Stricken with fresh wounds to her heart, she worked harder even still. Her job was to lead, to guide, to protect and to provide. So more strenuously she applied herself, making sure those dependent upon her were safe, happy and secure. Day by day, she worked diligently. Day by day, her wound refused to heal.
Silently a tall, dark stranger appeared on the horizon. She watched him from a distance, occasionally admiring but always with suspicions. Day by day, he proved himself. Day by day, she teetered and tottered in the playground of trust.
The day came when the tall, dark stranger stood faithfully by her side. Together they faced the one who broke her heart. Her emotions were in turmoil. Quickly the roller coaster of anger, pride and fear tore through her heart.
She knew not which way to turn. She knew not which one to trust. She had known the love of but one, but that one walked away in the midst of chaos leaving a vortex of unrelenting pain. The one who stayed by her side silently testified of faithfulness.
And then the still, small voice of Wisdom spoke into the vortex astounding her ears, washing with peace her heart. Sacrifice comes not only from giving but also in receiving; for in the acceptance of love, our will, our motives and our control must be surrendered.
‘”Yes,” she said patiently. “You are. You’re the leader, but you’re acting like everyone else’s feelings are more important than your own. Your feelings should be the most important feelings to you.”
“I have to think about what other people feel,” I protested. Especially since I’d been criticized in the past for not caring about other people’s feelings!
“Yes,” Angel agreed. “When it’s a group decision or something that affects all of us. But you don’t when it’s something that’s just about you. You decide how you feel about Fang. You decide how you feel about Dylan. Quit letting everything else get in the way.”
“Be with one or the other or neither of them,” Angel concluded. “But just do it and quit whining about it.”
I almost said something, then changed my mind. I am not a whiner. I have taken quite a lot without whining. But maybe Angel had a point.
Maybe she had lots of points.
“The Japanese have an idiom for whining that is translated as ‘vomiting up weakness,'” Total said helpfully.
~excerpt from Angel, A Maximum Ride novel by James Patterson