I have heard the word warrior being used more often than usual these days. I love it. I love it because it encompasses so many people. I love it because the definition means a brave fighter. It’s an ancient word, derived from Old French, meaning “of war”. Warriors would save towns and villages. They would fight for kings and queens. They were fearsome travelers, alone or in groups.
These days warriors come in different forms. They often do not wear armor, but they do carry inside them a struggle, that they fight with courage and strength, sometimes every hour of their lives.
A warrior is a young wife with a baby whose husband died of cancer. She gets up for her baby and smiles for him everyday, holding back her tears. A warrior is a 50 year old woman with breast cancer who chooses to fight with all her heart to stay alive for the people that love her. A warrior is a soldier with PTSD who is trying to make it in the normal world. Often we don’t think of all the battles we win that make us warriors. The woman with depression who fights her own mind everyday, the man who has anxiety and hates to leave his house but makes it to the grocery store; these are warriors too.
Warriors are in the Starbucks line standing next to you. They are mothers, fathers, nurses, teachers. They are people who train for marathons and come in last. They are people who may or may not smile, people who may have gone through things you will never see in a lifetime.
Listen to your warrior spirit and be proud of your own battle wounds. Even the smallest of these battles can be victories.