Pounding Heart—

We all have epic moments of terror during our lives that insight trauma in our minds….

Pounding Heart…. Pounding Head……..thoughts throb one cumbersome mess at a time, my blood runs cold then hot with each surge through my veins….

“This cannot be happening. This is not real. Bad dreams come and go”, I say– as if to comfort myself amidst the unprecedented evil turn of events that I am facing. “you will rise…. be strong and courageous– Do not cower or quiver under the strain– use your head, be rational” I state aloud, while trying to make a case that rational thought will explain the piercing reality of pain away.

Grief comes in waves of grey and blue with an occasional red blast of hot stinging pins to my heart…
I close my eyes and wish that sleep or a waking comma will take me from reality for a little while. My soul needs rest, my mind needs Peace. Then I wonder….maybe God keeps me from ultimate rest because my battle has been (continues to be..) so intense over the last several years, that if I rested or fell asleep- then I would lose my edge. So possibly I am kept in a state of vigilance to protect me from the ever- present destroyer and his brood of evil doers that lurk nearby.

People say…. “you can’t ever be too careful– plan for the worst so you will be prepared”.  I did not do that. I believed in the good, the hard worker and the truth of loyalty. I have not chosen negativity and brooding distrust because I possess this undying expectation that there is joy and happiness to be found. I believe in what others are CAPABLE of and push them to that excellence. I choose to see the glimmer of hope in a grey environment. The sun does not shine daily, but the warmth once felt can be harnessed in one’s soul for the dark days. I choose to believe Love always wins and rules in the end; love will cover the wounds of the broken. I trust that there is rest for the weary and heavy laden…. but in reality, many are weary and I am stronger than most.  My testing is brutal, my wounds bleeding, but my heart pounds strong and undaunted by the thunder of the storm. Is this my downfall? This undying hope, the atrophy of a relentless warrior spirit? I was born for war…. I dare not struggle to choose weakness now.

All questions loom and swirl, but most will not be answered. The plight of a warrior is to forge on through the battle that rages one dark wave after another. Victory will be derived from building a sequence of small victories. Today the victory is as small as Breath, Body Armour, light to see the enemy and food for the soul from the encouragement of a friend.

Take heart! … for you did not die in battle today — you will live strong to fight again tomorrow.