women warriors.
"There's that woman again," I cringed. "She's so stuck-up. I don't like her."
No, no. I tell myself. I know I'm just jealous. She's not stuck-up at all! She is an amazing singer (you wish you were) and she is always smiling (you wish you did).
She's a glorious mother, a wonderfully strong lady. Why does her loveliness irritate me? I pray for help with my envy. That night the Lord sends me the sweetest dream...
I'm standing in the front lines of a battle, tense and anxious. I can feel the weight of my armor on my shoulders as I toss a spear from hand to hand. Though my heart beats quickly, I summon every ounce of bravery I posses. I look to my side and see her, clad in armor and wearing my colors. She is my comrade.
The relief I feel is so strong, so intense. It washes over me and fills my body with hope. I know she is strong and brave. I am so glad to have her by my side. We are mighty warriors. Looking around I see the faces of many strong women I admire. I couldn't imagine turning to fight them. We are focused and united. We are terrifying to our foe.
In my dream I never see the battle. All I know of our foe is that it's not human. We ready to fight darkness.
When I begin to feel catty I've taken to asking myself, "who is the enemy?" The answer is never the person I'd been tempted to battle in my heart. I picture us standing together, whacking at pride or gluttony. Stabbing disrespect. Slicing hate. (Is that irony?) Like that, we're friends.
Isn't that a heavenly dream?
No, no. I tell myself. I know I'm just jealous. She's not stuck-up at all! She is an amazing singer (you wish you were) and she is always smiling (you wish you did).
She's a glorious mother, a wonderfully strong lady. Why does her loveliness irritate me? I pray for help with my envy. That night the Lord sends me the sweetest dream...
I'm standing in the front lines of a battle, tense and anxious. I can feel the weight of my armor on my shoulders as I toss a spear from hand to hand. Though my heart beats quickly, I summon every ounce of bravery I posses. I look to my side and see her, clad in armor and wearing my colors. She is my comrade.
The relief I feel is so strong, so intense. It washes over me and fills my body with hope. I know she is strong and brave. I am so glad to have her by my side. We are mighty warriors. Looking around I see the faces of many strong women I admire. I couldn't imagine turning to fight them. We are focused and united. We are terrifying to our foe.
In my dream I never see the battle. All I know of our foe is that it's not human. We ready to fight darkness.
When I begin to feel catty I've taken to asking myself, "who is the enemy?" The answer is never the person I'd been tempted to battle in my heart. I picture us standing together, whacking at pride or gluttony. Stabbing disrespect. Slicing hate. (Is that irony?) Like that, we're friends.
Isn't that a heavenly dream?
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