A Call to An Accounting...

And so it begins...a new chapter...a fresh seasoning of what is right and what is good...an accounting for deeds done, or worse for deeds undone...an accounting for failing to uphold justice, a failure to do the job...

And so it begins...breaking generational barriers, opening old wounds to clean, to cauterize but most importantly to effect change...

Standing in the gap, never losing sight of the end goal...standing for myself and those who came before and surely have come after me in the life of the monster.

The truth hurts dear friends...

Truth is part of me wishes to lay down and rest...part of me wishes to leave the fight, tap out WWF style and let the next do her part, and the next...

I open up the floodgates of memory, I release flashbacks held in place, denied access...and cry out in dismay, in shame...no longer ashamed of the love given, no...ashamed of the need to leave the fight, the temptation to exit stage left as the women in my family have done for generations...taking the abuse, taking the fallout in an attempt at peace, at a life free of stress and strife.

Damn it, the easy life is not always, if ever, the right path...

I sat in the quiet places and reflected, dug deep asking God to reveal generational curses...to showcase generational stopgaps to success and joy...

This morning the scales fell from eyes weary of seeing, weary of understanding the heart of people, weary of pain and rejection, weary of evil and the myriad way evil takes shape within a monster masquerading as human...

I have been fashioned for just such a time as this...created for just such a purpose as this...

I was born fighting...born into a family already steeped in pain, abuse, cries of horror and betrayal...

Born into a generation of women who fought for a time but grew tired, grew weary of carrying their personal cross to bear... God bless their hearts, they lived only as they knew how and been taught...to give in, to step aside in an attempt to keep peace...diving only as far as breath would allow, only as far as their heart and spirit could bear up under.

My friends...no matter how deep we dive, how far we plumb the depths or leave it lay...it lives on within us, overshadowing all we do...pain continues, sorrow may grow dim but it resides always...better to do, to fight, to bring it to those who hand it out so carelessly...

My prayer this morning...my cry this morning is let weariness fall to the ground, to pick up my sword and once more wade into the fray...born to fight...three older brothers, three uncles, three boys of my own...generations of women standing behind and beside as I bend down to pick up tools of warfare laid gently upon the ground around me...

May you see dear hearts, dear treasures...may you see weariness as a stepping stone to more...may you see tribulation as the next step in battle, in winning the war...

May God grant you the strength of Samson, the heart of a lion and gentle spirit of love when needed...but oh, may you find the warrior spirit within you. Soldiers too become tired, bone deep exhaustion...they rest, find a spot to burrow in and rest before the next stage of battle begins...they tend to armour, to sword, shining them to brilliance before stepping out once again.

May you pick up your sword and continue on...

I would ask this morning for prayer for continued strength but more...I ask for renewed passion for a fight that continues on around me whether I participate or not...you see, the enemy, the monster in your life lives...LIVES for strife, for chaos, for poking in an attempt to hurt, to maim...

NO MORE...no more...I step once again on a path of resistance instead of least resistance...

I step onto a path destined to culminate in a battle and ready myself mentally, physically and most importantly, spiritually....

May God guide your steps, may He reveal your purpose in this life...whatever that may look like.