My sword crashed on the shield, and I locked eyes with my combatant. The fate of the backyard hung in the balance, and I was fighting for goodness and freedom.
Okay. It wasn’t a sword, it was a stick. And it wasn’t a shield (or even an opponent), it was a tree. I was 8 years old and playing in the woods, and I was a hero. I wanted to use all of my child strength to leave the world a better place. So what happened to that feeling? Why are we so cynical now?
You might be asking the same questions. We look around at the world we live in today, and we scroll through social media, and what do we find? Hope is rare. Few still believe in our country or even in freedom. Many don’t even see the concept of true beauty as meaningful. It’s all relative—or so they say. We might begin to wonder if there is anything worth fighting for.