I sit. The soothing music from Ann’s blog, “A Holy Experience,” washes over me and soothes. I love reading her posts, her words have a warming feel- like the reading of a letter from one’s dearest friend.
Pain shoots through my ever-growing abdomen, and the life inside me adds to the discomfort by kicking out against the walls of flesh and blood that confine and protect and nourish him. My three year old son sniffles and coughs from the adjacent room as his tininess fights a viral infection- and I feel complete and utter helplessness wash over my worn body. The knowledge that his life is not in my hands- his comfort- I cannot provide his every need. This truth wears at me.
My nerves grind and blood pulses fast. The crying won’t stop. The pains. The exhaustion. The stress of debt constantly calling. Finances get lost in the mommy, pregnancy, sleep-deprived head on these shoulders. Conversations never happen that should. Expectations and disappointments. Surgeries and uncertainties.
A car to fit our constant growing family. Paint to freshen bedroom walls.
And I want to scream. To release something pent up inside. I envy the balloon that is able to shoot through the room as it releases the air that makes it bulge to just before breaking. I raise my voice at the kids or make angry on my face, and then feel as though I have failed. Everything I am doing wrong- the culmination. But I’m tired and they’re sick. I’m sick and they’re tired.
I take pictures to capture, to freeze in space for all time, those moments in which I find traces of perfection. And I realize I expect a picture perfect life. Looking through others’ life catalogues, their frozen perfects, I feel as though they are accomplishing this life. And I have failed.
To put up framed glimpses of
Calm. Happy. Peace. Joy. Love. Simplicity. Beauty.
All together in a never ending flipbook. And I am so ridiculous as to think that’s what everyone has but me.
And when I just want to cry or escape I feel shallow- that what grates at me and forces my jaws to grind bone against bone, is, in all actuality, a fleeting moment in this life. And it’s not worth the stress.
But how to handle responsibility without stress? To hold to Truth, and live each day to its fullest? To live out an example for my children to follow, and not get caught up in the things of this life and their fleetingness.
To trust. And follow.
To break. And to be mended.