What happens when the warrior tires? Does she lay down her sword and shield and sit down in the middle of the battlefield? I think she must, depending on her comrades in arms to encircle and protect her or simply waiting to be captured or killed. At some point she has reached the state in which she is too tired to care. So, she either drops her sword and sits down in the midst of the battle, hurls it away from her and holds up her hands offers herself up in surrender, plays dead on the battlefield, lying in exhaustion until it’s all over, or any number of other scenarios that may play out as her epic struggles unfold.
I have been a warrior of sorts for much of my adult life. My battlefield might not look like what you picture from the movies: epic battles of the crusades or gritty, bloody, brutal fields of the wars of the past 100 years. Mine don’t involve shedding of blood, wielding of weapons, wearing of body armor. No, the primary battles I’ve waged through the years have been those of wit and will, where skills of strategy, covert action, mental gymnastics are some of the tools of the trade. And while some may cringe at the use of military and warfare metaphors, many of us who engage in social change efforts are quite clear that most of the time we are engaged in battle. People who “fight” for social justice, “combat” racism and other “isms”or “battle” corruption, violence and other social ills most certainly know they are engaged in warfare, and without trying to sound overly dramatic, know that in many cases the outcome is sometimes a matter of life and death, and in other cases of quality of life.
I have done social change work for almost all of my working life, employed within various institutions to make them more hospitable for people who come from different cultural backgrounds than the mainstream dominant culture. It has not been easy, and is often misunderstood and unpopular. I won’t go into a long litany of some of the language of opposition I’ve heard over the years. Suffice it to say that after doing this for over 30 years, one certainly gets weary at various points along the way. That is when this warrior wants to lay down her sword and stop fighting, even if it’s only to rest for a little while, recover my strength, and then jump back into it.
The other day a colleague of mine said during a meeting that she was tired and was not going to fight on this particular day. “If somebody asks me for something I’m going to tell them I don’t have anything for them,” she remarked, “and I need for that to be okay.” I assured her and the rest of those assembled that it was okay, that there are others around her who would not only take up her slack but shield and protect her from “enemy” forces until such time as she feels up to reengaging with the world. And if she were to decide that she wasn’t going to reengage the world and wanted to permanently step aside from the warfare, who am I to dissuade her or get in her way?
I’m grateful for those days, as few and far between as they sometimes are, when someone relieves me from my armor and weapons and sends me off to get some rest. I can feel myself reaching that point right about now. I’m hanging on, engaging in skirmishes here and there, looking for a break in the action when I can catch a breather. And while I know I have more battles ahead, I am looking forward to the time when I can lay down my sword for good and retire to the farm. Until then gratitude and grace will keep me going. And for now, that’s enough.
