I put down the pen for awhile during our transition to Florida. Journaling has always been a source of comfort and release for me. Blogging is interesting. As a writer I am drawn to it, but its public nature is somewhat unnerving for me. I often wonder what stranger at a distant computer is reading the words that I have just spoken. But I love sharing life. A shared life is a lighter and more joyous one.
I have been struggling with one of the most important roles I will ever have: mother. Never in a million years did I think it would be this hard. I remember the flood of emotions that washed over me when R was placed in my arms. I cried exuberant tears and in that very moment, every star in the universe was aligned and the angels were singing and praising the birth of this precious new child. After nine months of agony and consuming thoughts, this boy was the expectant one...not me. Expecting what? Every day I ask myself that very question. When I transitioned from full-time working mom to stay-at-home manual laborer, I found myself waking up in the morning terrified and asking "what am I supposed to do with you all day?" The creative thinker was bone dry. I was known for my improvisation skills and unlimited ideas and in the eyes of my three-year-old child...my resourcefulness was extremely limited. I actually Googled what I should be doing with these children. Funny and not funny all at the same time.
For the longest time, I have not felt guilty about much of anything. One of my favorite things to say is "It is what it is." But in this role as stay-at-home mom, G is the letter of the day. G is for Guilt. If I do not have a fabulous home-cooked meal on the table, I apologize. If my children don't look perfect, I wonder why I couldn't get it together. If R has to wear pull-ups to bed because I didn't have clean underwear for him, I think I have completely lost control. I have called myself selfish for liking Facebook too much or for wanting to go shopping during what I like to call "child primetime" (any time other than naps). The guilt of course leads to action plans, checklists, rescheduling and generally assigning myself a new personality.
Enough! Enough. The craziness must end. God gives us just what we need and trusts us with the things he has given us responsibility over. If He believes in me, why don't I believe in myself?
The question remains, what am I supposed to be doing with these children all day?
The biggest task I have is to love my children. To truly love...love my children. And do I ever love these precious ones. But do I love them like God loves me? I think our Creator "hung the moon" both literally and as a figure of speech. The peace and joy that I have from a relationship with Christ is so beautiful and miraculous. I have peace and reassurance because of the faith that I have in Him. Do my children have peace because of me? Or do my children inherit anxiety and mental chaos because of the world I create.
While my children sleep, I am creating a new to-do list for tomorrow:
Blow bubbles
Talk about dreams
Create vivid imagery from the story I will read
Hold my children and look deep in their eyes
Go for a walk in a peaceful place
Pray for them while they are awake
Pray for them while they are awake
Because who they are tomorrow is a result of who I am today.
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