back inside the Wild Indian Wagon...my very wild Wild Indians decided to reenact Custer's Last Stand...on a very small scale since I'm pretty sure Custer and the Native Americans had a much larger space to battle it out in than the backseat of a Suburban.

I'm pretty sure you couldn't get hydraulics to make that thang move in the way it was moving. For reals...you know in cartoons when a group of kids gets into a fight and all you see is a cloud? There's a reaso…

Gettin' Real

It's no secret that I was pregnant when I got married (I do want to be clear, getting pregnant was not the sin, the actions that led to it are).  I'm pretty open about it.  Not because I'm proud, I am absolutely NOT proud of it.  But it's my past.  It's my story. It's my mess. It's part of the story of how God has redeemed my life from the pit.

I am saved. My sins are gone, I've been set free.

I'm still learning to live in a constant state of free-ness...I have a tendency to fall under my own condemnation. It's a work in progress! I am a work in progress.

Here's the deal though, I want to speak to those who might find themselves in a cycle of sin similar to the one I found (actually, I didn't FIND anything, I PUT myself there...let's just be honest about it) myself in. I know that the chances of this helping anyone are slim. I'm not eloquent and typically only the people who really love me even read what I write. But I want to s…

Rejected!

I received a rejection letter today.

Before you feel the need to comfort me, please know that I'm completely fine.

A while back I learned that (in)Courage was accepting submissions for blog posts to be used on their site. It needed to be something original that had not been previously published and it should fit the tone for the site and the theme for the time frame it would be published.

I immediately wanted to submit something. I wanted honest feedback about my writing from someone who doesn't already love me or like me or feel connected to me in some way. But I decided that I was not going to submit anything unless I felt prompted by God to do it. I wasn't going to force it. (On a side, but relevant, note I'm actually not sure if I stuck to this decision. I'm still asking God to open my eyes to blindness and denial...so He may reveal to me that I didn't wait for Him at all...that I jumped ahead in my own timing instead of His.)

So one night I sat down and wr…