BitterSweetLife

I was going through my "creative writing" folder, looking for stuff I could conceivably submit somewhere for cash, and found this untitled shred (clearly influenced by C.S. Lewis). Melodramatic at points, but the central idea holds true.

Sometimes I find myself agonizing over the lack of “battles to fight” in my life; in the next moment, I realize the battles are everywhere, but the victories are less than splendid—and so the conflicts are less then memorable, they meld together, they lose their distinctives, they are mere noise and confusion. My life is like WW1 trench warfare. Blood is spilled, the victory is won—and for what? An acre of muddy turf that no one in his right mind would ever aspire to possess. Moral victories have little luster.

Then I remind myself that the battles are not ends in themselves. They are fought with the end of the war in view. And until that day arrives, I should not hope to see the fruits of my continued combat. On the final day, but not before, I will begin to taste the rewards of blood and tears. Then there will be peace, and freedom, and joy, and a girl waiting, if I can believe it, all in a beautiful homeland over the sea.