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He thinks I slay dragons. Me? I don't know. The beasts I thought dead keep coming back (Maybe they were hydra instead?). I can only wound, not kill, They bruise but don't bleed. My blade drives them away for moment, To wait and attack another day. One beast, maybe two at a time, I can fence and parry away. But waves after waves, all coming at once With more teeth that snap and claws that snatch Dodging, biting, scratching, attacking, All I can do is dance and pray (Let my sword stay true, let my shield stay firm, Don't let them in, please, don't let them win) And my dance and my prayers aren't enough. He thinks I slay dragons. Me? Not today. Today is for whetstones, and repair, and rest. Today is for caves and hidden tears and sleep. Tomorrow? Tomorrow, sword shining bright, We'll see what these lizards bring to the fight.

I grew up in the Southern Baptist church. My formative years were spent going to Sunday school and Awana  on Wednesdays, reading the Bible and asking questions in class. That last part got me in trouble a few times, and I'm not going to say it was perfect, but it definitely left me with some strong beliefs beyond just a religious foundation. Service is a big part of the church. The example of the apostles, who gave up everything to follow and serve the Lord and the people who needed them, is held as the Platonic ideal of Christianity. If someone has a need, you fill it. Sacrifice is part of the deal - you give of yourself to help others. Now, I freely admit that I tend to go overboard a bit with the "giving of myself" part, and will put everyone first ahead of myself. Selfishness is still a really hard thing for me to accept, because my definition of what's "selfish" tends to include what most people consider "taking care of yourself." I'