When doing ancestral research (years and years ago), I found the Gorman family crest and motto. Gorman devolved from the Gaelic Mac Gormáin. The information I pulled form ancestry.com at the time explains the etymology:

‘son (or descendant) of Gormán’, a personal name from a diminutive of gorm ‘dark blue’, ‘noble’.

Gorman Family History, ancestry.com (c) 2017

The motto: First and last in war.

I had just looked it up again yesterday, because I couldn’t recall what it was.

Then, I was reflecting on it this morning. First and last in war… does the war ever stop?

The Gorman Coat of Arms
“First and last in war.”

It reminded me of a conversation I had with my dad a few days ago. He was telling me about how he called 9-1-1 because he thought he was having a heart attack. How he asked his neighbor to watch his dog. How his neighbor called the pound. How he wouldn’t let the doctors do any work on him until he got in touch with the pound to make sure his dog was okay, etc. He said, “I fought ’em every step of the way!” Proud of it. “You know how I am.”

“Yeah, I bet you did.”

I have a lot of blessings in my life, and I also experience struggle, uncertainty, sorrow. They’re all the same, in truth. It all just depends on your perspective. Are you seeking to understand the source? How deeply are you looking? How keenly are you exploring the world(s) you’ve created, and/or allowed to be created, around – and for – yourself?

I’ve been healing my subtle bodies, quite diligently, and not always gracefully. It comes in cycles. One wound leads to another. I recognize them for the most part, but sometimes I forget. Sometimes I get distracted. Sometimes I think I’m done, I wipe my hands clean and step forward. Sometimes I get stuck. And sometimes, like my dad, I fight them every step of the way.

This primal urge to protect. I’ve lived with it myself for so long, unknowingly mostly. I’ve had the shield in place forever it seems; or it was given to me, perhaps. A birthday gift. Protection from the day I was born. Yes, that feels right. Thomas. He has dirty blonde hair, wavy, long. He’s showing himself in armor, and as I look again for a horse, the image fades away. I swear he was on one when I first saw him. He wants to tell me a story. One of valor. So it’s time to switch gears.

At the core of everything is the spiral. The building block of life. DNA.

I’m the last Gorman in my line. I’ll listen to Thomas’ story, I’ll honor my family’s history, and together we’ll end the war.

So help us God.

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