I am tired.
My father told me a story....once.
It was a pretty dismal Saturday afternoon, cold and rainy. We were sitting on the couch watching a movie, not too unusual; but at the same time, it was. We were watching a war movie, which was unusual because I had never remembered watching one with my dad before. As we were sitting there he just randomly began telling me of a firefight that he had fought in Vietnam. They had fought for seven days, nonstop. They had to pour oil over the barrels of the larger guns because the guns had become so hot that the barrels were starting to glow and warp. They were at an impasse, too tired to continue fighting but each side refusing to surrender. A cease fire was agreed upon, twenty-four hours to rest and then the fighting would continue...and it did.
Dad didn't say much more, in a few hours he would disappear. He was gone for three days that time, as a boy it was one of his worst benders that I can remember. I understood after that day why we never watched war movies in our house and why Dad rarely talked about his time in the military. For a long time I blamed myself for that day. Why had I chosen that movie, why did I let him tell me that story?
But I was just a boy, and it would be a long time before I understood my father in the way that I do now. My father was awarded the medal of Naval Commendation and the Purple Heart, he was a hero; but most hero's have scars.
Too tired to fight, but refusing to surrender.
It feels like I have used all my strength to get to this point, but I know that I have much more ahead of me. Now before it starts to sound too dismal I will say that I have not lost faith, and I have no intention of giving up. But I am tired.
I recently told a friend that this almost seemed easier when everything was happening too fast to think about it, when I survived on faith alone. When you are fighting to survive you focus on the fight, but it is in the down time that you begin to feel the effects of the battle. I had so much strength and determination at the onset but as I have gotten better it feels like I am worse.
The surprise attacks show us how capable we are, but the long battles show us what we are made of.
I wish that I were invincible, I suppose that everyone does. My troubles are not unique, and my pain is no greater than anyone else. I have no reason to complain, I don't even want to, but today has been a hard day none the less. Not because of what I have been through, but because of the unknown that still lies ahead. These are the moments that change our lives; not what we do with what has happened, but what we do with what comes next.
I struggle most with feeling useless. I know that I should take advantage of the downtime, even enjoy it, because it will be over soon enough. Life will get busy, and even a new normal will become routine. I have been through down times before but apparently it still has not made me an expert with what to do with myself. I watch my friends, busy, often wishing that they had more time to relax; yet here I am, with all the time in the world, wanting to return to being busy. I know better, the busy finds you, rarely do you need to go looking for it.
Normally I wouldn't take the time to write this, it is hard to be vulnerable when you are already feeling weak. The words do not come easily when all you really want to do is sit in silence.
I didn't want to go to church Sunday night. I have been in pain and I am tired, I didn't want to smile and tell everyone that I am fine, but God knew what I did need. A woman who carries burdens far greater than mine held my hand and with a sincerity in her eyes that words cannot describe; she told me how much my writing encouraged her, that she did not feel alone at times when she did not feel her strongest. I did not feel worthy of her praise, nor her appreciation; truth is that day I had been thinking my writing made little difference in this world, and maybe is wasn't worth the effort. I will always write because of what it means to me, but I can do that much in a journal. Putting my thoughts out there for others is much more intimidating, after all, being vulnerable is hard for a guy who dreams of being a super-hero, lol.
Thank you Susan.
My other struggle was being a part of the prayer team that night. I would have avoided the Hero tent (it's what we call the volunteer table) that night had Krissy not called me over and asked if I wanted to sign in. Putting on that PRAYER lanyard in bold red print made me feel like the biggest hypocrite in the building; I didn't want to talk to God about how I was feeling, much less do it for someone else.
But in my weakness, He is proven strong.
I prayed for two people that night. The first was a woman that I had never met, she came with a broken heart. My words felt weak and I was sure that my feeble prayer had made little difference, but as I finished I saw her eyes filled with tears. I hugged her and in that moment I wished that all the strength within me could be transferred to her, I told her that she was going to make it, that she would be OK. Secondly, I prayed for a friend and he strengthened me more than I ever could have blessed him.
There is a book titled The God I Never Knew. Honestly, I have not read this book yet, but the title has been stuck in my mind. I thought that I knew God well enough to get me through all of this; but it's not what I "know" that keeps surprising me. It's the things that I never knew that He continues to show me; that even if I am not quite ready to finish, I know that I can never quit.
I don't know when this "cease fire" of mine will come to an end, and I pray that I will be strong enough to return to the fight when it does. And even though that in this moment I may be tired, I am also grateful for so much more. It all matters, even if only in the smallest of ways. I thank God for reminding of this, and I thank you all for standing with me. My prayer is that I will be there to return that kindness one day when it is needed.
Good Night and God Bless,
Damien
My father told me a story....once.
It was a pretty dismal Saturday afternoon, cold and rainy. We were sitting on the couch watching a movie, not too unusual; but at the same time, it was. We were watching a war movie, which was unusual because I had never remembered watching one with my dad before. As we were sitting there he just randomly began telling me of a firefight that he had fought in Vietnam. They had fought for seven days, nonstop. They had to pour oil over the barrels of the larger guns because the guns had become so hot that the barrels were starting to glow and warp. They were at an impasse, too tired to continue fighting but each side refusing to surrender. A cease fire was agreed upon, twenty-four hours to rest and then the fighting would continue...and it did.
Dad didn't say much more, in a few hours he would disappear. He was gone for three days that time, as a boy it was one of his worst benders that I can remember. I understood after that day why we never watched war movies in our house and why Dad rarely talked about his time in the military. For a long time I blamed myself for that day. Why had I chosen that movie, why did I let him tell me that story?
But I was just a boy, and it would be a long time before I understood my father in the way that I do now. My father was awarded the medal of Naval Commendation and the Purple Heart, he was a hero; but most hero's have scars.
Too tired to fight, but refusing to surrender.
It feels like I have used all my strength to get to this point, but I know that I have much more ahead of me. Now before it starts to sound too dismal I will say that I have not lost faith, and I have no intention of giving up. But I am tired.
I recently told a friend that this almost seemed easier when everything was happening too fast to think about it, when I survived on faith alone. When you are fighting to survive you focus on the fight, but it is in the down time that you begin to feel the effects of the battle. I had so much strength and determination at the onset but as I have gotten better it feels like I am worse.
The surprise attacks show us how capable we are, but the long battles show us what we are made of.
I wish that I were invincible, I suppose that everyone does. My troubles are not unique, and my pain is no greater than anyone else. I have no reason to complain, I don't even want to, but today has been a hard day none the less. Not because of what I have been through, but because of the unknown that still lies ahead. These are the moments that change our lives; not what we do with what has happened, but what we do with what comes next.
I struggle most with feeling useless. I know that I should take advantage of the downtime, even enjoy it, because it will be over soon enough. Life will get busy, and even a new normal will become routine. I have been through down times before but apparently it still has not made me an expert with what to do with myself. I watch my friends, busy, often wishing that they had more time to relax; yet here I am, with all the time in the world, wanting to return to being busy. I know better, the busy finds you, rarely do you need to go looking for it.
Normally I wouldn't take the time to write this, it is hard to be vulnerable when you are already feeling weak. The words do not come easily when all you really want to do is sit in silence.
I didn't want to go to church Sunday night. I have been in pain and I am tired, I didn't want to smile and tell everyone that I am fine, but God knew what I did need. A woman who carries burdens far greater than mine held my hand and with a sincerity in her eyes that words cannot describe; she told me how much my writing encouraged her, that she did not feel alone at times when she did not feel her strongest. I did not feel worthy of her praise, nor her appreciation; truth is that day I had been thinking my writing made little difference in this world, and maybe is wasn't worth the effort. I will always write because of what it means to me, but I can do that much in a journal. Putting my thoughts out there for others is much more intimidating, after all, being vulnerable is hard for a guy who dreams of being a super-hero, lol.
Thank you Susan.
My other struggle was being a part of the prayer team that night. I would have avoided the Hero tent (it's what we call the volunteer table) that night had Krissy not called me over and asked if I wanted to sign in. Putting on that PRAYER lanyard in bold red print made me feel like the biggest hypocrite in the building; I didn't want to talk to God about how I was feeling, much less do it for someone else.
But in my weakness, He is proven strong.
I prayed for two people that night. The first was a woman that I had never met, she came with a broken heart. My words felt weak and I was sure that my feeble prayer had made little difference, but as I finished I saw her eyes filled with tears. I hugged her and in that moment I wished that all the strength within me could be transferred to her, I told her that she was going to make it, that she would be OK. Secondly, I prayed for a friend and he strengthened me more than I ever could have blessed him.
There is a book titled The God I Never Knew. Honestly, I have not read this book yet, but the title has been stuck in my mind. I thought that I knew God well enough to get me through all of this; but it's not what I "know" that keeps surprising me. It's the things that I never knew that He continues to show me; that even if I am not quite ready to finish, I know that I can never quit.
I don't know when this "cease fire" of mine will come to an end, and I pray that I will be strong enough to return to the fight when it does. And even though that in this moment I may be tired, I am also grateful for so much more. It all matters, even if only in the smallest of ways. I thank God for reminding of this, and I thank you all for standing with me. My prayer is that I will be there to return that kindness one day when it is needed.
Good Night and God Bless,
Damien
Be First to Post Comment !
Post a Comment