I never thought of myself as brave
I’m just a regular kinda person
I’m not afraid of bugs, or dogs, or heights
Or blood, or flying, or speaking up in public
But I never saw myself as particularly brave
Would I drop everything and run
into a blazing building to save a child?
I’d like to think so, but if I had to be honest
I think I’m the type to freeze up and just stand there staring, horrified,
While others rush around helping and doing and saving
Would I hold onto my beliefs and affirm my trust in G-d
And rather be burned by the stake than denounce my faith?
I wish I could give a resounding YES…
But how could I know that for sure?
Would I be willing to donate a kidney
to a complete stranger?
Would I have the courage to enter the gas chambers with my head held high,
still believing in His goodness?
Would I make the split-second decision to run in front of a truck
to save a little child?
Would I behave like the people on Flight 93
if I found myself faced with a terrorist?
Would I act like my grandfather did
as he ran from the Nazis?
I have never been tested in such big ways.
I’ve been told that I’m brave.
That facing my fears and doing what needs to be done
That by taking up my tiny dagger against the huge and terrifying monster…
And not hiding from myself
And not lying to myself
And taking that leap into the abyss
And trusting that this fall is what needs to be done…
And believing that He knows what’s best for me
And loves me
And won’t let me die…
And putting all my energy and strength and faith and sweat and blood and tears
Into this task that seems so incredibly impossible…
And waking up every morning with the decision to keep doing this…
And still moving forward
With a smile
And a thin but unwavering song woven tightly around my heart
Even when life comes again to smack me in the face…
………That by doing all this………
I am being