Brave

So often people will tell me how brave I am because of where I live and what I do. There are so many reasons I really struggle with this statement. I don't live my life in continual, imminent danger. I have a pretty decent life to be honest. For the most part I enjoy my job. There are people all over the world who are through circumstance showing themselves to be so much braver than me. There are definitely people doing this work who are far braver than me. And of course, here, I hear stories of bravery on a daily basis. Last night I heard about a restaurant owner in Mosul who tackled a suicide bomber in the street in order to protect the customers in his restaurant. He literally sacrificed himself. And around here, these stories aren't exactly hard to come by. Go and sit with someone who has fled their home and you will never cease to be amazed by their stories of bravery. It will humble you. So, no, I don't feel brave.

But I came across this quote the other day and it brought me up short:

'Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says I'll try again tomorrow.' Mary Anne Radmacher.

When I read that I realised that sums me up a lot of the time. This work is draining. It's emotionally exhausting and I often feel like I'm running on empty by the end of the day. I have ideas in my head of all the things I need to do in order to make my offices run better and our projects have a greater impact, but all I end up doing is fire-fighting issues; and there's no time left to make the big changes. I miss my family and my friends. Some days I miss them A LOT. Especially my utterly gorgeous niblings - they give me literal heart-ache. Sometimes I lose my temper with my staff. Sometimes I'm impatient with them. Some days I leave the office before some of them and feel guilty that I'm not the first one in and the last one out. Occasionally I'm somewhere where I can hear the indirect fire and I'm momentarily afraid. Sometimes my thoughts run to what might or could happen and the fear creeps in. Other weeks I'm worried that being here, choosing this life and this work, has cost me a different life and I get worried and sad about that. To be frank, I'm not exactly displaying a 'roaring' bravery on a day to day basis.

But 2 and a bit years later, I'm still here. Still getting up every day and trying to make a difference. I'm not here because I'm brave, but I'm realising staying here, sticking it out, does take courage. For me, my courage is born out of my faith - it's not my courage, it's His courage in me. I believe I'm where I should be, and on the tough days it's that knowledge that gives me the courage to continue. On the easy days, it's this that allows me to fully enjoy where I am and what I'm doing. And I'm grateful that for the most part, this feels like a glorious adventure.