Rains & Reigns

I am a warrior, and that's true however one seeks to define it.  I have been to war on foreign soil, covered in gear and grit, two rotations, maintaining machines built for the purpose (F-16's).  I have fought for others, and I'm learning to fight for myself, to liberate those captive to destructive patterns of action, thought, word, and relationship.  I am passionate and fierce when the situation calls for such, quiet and gentle as well.  I was born for this; and God has seen me through every battle of my life.  When the rains fall and the storms ravage my spirit, threatening to rip me apart, the God who sees me reigns over it all, filtering every flash of lightning through His loving fingers, holding back the unthinkable...even when it feels like the unimaginable is happening...

A popular form of fitness training in recent years has included warrior-inspired movements and mechanisms, like the battle rope.  Whenever anyone uses them in my gym, I envision a strong chariot rider, clad in battle gear, urging the stallion to race into the fray - fierce indeed.  In reality, the ropes reign over nothing but the anchor holding the other end steady - and honestly, the anchor is in a reigning position of sorts. 

Another primitive provision more are using in the gym is the box or platform on which to do box jumps.  I've not attempted the taller version, but have had to do box jumps while a physical therapist or other authority reigned over me - never voluntarily...because I've allowed fear to reign in the moments I've faced the task. 

When I was eight years old, I fell on my face in a doorway at school during lunch recess (because I wanted my pen and paper - can't make that up, and it certainly fits my creative profile), and the fall broke my right front tooth in half.  The pain was intense and unrelenting; but that was nothing compared to the pain of ridicule and bullying the crown brought into my life.  From eight to sixteen years of age, I had a temporary crown - yeah, the kind that is only supposed to be worn a week or two until the "permanent" crown is made.  The dentist apparently didn't tell my mother that's how it worked...and the temp-crown on that right front tooth discolored, shifted, because it was never meant for the purpose of permanence.  It was in a place of prominence, exposed to shaming and accusation even though I was made to brush it with everything from lye soap to household bleach in an attempt to remedy the discoloration (and it never worked - only made it more porous).

At sixteen, I got a "permanent" crown, and I'd looked forward to that for eight long and tormented years...and the replacement for the small, discolored, now-crooked right front temporary crown was worse - yes, really.  When the film, Dennis the Menace came out in 1993, a couple years after my high school graduation, I felt some validation for my pain...(just watch.)  The permanent crown I got was longer, wider, and whiter than my natural teeth - actually, it was glow-in-the-dark white - and the kid who was constantly covering her face in shame, the girl who didn't smile in pictures, tried to laugh with her mouth shut, ate with her hand over her mouth...felt even more conspicuous. 

Twenty-five years after the original injury to my right front tooth, I began seeing a dentist in town because the one I'd been using retired.  The retiring dentist had never offered to remedy my situation, and by then, I'd resigned myself to the fate of my face.  At thirty-three years of age, at the time in my life I was deploying to Balad Air Base / LSA Anaconda in Iraq the first time, I got my smile repaired.  I wept as the dentist showed me the results of his craft.  I went from the girl with the broken smile to a woman who suddenly smiled, laughed out loud, posed with family for pictures, radiated joy in my countenance.  The Maroon 5 song was playing on the speakers as I looked into that hand mirror, seeing myself for the first time, a wounded eight-year-old who grew to be a warrior.

It's profound what the freedom to face the world with my chin up has meant.  Now it's been a decade of smiles...and tears...and rain...and reigning over my fear. 

Jotting with Johnna

• What holds you back from being freely fierce in your life?  
• What parts of you could use repair - your spirit, body, mind, soul..?
• What if the things you resigned yourself to, the things you have allowed to reign, could be washed away like a good rain cleanses the land?
• What can you do today to engage a battle as a freedom fighter and detach from the stories keeping you in shame shackles?

Remember:  you are so very worthy of joy, laughter, and levity in this life, even when you mourn.  Release the ropes, step down off the jump platform, breathe a minute and decide what you will do.

Stay tuned.  Stay focused.  Stay well.