It’s good to see you once again at the brink of a new dawn; it is interesting to see how you have faired through your journey. I remember the last time we met, you had some doubts about the future but I was certain the end had drawn neigh for you. Alas we both forgot the one who stands before and within you, me moreso than you. I will never forget the moment He interrupted our dance, the moment our little tete a tete spun out of my control and settled nicely into His. Darn Him for having your deep seated attention.
All the same I will always cherish my little victories; moments when you cried, moments when you made a mountain out of a mole hill, times when you swore never to hope again. But like every good thing those moments came swiftly to an end and you sprang back into action despite your scars. If I hadn’t promised to feast on your joy I would have cheered for you and the strength that brought you to where you’re right now. Things never seem to go my way, and it’s all because of those silly words, you know the ones
‘all things work together for the good of them that love the lord blah blah blah….’
It was still fun watching you stumble and fall while you learnt the lessons He cleverly scripted into my scheme. Like when you learnt to not fear the worst possible outcome in that particular situation. I had hoped to hold that over you, to riddle you with guilt, shame, and despair. You mortals often feel failure is the end, the truth as you have learnt is rather much simpler. ‘The acceptance of failure as defined by oneself or society as an identity is the end.’ If you reject the label, the identity then you can rewrite the end of your story, which in real terms never ends until you breath your last. I guess once you discovered that lesson my grip on your reality took a nose dive.
But I still had to try, didn’t I? I mean it’s not a victory until your opponent fails to rise again and by jove that’s what you kept doing. And as you watched your daughters bubbles fall to the ground rather than rise into the skies you acknowledged the single truth that time, chance and motive is indeed all that separates heroes from villains, mediocrity from success. You understood that though the bubbles had the inherent ability to soar they lacked the momentum and conducive environment to rise into the sky. But you also learnt that fallen bubbles regardless of stagnant conditions harbour an ability to bring joy to a little girl as she popped them even in the harsh winter breeze. Again it reminds me of words from that book again,
‘for though the righteous fall seven times, they rise again, but the wicked stumble when calamity strikes.’
I am not a sore looser or at least I like to think I am not but I have to say I am not pleased you got away. You can be sure I will be visiting you again although my name will be a bit different.
Goodbye from sultry seven
Get ready to welcome sexy Eight.