But don’t get the impression that the Damsel thinks women are nothing but rescue-needing objects. She’s had wonderful, strong women in her life, especially her mom and grandmother. She literally sat at her grandmother’s feet and listened to stories of the old days: how people used to live—gardening, preserving, sewing, baking, mending, and relying on oneself.
Don’t think the dragons stayed away. The Damsel finds herself distressed on a daily basis. Sometimes the Knight rescues her, because he can’t help himself, and sometimes the Damsel has to get tough.
Grandma (Grandma being a metaphor for all the great women in her life) taught her how to rely on herself, but even more importantly to rely on God. The arm of flesh is weak and sometimes flabby.
On a cold, miserable day last week, the sky was gray as yesterday’s oatmeal. The Damsel got in an airplane, and after the typical gut-clenching lurch upwards, found herself surrounded by brilliant blue. The layer of murk ended up being much thinner than it seemed.
If Grandma were here, she’d remind the Damsel that the gray might seem smothering-thick, but to God it’s a bit of fluff, designed to make her strong. He’s waiting to hold her up in the sky, take her hand, and together part the clouds.
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