Fight the good fight.
I think to myself, what is a good person? Through a mother and teacher’s perspective, both roles I have been blessedly granted in abundance, year after year, I realize the answer is always right before me.
The innocence of children echo in their laughter up until the world starts to hit them hard with cruel afflictions and constrictions. Their purity, their liveliness- all begin to wilt like a flower before you, suddenly becoming subjugated to the fears of their surroundings.
They begin to see ugly that need not exist. They begin to understand hurt that they did not ask for from the world and its people. They begin to be forgotten, ignored, neglected- an initiation to the world of life on the other side. Adulthood. That other side of where many have fought defeat for some time. The other side filled with those who, in eventuality, have surrendered to the mindset that they are out of time, chances, and any last opportunity. The soul- encompassed by those in bitterness and scorn-until dust they return. There are those, however, not willing to lose that child’s heart, mind, and spirit within, play teeter-totter, from day to night. The fight of the good fight. Staying in the light. Doing the right.
It is not that I want to be that loved neighbor. It is not about getting anything back in return. To gain must not be a driven purpose. Right is simply just right. And yet, the world is an interesting place, ready to fill you with utter complexities of even such question as, “Was my right wrong?”
Being a stay-at-home mom in your twenties to early thirties opened up interesting windows for judgment. Luckily, being so young and naive, I was neither focused or hardly aware of any of them during that time in my life. I realize now, though determined to be a good mother and wife, I was yet still a child with much to learn about the world and its afflictions.
My husband recently pointed out that within our three decades and going of being together, he has learned one of my characteristics is filtering out negativity from people’s actions or words. Funny thing is, until he pointed this out, given that I don’t recall or remember what have been filtered, I humorously come to conclude, “Well, good riddance!” Still, however, I know that whether I am truly good at filtering, I humbly admit to myself that some stones found themselves kept in the sieve. Though still standing, human as I am, stones have managed to silently hurt me.
Ranging between 100-110 pounds, I must have looked quite the image of a teenager happily walking around the malls with my first three children, I think now. Having quickly learned that Tuesday-Thursday were the best times to scrimmage through department stores, shelves being returned back to an organized level following the sales being set up for the upcoming weekend, I felt the great given opportunity of having the first look before all. These were my peaceful, morning walks with my children, having hardly anyone around to disturb the mind and spirit.
Anytime there was a ridiculous price drop down (those not advertised) I would stumble across such as school bags, clothes, home decorations being sold at practically 10 cents on the dollar, I would either get a whole bunch to give away or contact neighboring moms and a phone call away relatives to share the information. Strangely enough, my enthusiasm somehow hardly matched those around me, to my silent laughter. My diamond finds were other’s coal mines, so to speak. Diamonds not seen.
No one held the time or desire to find, what I always felt as, fun treasures. I blessedly had both during those chapters in my life. Though you keep on the joy of finding and giving, rejoicing in moments of elation is a fight alone to not feel isolated. Those feelings of exaltations become quite bleak with no one to share the same excitement with. The challenge to keep on with the “happy, joy, joy” attitude is like I’m back in my room, dancing by myself, having my own party. You eventually get to “the last dance” at the end of each day. You embracingly tell yourself, “See you again tomorrow!”
Anyone who has ever felt the fight to keep the light shining while others around seem to not understand you, know the feeling of despondency to accept that not everyone sees the world the same way. Following years of heartache and despair as a child powerlessly witnessing struggles all around, I am still embracing and breathing the exhalation of blessed victory each day I realize I have now to look at the sun as those shadows fall behind me.
I stayed at home in our first bought house and had the time to hit the gym, care for our children, attend sporting events as a mom, cook, bake, volunteer at times, and spend countless evenings binging on movies with my husband and our kids. This was and still is, precious memories held dear. Being a good mother and wife who loves God was and still is my more than enough. I have been given everything to fulfill such roles and so, I do. And yet, the stones left unfiltered were thrown. I stand up, “brush my shoulders off”, and regain focus to stay and do right.
I choose to do right for as long as I know me. Sure. I was and am a rebel at heart. I need to be. Otherwise, who would have thought a struggling immigrant to graduate from college and have a teaching degree by twenty-two? By chance? By luck? No. Going against voices of darkness to follow the light- doing the right, I rejoice.
Our children are doing extraordinary things in life, continuing to lead within each realm of God’s direction. Did I object to or defy my husband’s plan of actions sometimes? Yes. But, I saw the slowing down of our ship whenever I dared to go against his plan of direction. With loyalty and devotion, I hold no regret to still follow. How are we still together after all the trials and tribulations of raising children not just to live, but achieve better than ourselves? By chance? By luck? No. Staying in the light- doing the right, I continue.
I have been afraid to do wrong since I can remember. People around have long hurt from despair and agony. These interactions and mere observations became my reflective understanding as either examples of what to be or what not to be. I get “life happens”, but perseverance leads to tomorrow to try getting life right by continuing to do right. Ever so fortunate, I see myself like the children around me who continue to teach me so much about myself.
Amongst the fog, the rain, the snow, and sleet, there are great days to fill us with warmth. Children remind me that there is nothing wrong with being what I call a “harmless rebel” while still being in the light to be and do right. I was that child who laughed at people’s “crazy” (the spirit vicariously living). I was that child who pushed limitations to pass notes in class when the teacher was not looking (or blatantly, when they were). I was that one who would doze in class and pretend to not hear the teacher asking others if I had indeed fallen asleep. That rebellious innocence- the exploration and taunting between right from wrong.
No matter how right of a path you walk, no matter how right of a choice you feel you have chosen, no matter how right of a heart you know to hold, there will be opposition to face in life. There are spirits around who will push and shove you, compelled to derail you from your course. Such forces may puncture your heart, toil with your mind, or even devastate your spirit. Let those forces not damage you all together, ever, however. Your right- in your room, in a department store, on a field, in your home-wherever you find yourself to be, stand in that light.
It may hurt you as it has painfully hurt me in times of discovery that not all are for the right, but for benefit of their own rights. We are people, after all. People may have, as I witness, been mistakenly led to believe armor grants us power to scrutinize others around us, not unify us as one for all and all for one. And yet, don’t be fooled. Right is still right. Stay on course. Do not be stripped of your armor.
The belt of truth, the breastplate of righteousness, the shoes of the gospel of peace, the shield of faith, the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the spirit has perhaps long been bartered, lost, or sadly, not have been found by many. For those aware of this begotten armor, we may think high and mighty of ourselves that we uphold such righteousness. What righteousness? Is it the armor we wear that makes us righteous? Or, should I even take a moment to ponder, our righteousness that withholds such armor?
“…whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.”
Rise with the risen.
