Subtle Attack

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The battle was today. Lena had prepared for it as best as she could, relying somewhat on instinct, intelligence gathered from allies and definitely from prior experience with the enemy. The enemy’s camp encircled hers, battle inevitable.

She was not afraid. She had prepared. She knew the war had already been won. She shifted her shield in front of her heart and raised her sword, waiting. The forest was still around her, full of rustling, russet beauty. The peace of the place brought praise from her lips. She belonged to Him. This skirmish was merely to test the strength of her armor. And He made her armor strong.

The enemy never stood a chance against Lena, armed to the max. Yet in a strange twist of fate, the enemy never engaged her at all. Before her very eyes, the enemy’s camp was slowly dissolving, disappearing. Lena sang for joy at their retreat.

She went on her way later, journeying across the open field on the way to her cabin. The joy of not entering battle that morning swelled her heart. She went about her day, working, completing menial tasks that must be done around home.

Slowly, things began to go south. Simple tasks of habit took on greater obstacles. A project she had been putting off for a week suddenly became impossible to complete due to forces out of her own control and knowledge. Frustration built, attitude embittered and before she knew it, Lena was lying on the floor feeling defeated, depressed and discouraged.

She fell asleep there, a mere fragment of the warrior from earlier.

When she awoke, all the signs were visible. The enemy had attacked her, not on the battle field, as she had supposed, but in the subtle aftermath of her everyday life.

The Insignificance of . . .

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Yes, it’s been another six months since I last blogged. I’d like to say that there were a great many things, definitely important things, keeping me from blogging. But then I’d be lying. Yes, my mother passed away seven months ago, but that hasn’t been the reason I’ve not blogged.

Nope, essentially it all boils down to pride.

This weekend I got together with a wonderful group of Christian women writers for a retreat and several, if not all of us, struggled with the lack of recognition prevalent in the blogging world. We writers are crafters of words and like any artist, we like recognition. (Okay, maybe some there were better versed in humility than I.)

Quite honestly, my blog feels insignificant to me often. And of course the pride-y part of me will always think that.

As I was listening for God’s voice by a river this weekend, I looked down and saw a tiny, miniscule stream trickling into the greater river. So often I feel as though my words make no difference whatsoever, especially my blog which may or may not be read by a friend or two on facebook.

Seen through the eyes of God, the stream takes on a completely different meaning–I am contributing to the greater Kingdom River through my little blog stream. Mental note to self: remove self from the scene and write anyway.

Driving home on Sunday, I watched a single leaf or two float to the ground. At first glance, insignificant. Yet how many times have I picked up a single leaf and held it close as a treasure?

And so that is my hope as I return to the world of blogging. May someone, somewhere find a treasure in it.