The Battle With Goliath...
It has not been an easy road - this journey I've had to travel.
I'm not talking about the general journey of life that each of us takes, I'm talking about a particular leg of my journey... one that started just over a year ago and brought me face to face with my Goliath.
This was a journey I had to travel on my own, a journey which - despite the encouragement of others - was rather unpleasant for the entirety of its duration - and downright NASTY for sustained periods along the way... but here I am: still standing, on the other side. Having crossed over I am ready to move on.
Man!.... what a battle it was.
I'm standing yes, but only just. This battle threatened to destroy me, to break me, to strip me of everything I am and all that I believed in. I sustained heavy injury, I'm still licking my bruises and wrapping broken ribs as I type... make no mistake about it - I am wounded and scarred... but I won... and that makes every bruise, every torn piece of flesh and every broken bone worth it.
Why is it that often the most painful experiences teach the most valuable lessons? Why is it that often monumental breakthroughs can only be achieved after significant bloodshed or personal sacrifice?
Just over 6 months ago I was writhing in agony, screaming out to noone in particular, wondering whether anyone would hear my cries for help... love and advice poured in from all sides, those close to me, those further away, support and solace came from the most unlikely sources - and I was grateful for every drop of it, used it to replenish my strength, to replace the substance of my spirit that seemed to be ebbing away with alarming speed.
I spoke at the time, of a wall, of being at the end of a road; of reaching a point where one must stop or turn back or just do something else for crying out loud! Or take more licks and lose one's sanity...
Some advised I run, some suggested alternative routes, some said 'give up', others said ' stand and fight', still others simply said 'stand'.
I'd fought as much as I could, there was no fight left in me, how much punch can you pack when every bone in your fist is shattered eh?
So I stood, and after more blows, I knelt... and after still more blows, I crouched... until eventually all I could do is be still. I could not push forward nor could I run away. I was where I was - for better or for worse. Beaten to a pulp, dying inside, hurting, bleeding, too weak to even cry anymore... I just 'was' - I could 'do' no more.
And then... about a month ago, something amazing happened. The wall I'd been battered against shattered. Without warning. It just did.
Things I couldn't speak about, injustices, unfairness, underhandedness - all came to light, exposed as the foul lying beast it was. And heads rolled, and things changed and what was meant to be the death of me - turned out to be the liberation of me... now I am free.
Goliath was felled in the end without me having to throw stones or sling mud the way his cohorts were doing. My Goliath couldn't hide behind that wall and throw bombs at me any longer - he was exposed for everyone to see... and others joined my fight, crying out at injustice... so that when I was on my last legs and ready to exhale one final time... my deliverance came... I am free.
What a feeling! I look forward to the day when my wings are fully mended and I can fly again, to the day when I can walk without limping and laugh without wincing.
Freedom - it's like taking a deep breath of fresh air after being in a stagnant cave for too long... or feeling sunlight on your face after being trapped in a dark hole...
my Goliath has fallen... I am free.
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