She imagined the medieval castles being built a thousand years ago. Each brick, each stone was placed just so. The people trusted in that structure. It was secure, it was solid, it was their protection from the unknown. The castles crumbled, though. Wars came, battles were fought, and many of those castles are no longer here, or are no longer solid structures.
Her castle was crumbling. She watched as each brick fell, one by one. Uncertain of whether she ought to feel joyful or fearful, anxiety filled her. What was she supposed to build now? She had begun building this structure years ago; she had relied on it, dreamed about it, clung to it like a blanket.
And it was collapsing before her eyes.
She realized that she was trying to pick the pieces up again; trying to rebuild what had been lost, but it didn't feel right. Her structure then started to look wrong, and she almost wanted to pull more bricks down. She was now uncertain as to which bricks ought to stay, and which really should come down. She started doubting and second guessing herself.
"The Lord will fight for you, and you have only to be silent."
And so she gave up. She gave up rebuilding, and she gave up tearing down. She gave up doubting and second guessing and fearing. She gave up caring about her castle, and she gave up hating it. She gave up wanting a new one and she gave up clinging to the old one. She gave up trusting in the strength of an idealistic, castle-like dream, and she turned it over to the King.
"The Lord is my strength and my shield; in Him my heart trusts, and I am helped;
my heart exults, and with my song I give thanks to Him."
Over and out,