It's the stuff of legend, of fact and fiction.
It's Hellenes, with the high pitched "alalalal" of the Iliad.
It's the US marines and their "oorah" as they prepare to launch.
It's "Freeeedommmmm" and it's "For NARNIA!!".
Its the stir and whine of the bagpipes as they call the young men out from the trenches in the muddy, bloody fields of France and Turkey.
A battle cry exists to-
Awaken the readiness of the fighter. It says, "time to stand up and fight now."
It exists to-
Rally the troops. It says, "we are in this. We have got this. Let's do this."
It exists to-
Alert the enemy. It says, "here's your notice enemy! Hear our roar and the sound of our cry. We are coming for you!!"
I'm standing, knee deep in the trenches of battle.
We've come to the front line.
There is a shift that takes place in battle when you come near the front line.
The normality of everyday life is shrugged off and everything is focused on the fight.
The trenches are dug in a little deeper.
The weapons become bigger, lethal in their accuracy.
Our front line means we are far away from our children.
The front line is not a place for little boys.
My heart is evenly and painfully divided directly down the middle as I stand firmly on the front line and glance often over my shoulder towards home, wanting to be the one who tucks squirmy 7 year olds into bed and kiss their squishy faces. Wanting to be the one who feels 9 year old arms wrap around me and squeeze with the intensity of a sons devotion.
Someone told me once that being a mother meant you saw your own heart beating in the smile of your child's face.
My beating heart is far from me.
My heart is divided.
Because I'm a mum. And I think I'm indispensable.
And I'm a wife. And I need to stand right next to my husband- here, and hold his hand as we fight.
Sometimes it feels like it's going to crack under the pressure, but then... Just as I'm about to crumble...I hear it.
It starts as a tiny whisp of noise, a remnant of something that could be a word...
It shifts focus, the louder it gets.
It reminds me that this battle is not forever, that peace will come back to our house once more.
It tells me to stand up and prepare to fight.
It rallies the warriors around me. The armies that have chosen to stand along side us, lifting up our arms in this fight. Oh... The words that I could write about my warriors.
The faithful grandmothers and aunties who carry us in their midnight vigils.
The resolute friends who laugh with us and cry with us in the face of the fight.
The selfless family members who have put aside their agenda to take up our agenda.
And finally.... This stirring of noise that takes on an unmistakable sound...
It tells our enemy that we are coming for it.
Fear... We are coming for you. Back off.
Doubt.. Your day is done, with your dark thoughts of what ifs and maybes.
Cancer... You are vile. We have your number. No more hiding and growing and sucking the life from my husband.
The battle cry soon echoes and rolls and resonates until I can bear the weight of being on the front line.
Do you know what my battle cry sounds like??
The battle cry is you.
You.
Praying.
Calling me.
Loving my kids.
Sharing our burden.
It's you.
It's you, speaking words of strength when I need to feel a bit stronger.
It's you, on your knees and storming heaven when I don't have any words left to pray.
Each time you utter those words,
"God, heal Sheldon.
God, bring about the miraculous.
God, pour out your peace on them now.
God, protect their boys and wrap them in your arms.
God, guide the surgeons as they go in after this monster tumor."
Each time you cry out with me in the middle of this battle.
That's my battle cry.
It tells me to stand.
It tells me I have an army.
It tells our enemy that it's on.
Next week is a big offensive in battle strategy.
Tuesday is hospital admittance and a vascular procedure to put in a filter to help protect his heart and lungs from the blood clots that are filling the veins in his leg.
Thursday is the big surgery.
Doctor Joseph is going to remove the very large, very life threatening tumor that is currently residing between Sheldon's stomach and kidney.
He's got this.
He's confident.
So...
While the front line battle rages, keep up the battle cry.
Love you.
Xo
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