LIVING ON THE FRONT LINES

This year was the most unusual Remembrance Day I have ever witnessed. It was, to my recollection, the first time our family did not attend an official Remembrance Day ceremony together. Instead, I took our youngest child to church, were we observed the traditional moment of silence; the remainder of the family each observed the day independently.

I spent some time today thinking about how to present the subject of war to my 7-yr-old. He knows there were soldiers who died, but he has yet to see any videos or historical literature of the subject. Although I could easily turn on the TV and choose an appropriate show to share with him, I wondered if it would just seem like a movie to him. That's not how wars are fought today; it looks like a movie scene to our youngest generation.

So what do you say when your child asks if they will ever have to go to war? I have to be honest - my mind reels at the thought of my children ever being near an actual war zone. Yet, more importantly, we fight a war every day which we rarely talk about. It is a battle for our souls, our minds, our joy, and all things good and precious; we live on the front lines of a spiritual warfare every. single. day.

In any war, the first thing you must know is: Who is my enemy, and who is my ally? It is not so different in the war for our mind and soul. Besides Satan himself, I consider anyone an enemy who tries to sabotage my joy, my confidence, or my family. Allies are people who cheer for us, even when others would believe the worst of us. If you are unsure whether someone is for you, odds are very good they're not; true allies are vocal - not unlike parents on the sidelines of sporting events.

The next important thing to know in war is: What is my mission? I imagine in wars past the soldiers often questioned, "Why this hill?" Lives were lost claiming small pieces of land at a time; aren't we still like that today? We will risk a relationship to claim the small hill of being right. We will sacrifice our contentment for the prize of keeping up with our neighbor. Be careful which hills you choose to battle for; always consider the cost versus the reward.

If I were in a physical war, I would want to know what my weapons are. It is no different in the war for my well-being, or the war for my eternal life. Key weapons I have identified thus far are the promises of God, the power of prayer, the current of friendship, and the lantern of hope. Any one of these may get us through the day, but the combination is enough to carry us all the way to a victorious finish.

Perhaps the key question we can ask is: What am I fighting for? Our veterans fought for justice and liberty. Many wars today are about power and money. The war that is relevant to each of us, waged on our minds every day, is for eternity. There is no enemy attack where there is no prize to be gained. Rest assured that if you are feeling weary, battle-scarred and wounded, the enemy of your soul is trying to shift your focus to things of today so that you ignore all thoughts of eternity.

Show up to the front lines of your life today! Is your joy being robbed by fear, jealousy or bitterness? "Stand against the devil, and the devil will run from you." (James 4:7 NCV) Are you convinced that you don't have the strength to fight? "...And after you have done everything, to stand. Stand firm then..." Just stand. Your weapons - prayer, promises of God, friendship and hope - will serve you well if you do nothing but stand. Just show up.

Life is a battlefield, but there will be a winning side! I choose today to rebuke anything that would steal my peace. There will be days of loss and hardship, but the big picture says there's a big reward for just standing my ground. I'd love to have you standing beside me.

Please leave a comment below if I can pray for you today. None of us fight alone. That's the one beauty of a war zone.

Hugs,
Vicki

WORM WOUNDS

Each morning as we leave our home, I admire the beauty of our property. The huge, decades-old, leafy poplars that flank the east and south sides of our home are host to many songbirds who begin and end our days with joyful sounds.

On the western edge of our property, which is the street-facing side, are about 9 young saplings nobody planted. Really - nobody. When the first one sprung up out of the cinder block, we assumed it was an alder bush...so we weed-whacked it. Two years in a row. And then it began to grow for spite; the tree is now taller than I am, in the center of 8 mini-mysteries just like it.

As I behold our property, shrouded in shade, I am deeply grateful for divine favor. You see, we live in a prairie region which is currently enduring its second year of infestation with tent caterpillars. These worms are offensive to both the eyes and ears, and they devour trees. Well, not the trees exactly ... but all their leaves. Much of our neighborhood has been stripped bare by these pests.

Next door to us is an elementary school, where my kindergartener enjoys spending time on the playground equipment. Sitting there with him this weekend, I noticed the unusual condition of the schoolyard trees. 

My husband has taken great care to band our trees with carboard, duct tape and chainsaw oil. This has prevented the dreaded tent caterpillars from climbing and feasting on our trees; however, no such care has been given to the schoolyard poplars. Defenseless, they have become patchy with what I like to call "worm wounds."

"Worm wounds" are bald spots in a tree which testify to the evidence of pests being present. Sure, some branches are still leafy enough to house a home for a pair of hummingbirds or a family of robins. Other branches, though, are like a window to the heart of the tree - its trunk, which is clearly visible, exposed for temporary lack of the standard leafy veil.

That's the key. These worm wounds are, in fact, temporary. I witnessed these trees last July, stripped as naked as though it were mid-December. I also witnessed them blossom in spring, and I see their branches - even in their current state of duress - attempting to bud after each fresh rainfall.

I am humbled as I observe nature reflect my life. There are "worm wounds" in my story which seem to strip parts of me naked and raw with each season of newness and growth. They leave my core exposed: afraid that my past will thunder into my present, that the scorching rejection of yesteryear will char my very soul, and that I will never be complete in my purpose. What if I'm never more than blotched?

As clear as the call of the pigeon from the school rooftop, I hear it. The whisper to my soul from its Creator: "To every thing, there is a season." There is a time for feeling a little naked and on display; there is also a time the soul-sucking worms move on. The key is to keep bending with the breeze, soaking up the sun, and welcoming the rain.

The trees do not refuse the birds a nesting place simply because they are momentarily less bountiful. Rather, they allow the birds to build and turn those exposed areas into arenas for amplified, unfiltered music. Robins, hummingbirds, sparrows and finches - all project their voices to fill the world with song.

Oh, that my heart would do the same! Focus on the thriving branches of life! Become a shelter for others -  a strong, safe place from which to sing their songs. Unafraid of those who may injure hearts but cannot destroy the soul. Realizing that no season lasts forever, and those who sing with joy, are capable of eliminating any worms who attack.