I am reminded of a story. A man is perusing a group of slaves, interested in purchasing, when he notices one slave with a demeanor unlike the rest. This slave, though toiling with his burden along with the others, appears to have a higher tilt to his head and a stronger lift of his shoulders. Though sweat covers his brow it is set firmly and determinedly and has no sign of the dejection and defeat that has etched its self on the faces of those around him. Though the whip traces its mark across his back he does not crumple beneath the pain but maintains his stature never stumbling under his burden. "That is the one I want." Says the man but he is quickly refused. " Then tell me." Asks the man. "What do you feed him? How do you care for him that he works as he does?" The owner looked on at the slave in question and answered. "We feed him the same and treat him the same. He is given the same amount of work as the others slaves. However back in his homeland he is the prince of his tribe. And no matter how we treat him and no matter the burden we give him he always remembers that he is the son of a king. And therefore he always carries himself as such."
Though I am pained at the wrong and evil things that surround me I absolutely cannot let them affect my demeanor. I am not a daughter of this world. If I was I would have every reason to be dejected under this terrible burden. No, not a daughter of this world, but rather a child of the King. I must always carry myself as such and remember that the indignation that torments me is simply my hearts cry for my true home.