Warning: LONG :P
Picture in your metaphorical minds that the concept of trust is a wide frozen river. Some skate about on it, feeling secure, others walk back and forth on it everyday with no concern. Then there are those who tread lightly if at all. Even with no signs indicating "Danger: Thin Ice" and the sight of others safely on it, it is still something to fear. Any second it could crack and down you go, hard and fast into the nightmare that is the frigid blackness beneath, and those timid people know all too well how truly awful it feels down there and would do anything to avoid it therefore, trust is a precious non-renewable resource, and they wisely stay off the ice.
Then something motivates you. He is on the frozen surface, standing patiently watching you and waiting for you to move forward. You love him with every fiber of your being and would go to him, but do you dare risk it? Hell no. Not for a long time. But love overtakes the fear and a feeling that all will be well and you begin your first tentative steps. Each step closer to him, the love grows stronger and so does your confidence and strength, neither of which you felt you had in you. You finally make it to him and you did it with your own strength. Your hand was not held nor were you carried. The both of you then make your way across the ice towards the shore. There is a stone cottage there, with a thatched roof. There is meat and drink within, as well as a the cheery glow of a warm fire. You discuss the haven together, your fear does not exist any longer. He steps upon the bank first and turns to look at the cottage.
At this moment without warning the ice cracks beneath you. The all too familiar feeling surges back, hitting you in the pit of your stomach and leaving you unable to speak. The black and icy waters grab at your legs and you flounder wildly, in a vain attempt to grip the ice around you but it breaks away in your hands. Pleadingly you look to him, only a hand's reach from you yet he sits down on the bank. Before you sink beneath the inky blackness you hear his words, "You left me waiting too long.." The water beneath the ice is like a thousand swords forged of ice entering every part of you. This time, you will NOT allow this to defeat you. Mustering all strength, perhaps even borrowed strength from somewhere else, you heave yourself ashore. Numb all over and shivering in shock you walk to the stone cottage. Peering in, you see nothing. No meat nor drink. No cheerful fire in the hearth. It's dark, lifeless and cold. He sits outside, head in hands and you watch him. "There is nothing there anymore..." he says. With those words you turn back to the beloved cottage and it is laying in ruins. "Why can't we rebuild?" you ask. "It just won't happen," he answers defeated, "It is dead to us."
Indeed the situation seemed without hope but you know it could be reconstructed. Without a word you begin the tasks at hand. Clearing the debris, gathering fresh rushes for the roof's thatching. You know he has a fighting spirit. You know it is not dead, lost, or gone. With strength it can be rebuilt. You are aware of the demons that can cloud one's mind; Fear, Self-Doubt, Apathy and Short-Sightedness. He must battle these demons before he can rebuild alongside you and see again what is worth fighting for. I can promise you, there is plenty worth fighting for and I retain that hope, if only a fool's hope (thanks Gandalf for that one).
It takes raw courage to stand fast when every fiber of our being wants to hide or leave. Tragic business is taken care of by walking through it, one foot ahead of the other, one day at a time. Plain old guts, the kind we didn't think we had in us, is what carries us through life's cruelest challenges.
Then something motivates you. He is on the frozen surface, standing patiently watching you and waiting for you to move forward. You love him with every fiber of your being and would go to him, but do you dare risk it? Hell no. Not for a long time. But love overtakes the fear and a feeling that all will be well and you begin your first tentative steps. Each step closer to him, the love grows stronger and so does your confidence and strength, neither of which you felt you had in you. You finally make it to him and you did it with your own strength. Your hand was not held nor were you carried. The both of you then make your way across the ice towards the shore. There is a stone cottage there, with a thatched roof. There is meat and drink within, as well as a the cheery glow of a warm fire. You discuss the haven together, your fear does not exist any longer. He steps upon the bank first and turns to look at the cottage.
At this moment without warning the ice cracks beneath you. The all too familiar feeling surges back, hitting you in the pit of your stomach and leaving you unable to speak. The black and icy waters grab at your legs and you flounder wildly, in a vain attempt to grip the ice around you but it breaks away in your hands. Pleadingly you look to him, only a hand's reach from you yet he sits down on the bank. Before you sink beneath the inky blackness you hear his words, "You left me waiting too long.." The water beneath the ice is like a thousand swords forged of ice entering every part of you. This time, you will NOT allow this to defeat you. Mustering all strength, perhaps even borrowed strength from somewhere else, you heave yourself ashore. Numb all over and shivering in shock you walk to the stone cottage. Peering in, you see nothing. No meat nor drink. No cheerful fire in the hearth. It's dark, lifeless and cold. He sits outside, head in hands and you watch him. "There is nothing there anymore..." he says. With those words you turn back to the beloved cottage and it is laying in ruins. "Why can't we rebuild?" you ask. "It just won't happen," he answers defeated, "It is dead to us."
Indeed the situation seemed without hope but you know it could be reconstructed. Without a word you begin the tasks at hand. Clearing the debris, gathering fresh rushes for the roof's thatching. You know he has a fighting spirit. You know it is not dead, lost, or gone. With strength it can be rebuilt. You are aware of the demons that can cloud one's mind; Fear, Self-Doubt, Apathy and Short-Sightedness. He must battle these demons before he can rebuild alongside you and see again what is worth fighting for. I can promise you, there is plenty worth fighting for and I retain that hope, if only a fool's hope (thanks Gandalf for that one).
It takes raw courage to stand fast when every fiber of our being wants to hide or leave. Tragic business is taken care of by walking through it, one foot ahead of the other, one day at a time. Plain old guts, the kind we didn't think we had in us, is what carries us through life's cruelest challenges.