Baby, Hello

As I stood there washing dishes, you came to me out of nowhere. It’s weird, but I recognized you. You had no physical form and yet I could see you. You were a ball of energy in a dark void, a universe of your own. I wondered why you came to me. Immediately, the words from a sermon from months ago came to me: What battles must you win so you don’t pass them on to your daughter?

There are daughters fighting their mothers’ battles, wars waged against them that their mothers never won. Maybe they became tired, maybe they became complacent, perhaps they succumbed to defeat. Whatever the reason, their daughters traverse the Earth with spears in their backs. The assault never seems to cease.

It often seems there are 3 vindictive witches suspended above the air, salting the soup of life with turmoil and travesty.  The ingredients are often the same, but in varying measurements.

I look in the mirror and wonder: What have I not defeated? What battle resides in me that I have yet to conquer before you come to me? What patterns of chaos cling to me and threaten your victories, what have I not learned that I must be ready to teach? It isn’t enough to say never more. Dragons must be slayed; roots must be pulled out and burned. My freedom resides in my hands, and your freedom partially rests in my victory.  We are always at war. There are battles that I have made mine that do not belong to me. It’s equally difficult to let go, as holding on.  Sometimes the slaying requires us to step back, to look at the dragon in the face and tell him to go. Your sword won’t work on it; your aggression won’t work; your please won’t work either. You win by letting go. You win by taking 2 steps back. Or 3 or 4. You won’t win by swinging. You win by not choosing to fight. You must discern the difference.

Now more than ever, I must ensure victory over these things. One day they may come and challenge you manifested in a grotesque or mesmerizing disguise. You must trust your instincts, discern energies. When your sight tells you one thing, but your instincts are burning with alarm, trust your instincts. They reveal what you cannot put into words. Often, they show you what you may never be able to prove to provide justification, but always trust them when your sight, taste, sound, touch and smell have failed you; when they are contradictory and confusing, trust your instincts, that still, small voice that you cannot explain.

I know you will be fine. I know you will be a lioness, ferocious, fierce, captivating, mighty, intelligent and loving. I know you will because you have to. These things are bestowed upon you. It is up to you to accept them or reject them. I will do the best that I can. Lead the best that I can. It will be for the benefit of both of us. You will thrive. And so, as you stand there before me, waiting for me, I will do what I must, and push as hard as I can, that you too will have a chance to traverse deeper, longer roads, equipped, and with most of the road already paved for you.  Yes, you will have your own battles that you must win. Yes, you will have to clear your own paths but I will do what I must for to help you get where you need to be. You will be healthy. Capable. Strong. Discerning. Wise. You will do it all. And come out bold. Daring. I will slay these dragons for myself. I will slay these dragons for you. I will slay them for us.