(no subject)
…She had only let her guard down for a momentary second. Only for a moment had she questioned. She’d thought she was safe and out of their reach; she just had to have a look at it. And in that moment, the war waged greatly down upon her…
From her position in the rocky, shaded, moss covered places of the mountain she could see the fight down below her. Her bow in her hand, she stepped out from the cover of the ledge and shaded her eyes searching out her target. She saw a group of them below attacking what she thought was a fellow warrior, but she couldn’t be sure. What if it was a trap to lure her out of her hiding place? Then she saw the face of the one being attacked. A beloved friend’s face was etched in pain as demons clung to her heart and mind. The warrior could clearly see the defeat, the agony and surrender; her heart ached for the woman being preyed upon below her. Looking around for her companions, they had not yet arrived. She cursed herself for ever have allowed herself to go this far without a dependable companion, without some sort of assurance that someone would be there in her time of need. Questioning her strength, her power, questioning the very accuracy of the truth of her arrows and their power to defeat, she hesitated. What if she couldn’t save her beloved friend? What if she failed? What if she in turn was attacked? She had no help, no aide; she could easily be taken down since she was alone. Glancing towards the heavens, she pleaded for some sort of sign for what to do. Drawing an arrow from her satchel, she took aim at the closest demon, the one hovering above its prey with claws outstretched, ready to snatch any part of flesh it could, and she let the arrow loose.
An arrow pierced the belly of the demon and it fell from the sky. Its cohorts took notice as his body landed on the dusty earth with a thud. They looked up towards the mountain, searching for the deadly assassin that had distracted them from their prey. Ripping their daggers from their belts, they flew towards the mountain in search of a warrior from their enemy. Half of the legion flew high and the other half low, both searching for any sign of the enemy. A piercing screech alerted the legion a warrior had been found. An arrow ripped through the shoulder of a scrawny yellow colored demon as the group of demons focused on the figure running through trees, moss, rocks towards a safe haven. Several of the demons aimed their own arrows at the warrior while others blocked off the path or any means of escape.
Knowing her only hope was to fight, she ceased running towards her home. Seeing the legion before her taking aim at her chest, she raised her shield in defense. “Be merciful to me O God, be merciful to me! For my soul trusts in You; and in the shadow of Your wings I will make my refuge, until these calamities have passed by!” she yelled as the arrows connected with great force against the leather covered shield. Hearing her words, many of the weaker demons shuddered and cowered away. The warrior took out her sword and attacked. The sound of metal against metal resounded through the mountain. Many of the demons heckled and formed a circle around the warrior as she fought off the advances of one of the more talented demons. An ominous shriek pierced her ears and caused her to stumble backwards. In her stumbling, her sword was knocked from her hands. She screamed in pain as an arrow pierced through the weak part of her breastplate in between her shoulder and her heart. Another heart wrenching shriek penetrated the air. “Back away.” A hellish voice commanded. The demons backed away from the warrior, except the one standing over her sword, preventing her from reaching it. A familiar figure landed a few feet from her. His yellow and red gaze sent shivers down her spine and hurt through her soul. “She is mine.” He rasped as he crept towards her. She fumbled for an arrow but her fingers could not grasp one. The familiar demon in front of her had plagued her many different times in her life. He knew her weaknesses and far too often he attached himself to her, attacking her day and night. She had ridded herself of him a few years back, but once again he stood before her. His slithering tongue fell across his teeth as he smiled his sickening smile. He knew where to attack. “Your friend, you love her don’t you?” he circled around her as she stood tall, trying to shut out his remarks. “She means a lot to you.” Shaking his head he continued. “You wouldn’t want to lose another dear friend would you? What is this now, three, four, I’ve lost count. Come now, surely you know the number.” She refused to listen, she tried to find a way of escape but her fears, hurts, and weaknesses were beginning to cloud her vision. If only she had waited like she should have, found someone to go with her on this journey, maybe she wouldn’t be in this trouble. “She’s ours you know.” He hissed in her ear. She felt his grip on her shoulder. “You can’t help her.” His grip tightened. “She is ours.” His talons pierced her skin and pain ripped through her shoulder. A moan escaped her lips as the demons began to stir in joy. Grabbing a dagger from her boot, she swung her arm in a low arch and the blade sliced through the upper thigh of the demon taunting her. “You can’t have her, I won’t let you!” she nearly cried. “Ah, but you see…you’re too weak.” He seemed oblivious to the blow. “There’s nothing you can do. Once again you have left yourself completely alone and helpless. Look at this sword; it’s nearly useless.” He slid his finger across the blade. Guilt ripped through her heart, why hadn’t she sharpened it more often, took a little better care of it. The demon could sense she was weakening. “What a horrible excuse for a friend, of a warrior. I’ve defeated you once again.” The demons began to flutter away back towards their territory, their domain. “You’re weak.” The demon hissed in her ear as he flew away, leaving her in her defeat. “And you didn’t do near enough!” he yelled into the air.
She made it back to the camp that night, defeated and alone. She walked into the tent she shared with her beloved friend who had not been there in sometime. The linen fabric that hung across the doorway to her tent caught the wind and danced in the night. Taking off her armor in the safety of the camp, she tended to her wounds. Her right shoulder was bruised from the grip the demon held on her; blood had dried to her skin and sleeve from where the talons had pricked her skin. The wound from the arrow proved a tad more difficult. The arrow had been easy enough to remove, but the pain was excruciating. After getting a bit of bread, fruit and water, she left her tent and was drawn to the flames of the fire in the middle of the circle of female tents. The men had insisted that no matter how strong the women were, they would be protected at night, surrounded by the men’s tents, the watchmen, and the wall. Music filled the air as a few played guitars and violins and other stringed instruments in the night. She stood alone next to the fire, her eyes fixated on the changing color of the flames. She pulled her long red cape around her as she closed her eyes and listened to the music rising towards the heavens. She tried to sing along but defeat had stolen her song. Tears began to trickle down her face as sorrow filled her heart. The hurt was too much to bear as she fell down on her knees and sobbed. Her cries grew louder as the tears fell heavily. Unaware of her surroundings she cried out to her Father, her Lord. “I don’t want to be alone again!” her cries continued, her eyes burnt from the tears and she could barely see. “I don’t want to be alone!” she whimpered and curled into herself and fell apart.
Another young warrior, a man, had been looking for her. He had gone by her tent and saw her things scattered on the floor and went out in search for her. He saw her standing near the fire and watched as she collapsed to the ground in sobs. Be made his way towards her as she cried out. He wrapped his arms around her and swayed back and forth with her. She clung to him as she cried. He was her strength at that moment, her protector. He prayed softly as she cried. He whispered them into her hair as she whimpered and moaned. When her cries ceased he led her back to her tent and prayed over her before he left her to her sleep. He loved the warrior crying before him and wanted nothing more than to be strong enough to protect her and take away her pain. He didn’t know what the events of the day had held for her or why she was crying, but he would let her tell him at her own time. He went away from her that night, taking some of the burden of her sadness and pain with him, and he gladly bore it.
Over the next few weeks, her wounds had healed, but her spirits hadn’t lifted. Her strength hadn’t fully been regained and she was reluctant to leave her tent. The daily gatherings of prayer and worship seemed a bothersome to her. Deep within her she longed to go, but something with in her resisted. As the weeks tore on, she became lax in her readings, in her conversations with her Father. She became lazy and her skills and training began to fade away. The young man came by her tent many times and urged her to come into the sun, to go get healing, to have one of the older and wiser warriors take a look at her, to get counseling, but she refused. Weeks turned into months and she finally broke down. She walked to the tent of one she trusted, an older woman with great experiences in battle. She had been scared and defeated but she was strong, she was one that the warrior trusted. After a long discussion, the older women took the young warrior to another tent for healing. While there, the prayers never ceased. The older women took the young warrior’s head in her hand and prayed. That day it was discovered that the arrow that had pierced through the young warrior’s armor had been poisoned. That poison had been revenging through the body of the young warrior. She had been attacked from the inside. All of her fears, her hurts, everything was being used against her; her very character had been attacked by the poison, turning her from who she was. The older women held her hand as the wound was reopened and a balm was placed in it to rid her body of the poison. The healing would take time, but at least now the process had begun. After leaving the older women, she ran to the tent of the young man who had been by her side for song long, the young man that she loved. Upon arriving at his tent, she found he wasn’t there. She paced back and forth while waiting for him, her heart ready to burst with the joy that was growing with her, the healing had begun and she could feel it.
Over the next few weeks she was diligent in sharpening her sword, in testing her aim, in strengthening her arm to raise her shield without hesitation. She never again wanted to give that demon a chance to wound her like he did again. The young man was at her side often. Although he did not train with her very often, he came to her with stories of how his own training was going. How the sharpening of his sword, a lengthy process, was going. She never saw his training, she only heard of it, and part of her yearned for him to train with her. Many in the village had sparring partners and she had none. She voiced that yearning to him at the end of the day around the campfire. She poured her heart out to him about how she longed for him to be strong, to see him sparring, testing his sword. She told him of how the desire within her for his strength, his wellbeing, his protection was very great. She wanted him to be a powerful warrior; she wanted him to surpass her, to guide her along, to know things she did not, and to help her down paths she didn’t know. And his heart ached at hearing this.
Half a year had passed and she had not yet heard from her beloved friend. The lonely tent had now been filled by another young woman, training and growing stronger every day. She was thankful for her new friend, but her heart still yearned for her lost friend. She had heard news of her at times. Voices floating on the wind telling of how she was living in splendor near the enemy’s gates. Sin plagued her life and yet, the dear friend was happy and content. A letter arrived for the young warrior one day when she returned to her tent. It was from the dear lost friend and spoke of regret and asked for forgiveness. In the letter, a meeting was asked for, one on neutral ground, away from both of their lives. The young warrior’s heart tightened; fear and timid ness filled her heart and old memories flooded her mind. After counseling from a trusted older woman, the one that had helped to bring about the healing, the young warrior was ready. She went to the meeting, not to attack, but to love. The warrior returned home later that evening with a renewed spirit. There was still hope in saving her beloved friend. There was still hope that one day she might return home.
Months passed…battles raged on outside her home, some had made it passed the wall and into her tent. The battles in her tent had been vicious and left her with many wounds that were slow healing. The young man, her love, had also fallen prey to those battles. New walls were forged and the demons were defeated and cast away. As she and the young man healed, they grew closer and closer. They became distracted by one another and neglected their training for far too long. Conviction came in the form of a stray arrow that pierced her one day as she was walking to meet her love. A fellow warrior and been practicing and one of the arrows forged in truth penetrated her skin. The fellow warrior apologized for his clumsiness and yet never knew just how that arrow was meant for her.
Another battle was raging; she was trying to provide cover. Her arrows were laced across the sky, finding their mark further down the battlefield. Three young female archers were there with her that day, discussing their helmets as they watched for where their arrows were needed. As they talked, she was distracted in searching for her love, she knew not if he was in battle or if he had stayed in his tent that day. She turned her attention back to the conversation and the battle at hand. The discussion had ended as the three young women left her because they were needed elsewhere in the battle. She sat there alone watching the battle, deep in thought. What of her helmet. She touched the cool metal covering her head. It was smooth to the touch and yet, she could barely feel the weight of it. She thought of how the other women had different shaped helmets, each engraved with different etchings and markings. One was newer than the others and the mark of their Father was easily seen on it. It stood out, the shiny new metal against the older, duller metal of the helmet. Another woman had a date inscribed near the marking as to always remind of the day she became a warrior, while the other had hers tattooed on her wrist, a constant reminder of which side she belonged to. Thinking about the conversation, the young warrior wished she new of her marking. She herself had never seen the mark applied to her helmet. She knew it was there, she had seen it on occasion, when her helmet was clean and when she was looking for it. As she sat there and watched the battle, the overwhelming desire to look at her helmet and find that mark filled her. She knew the rules, the warnings to never take your helmet off or any other piece of armor off in battle. But as she looked around she saw no sign of danger anywhere. She was far from the battle…and she’d only have it off for a moment. She had doubted her mark was there on her helmet before but never during battle. It would only be a moment; she removed her helmet and searched for the mark. She had only let her guard down for a momentary second. Only for a moment had she questioned. She’d thought she was safe and out of their reach; she just had to have a look at it. And in that moment, the war waged greatly down upon her. Her attention was completely on her helmet as the demons ran towards her. She looked up, eyes wide with fear and regret; what had she done. She put the helmet back on her head as two demons attacked her. She didn’t have time to latch the chin piece into place as one of the demons small swords grazed her flesh. She grabbed up her sword and tried to fend off the attacks but she was caught off guard. One demon came from behind and pulled at her hair and grabbed for her helmet. Seeing that it was not securely fastened, he knew it would make for an easy victory if he could remove it and pierce her mind, interject any thought of doubt or fear. Her helmet fell from her head and landed in the grass a few feet from her. She could not get to it before one of the demons flew at her, talons thrashing through the air towards her now unprotected head. Her hair flew into her face, making it hard to see as she blindly swung at the demon coming towards her. Pain flooded through her body as the talons scratched her temple and cheek. A blow to the head from one of the demon’s fists or tail, she could not tell, knocked her to the ground. She cried out for help. She just needed a moment to regain herself, to put her helmet back on and to find her sword. Where was he, why wasn’t he there to help her? She longed to see him running towards her, sword raised, fending off the attacks until she was on her feet again. She needed him to be there beside her, she needed to know that he was able to fight, to defend himself and her. She needed him there with his sharpened sword to help her. Oh how she wished that he could.
She passed into sleep as she became too overwhelmed by her situation to do a thing about it. The battle before her was slipping away into the hands of the enemy and she could barely retain consciousness. She heard help coming towards her and managed to open her eyes just long enough to see her new friend coming towards her, fighting the demons into retreat as she came. The new friend knelt down next to her and wiped the blood from her brown, the friend helped her up and supported her as they made there way back to the safety of the walls and the tent in which they both lived. There, the friend prayed for a long time over her. After a long conversation, both of their spirits were lifted and both were renewed. The two talked late into the night as they drifted off to sleep, they shared stories and strengths, fears and weaknesses. The two grew closer that night and she smiled as she drifted to sleep, that night learning a great lesson that took her so long to achieve. She could not go through this battle alone. It required strength and being prepared. She could not rely on others for her strength; she needed to gather her strength from the One that gives it. She learned that she needed those walls, those conversations late at night in her tent. She needed to cry every now and again; she needed the counsel of that wise older woman. And she needed every bit of her armor and faith in it.
The battle rages on every day of her life. She wins some and she loses some. She is defeated, and she is victorious. She has struggles that she refuses to let go of and she has strengths she didn’t know she had. The battle is never ending until the day she is called home to Heaven. And in that battle she will continue to fight until her last day.
“Stand therefore, having girded your waist with truth, having put on the breastplate of righteousness, and having shot your feet with the preparation of the gospel of peace; above all, taking the shield of faith which you will be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked one. And take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God; praying always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit, being watchful to this end with all perseverance and supplication for all the saints.” ~Ephesians 6: 14-18
From her position in the rocky, shaded, moss covered places of the mountain she could see the fight down below her. Her bow in her hand, she stepped out from the cover of the ledge and shaded her eyes searching out her target. She saw a group of them below attacking what she thought was a fellow warrior, but she couldn’t be sure. What if it was a trap to lure her out of her hiding place? Then she saw the face of the one being attacked. A beloved friend’s face was etched in pain as demons clung to her heart and mind. The warrior could clearly see the defeat, the agony and surrender; her heart ached for the woman being preyed upon below her. Looking around for her companions, they had not yet arrived. She cursed herself for ever have allowed herself to go this far without a dependable companion, without some sort of assurance that someone would be there in her time of need. Questioning her strength, her power, questioning the very accuracy of the truth of her arrows and their power to defeat, she hesitated. What if she couldn’t save her beloved friend? What if she failed? What if she in turn was attacked? She had no help, no aide; she could easily be taken down since she was alone. Glancing towards the heavens, she pleaded for some sort of sign for what to do. Drawing an arrow from her satchel, she took aim at the closest demon, the one hovering above its prey with claws outstretched, ready to snatch any part of flesh it could, and she let the arrow loose.
An arrow pierced the belly of the demon and it fell from the sky. Its cohorts took notice as his body landed on the dusty earth with a thud. They looked up towards the mountain, searching for the deadly assassin that had distracted them from their prey. Ripping their daggers from their belts, they flew towards the mountain in search of a warrior from their enemy. Half of the legion flew high and the other half low, both searching for any sign of the enemy. A piercing screech alerted the legion a warrior had been found. An arrow ripped through the shoulder of a scrawny yellow colored demon as the group of demons focused on the figure running through trees, moss, rocks towards a safe haven. Several of the demons aimed their own arrows at the warrior while others blocked off the path or any means of escape.
Knowing her only hope was to fight, she ceased running towards her home. Seeing the legion before her taking aim at her chest, she raised her shield in defense. “Be merciful to me O God, be merciful to me! For my soul trusts in You; and in the shadow of Your wings I will make my refuge, until these calamities have passed by!” she yelled as the arrows connected with great force against the leather covered shield. Hearing her words, many of the weaker demons shuddered and cowered away. The warrior took out her sword and attacked. The sound of metal against metal resounded through the mountain. Many of the demons heckled and formed a circle around the warrior as she fought off the advances of one of the more talented demons. An ominous shriek pierced her ears and caused her to stumble backwards. In her stumbling, her sword was knocked from her hands. She screamed in pain as an arrow pierced through the weak part of her breastplate in between her shoulder and her heart. Another heart wrenching shriek penetrated the air. “Back away.” A hellish voice commanded. The demons backed away from the warrior, except the one standing over her sword, preventing her from reaching it. A familiar figure landed a few feet from her. His yellow and red gaze sent shivers down her spine and hurt through her soul. “She is mine.” He rasped as he crept towards her. She fumbled for an arrow but her fingers could not grasp one. The familiar demon in front of her had plagued her many different times in her life. He knew her weaknesses and far too often he attached himself to her, attacking her day and night. She had ridded herself of him a few years back, but once again he stood before her. His slithering tongue fell across his teeth as he smiled his sickening smile. He knew where to attack. “Your friend, you love her don’t you?” he circled around her as she stood tall, trying to shut out his remarks. “She means a lot to you.” Shaking his head he continued. “You wouldn’t want to lose another dear friend would you? What is this now, three, four, I’ve lost count. Come now, surely you know the number.” She refused to listen, she tried to find a way of escape but her fears, hurts, and weaknesses were beginning to cloud her vision. If only she had waited like she should have, found someone to go with her on this journey, maybe she wouldn’t be in this trouble. “She’s ours you know.” He hissed in her ear. She felt his grip on her shoulder. “You can’t help her.” His grip tightened. “She is ours.” His talons pierced her skin and pain ripped through her shoulder. A moan escaped her lips as the demons began to stir in joy. Grabbing a dagger from her boot, she swung her arm in a low arch and the blade sliced through the upper thigh of the demon taunting her. “You can’t have her, I won’t let you!” she nearly cried. “Ah, but you see…you’re too weak.” He seemed oblivious to the blow. “There’s nothing you can do. Once again you have left yourself completely alone and helpless. Look at this sword; it’s nearly useless.” He slid his finger across the blade. Guilt ripped through her heart, why hadn’t she sharpened it more often, took a little better care of it. The demon could sense she was weakening. “What a horrible excuse for a friend, of a warrior. I’ve defeated you once again.” The demons began to flutter away back towards their territory, their domain. “You’re weak.” The demon hissed in her ear as he flew away, leaving her in her defeat. “And you didn’t do near enough!” he yelled into the air.
She made it back to the camp that night, defeated and alone. She walked into the tent she shared with her beloved friend who had not been there in sometime. The linen fabric that hung across the doorway to her tent caught the wind and danced in the night. Taking off her armor in the safety of the camp, she tended to her wounds. Her right shoulder was bruised from the grip the demon held on her; blood had dried to her skin and sleeve from where the talons had pricked her skin. The wound from the arrow proved a tad more difficult. The arrow had been easy enough to remove, but the pain was excruciating. After getting a bit of bread, fruit and water, she left her tent and was drawn to the flames of the fire in the middle of the circle of female tents. The men had insisted that no matter how strong the women were, they would be protected at night, surrounded by the men’s tents, the watchmen, and the wall. Music filled the air as a few played guitars and violins and other stringed instruments in the night. She stood alone next to the fire, her eyes fixated on the changing color of the flames. She pulled her long red cape around her as she closed her eyes and listened to the music rising towards the heavens. She tried to sing along but defeat had stolen her song. Tears began to trickle down her face as sorrow filled her heart. The hurt was too much to bear as she fell down on her knees and sobbed. Her cries grew louder as the tears fell heavily. Unaware of her surroundings she cried out to her Father, her Lord. “I don’t want to be alone again!” her cries continued, her eyes burnt from the tears and she could barely see. “I don’t want to be alone!” she whimpered and curled into herself and fell apart.
Another young warrior, a man, had been looking for her. He had gone by her tent and saw her things scattered on the floor and went out in search for her. He saw her standing near the fire and watched as she collapsed to the ground in sobs. Be made his way towards her as she cried out. He wrapped his arms around her and swayed back and forth with her. She clung to him as she cried. He was her strength at that moment, her protector. He prayed softly as she cried. He whispered them into her hair as she whimpered and moaned. When her cries ceased he led her back to her tent and prayed over her before he left her to her sleep. He loved the warrior crying before him and wanted nothing more than to be strong enough to protect her and take away her pain. He didn’t know what the events of the day had held for her or why she was crying, but he would let her tell him at her own time. He went away from her that night, taking some of the burden of her sadness and pain with him, and he gladly bore it.
Over the next few weeks, her wounds had healed, but her spirits hadn’t lifted. Her strength hadn’t fully been regained and she was reluctant to leave her tent. The daily gatherings of prayer and worship seemed a bothersome to her. Deep within her she longed to go, but something with in her resisted. As the weeks tore on, she became lax in her readings, in her conversations with her Father. She became lazy and her skills and training began to fade away. The young man came by her tent many times and urged her to come into the sun, to go get healing, to have one of the older and wiser warriors take a look at her, to get counseling, but she refused. Weeks turned into months and she finally broke down. She walked to the tent of one she trusted, an older woman with great experiences in battle. She had been scared and defeated but she was strong, she was one that the warrior trusted. After a long discussion, the older women took the young warrior to another tent for healing. While there, the prayers never ceased. The older women took the young warrior’s head in her hand and prayed. That day it was discovered that the arrow that had pierced through the young warrior’s armor had been poisoned. That poison had been revenging through the body of the young warrior. She had been attacked from the inside. All of her fears, her hurts, everything was being used against her; her very character had been attacked by the poison, turning her from who she was. The older women held her hand as the wound was reopened and a balm was placed in it to rid her body of the poison. The healing would take time, but at least now the process had begun. After leaving the older women, she ran to the tent of the young man who had been by her side for song long, the young man that she loved. Upon arriving at his tent, she found he wasn’t there. She paced back and forth while waiting for him, her heart ready to burst with the joy that was growing with her, the healing had begun and she could feel it.
Over the next few weeks she was diligent in sharpening her sword, in testing her aim, in strengthening her arm to raise her shield without hesitation. She never again wanted to give that demon a chance to wound her like he did again. The young man was at her side often. Although he did not train with her very often, he came to her with stories of how his own training was going. How the sharpening of his sword, a lengthy process, was going. She never saw his training, she only heard of it, and part of her yearned for him to train with her. Many in the village had sparring partners and she had none. She voiced that yearning to him at the end of the day around the campfire. She poured her heart out to him about how she longed for him to be strong, to see him sparring, testing his sword. She told him of how the desire within her for his strength, his wellbeing, his protection was very great. She wanted him to be a powerful warrior; she wanted him to surpass her, to guide her along, to know things she did not, and to help her down paths she didn’t know. And his heart ached at hearing this.
Half a year had passed and she had not yet heard from her beloved friend. The lonely tent had now been filled by another young woman, training and growing stronger every day. She was thankful for her new friend, but her heart still yearned for her lost friend. She had heard news of her at times. Voices floating on the wind telling of how she was living in splendor near the enemy’s gates. Sin plagued her life and yet, the dear friend was happy and content. A letter arrived for the young warrior one day when she returned to her tent. It was from the dear lost friend and spoke of regret and asked for forgiveness. In the letter, a meeting was asked for, one on neutral ground, away from both of their lives. The young warrior’s heart tightened; fear and timid ness filled her heart and old memories flooded her mind. After counseling from a trusted older woman, the one that had helped to bring about the healing, the young warrior was ready. She went to the meeting, not to attack, but to love. The warrior returned home later that evening with a renewed spirit. There was still hope in saving her beloved friend. There was still hope that one day she might return home.
Months passed…battles raged on outside her home, some had made it passed the wall and into her tent. The battles in her tent had been vicious and left her with many wounds that were slow healing. The young man, her love, had also fallen prey to those battles. New walls were forged and the demons were defeated and cast away. As she and the young man healed, they grew closer and closer. They became distracted by one another and neglected their training for far too long. Conviction came in the form of a stray arrow that pierced her one day as she was walking to meet her love. A fellow warrior and been practicing and one of the arrows forged in truth penetrated her skin. The fellow warrior apologized for his clumsiness and yet never knew just how that arrow was meant for her.
Another battle was raging; she was trying to provide cover. Her arrows were laced across the sky, finding their mark further down the battlefield. Three young female archers were there with her that day, discussing their helmets as they watched for where their arrows were needed. As they talked, she was distracted in searching for her love, she knew not if he was in battle or if he had stayed in his tent that day. She turned her attention back to the conversation and the battle at hand. The discussion had ended as the three young women left her because they were needed elsewhere in the battle. She sat there alone watching the battle, deep in thought. What of her helmet. She touched the cool metal covering her head. It was smooth to the touch and yet, she could barely feel the weight of it. She thought of how the other women had different shaped helmets, each engraved with different etchings and markings. One was newer than the others and the mark of their Father was easily seen on it. It stood out, the shiny new metal against the older, duller metal of the helmet. Another woman had a date inscribed near the marking as to always remind of the day she became a warrior, while the other had hers tattooed on her wrist, a constant reminder of which side she belonged to. Thinking about the conversation, the young warrior wished she new of her marking. She herself had never seen the mark applied to her helmet. She knew it was there, she had seen it on occasion, when her helmet was clean and when she was looking for it. As she sat there and watched the battle, the overwhelming desire to look at her helmet and find that mark filled her. She knew the rules, the warnings to never take your helmet off or any other piece of armor off in battle. But as she looked around she saw no sign of danger anywhere. She was far from the battle…and she’d only have it off for a moment. She had doubted her mark was there on her helmet before but never during battle. It would only be a moment; she removed her helmet and searched for the mark. She had only let her guard down for a momentary second. Only for a moment had she questioned. She’d thought she was safe and out of their reach; she just had to have a look at it. And in that moment, the war waged greatly down upon her. Her attention was completely on her helmet as the demons ran towards her. She looked up, eyes wide with fear and regret; what had she done. She put the helmet back on her head as two demons attacked her. She didn’t have time to latch the chin piece into place as one of the demons small swords grazed her flesh. She grabbed up her sword and tried to fend off the attacks but she was caught off guard. One demon came from behind and pulled at her hair and grabbed for her helmet. Seeing that it was not securely fastened, he knew it would make for an easy victory if he could remove it and pierce her mind, interject any thought of doubt or fear. Her helmet fell from her head and landed in the grass a few feet from her. She could not get to it before one of the demons flew at her, talons thrashing through the air towards her now unprotected head. Her hair flew into her face, making it hard to see as she blindly swung at the demon coming towards her. Pain flooded through her body as the talons scratched her temple and cheek. A blow to the head from one of the demon’s fists or tail, she could not tell, knocked her to the ground. She cried out for help. She just needed a moment to regain herself, to put her helmet back on and to find her sword. Where was he, why wasn’t he there to help her? She longed to see him running towards her, sword raised, fending off the attacks until she was on her feet again. She needed him to be there beside her, she needed to know that he was able to fight, to defend himself and her. She needed him there with his sharpened sword to help her. Oh how she wished that he could.
She passed into sleep as she became too overwhelmed by her situation to do a thing about it. The battle before her was slipping away into the hands of the enemy and she could barely retain consciousness. She heard help coming towards her and managed to open her eyes just long enough to see her new friend coming towards her, fighting the demons into retreat as she came. The new friend knelt down next to her and wiped the blood from her brown, the friend helped her up and supported her as they made there way back to the safety of the walls and the tent in which they both lived. There, the friend prayed for a long time over her. After a long conversation, both of their spirits were lifted and both were renewed. The two talked late into the night as they drifted off to sleep, they shared stories and strengths, fears and weaknesses. The two grew closer that night and she smiled as she drifted to sleep, that night learning a great lesson that took her so long to achieve. She could not go through this battle alone. It required strength and being prepared. She could not rely on others for her strength; she needed to gather her strength from the One that gives it. She learned that she needed those walls, those conversations late at night in her tent. She needed to cry every now and again; she needed the counsel of that wise older woman. And she needed every bit of her armor and faith in it.
The battle rages on every day of her life. She wins some and she loses some. She is defeated, and she is victorious. She has struggles that she refuses to let go of and she has strengths she didn’t know she had. The battle is never ending until the day she is called home to Heaven. And in that battle she will continue to fight until her last day.
“Stand therefore, having girded your waist with truth, having put on the breastplate of righteousness, and having shot your feet with the preparation of the gospel of peace; above all, taking the shield of faith which you will be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked one. And take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God; praying always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit, being watchful to this end with all perseverance and supplication for all the saints.” ~Ephesians 6: 14-18