Skip to main content

Themes and Invitations

As I peruse old journals from years past, it's fascinating that I've been wrestling with the same struggle for years and years and years.

Motherhood.  Mission.  Me.

Its theme has been playing since I became a mother.  With each passing year, it morphs and intensifies until it reaches a critical mass and I am compelled to make changes.

The magnitude and soul-shaking need this time has left me questioning everything.

My marriage is teetering precariously.

I'm breathless at times.


The wisdom inside me asks me to go deeper.  To shake off the belief that my children need me here.  It asks me to sever the chains of "they will suffer without my constant presence."

She whispers, "Go Deeper."

The layers underneath call me to provide evidence.  Fact check those please.  When there's no evidence to provide, the wisdom says, "Stay. Keep Looking."

And the tears begin to flow.

There she is.  I see her now.

Little Laurisa.  Sad.  Worried.  Wanting to be mothered.  Wanting someone to talk to.  Wanting someone to hold her, to touch her affectionately.  Wanting to know there's something steady, someone steady that she can count on.

There she is.


Today she's going to be held.

Today she has a listening ear.

I will be her Mother.

Today I'll touch her affectionately.

I'll show her that there's something steady; someone she can count on.

Today she has me.

Every day she will have me.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

What is it all For? (our musical journey)

In the nine years since I became a mother, I have often pondered the purpose of music in our mortal experience. In observing each of my children, it was apparent within the first few weeks of life that each newborn understood the language of music. Music calms and soothes them. Music enlivens and liberates them. Children and adults of all ages naturally connect with music, and express themselves through it.  We are all excited, liberated, and calmed by it. As a preschooler, Holden was especially drawn to musical notes, and began composing original melodies at three years old. When he was four years old he begged me to teach him how to play the piano. We began the beginner books together, and he LOVED it! As his abilities grew and his love for the instrument blossomed, and I began feeling pressure to find him a "real" teacher. After a highly recommended referral, we hired a young college student who was studying music at the university to come to our house once a week to t...
Post a Comment
Read more

The Loss Is Not So Great

It is better as it is: I have failed but I can sleep; Though the pit I now am in is very dark and deep I can walk tomorrow's streets and can meet tomorrow's men Unashamed to face their gaze as I go to work again. I have lost the hope I had; in the dust are all my dreams, But my loss is not so great or so dreadful as it seems; I made my fight and though I failed I need not slink away For I do not have to fear what another man may say. They may call me over-bold, they may say that I was frail; They may tell I dared too much and was doomed at last to fail; They may talk my battle o'er and discuss it as they choose, But I did no brother wrong-- I'm the only one to lose. It is better as it is: I have kept my self-respect. I can walk tomorrow's streets meeting all men head erect. No man can charge his loss to a pledge I did not keep; I have no shame to regret: I have failed, but I can sleep. -Edgar A. Guest "The Loss Is Not So Great" When Day Is Done
Post a Comment
Read more

She Who Walks Down My Street

From the place where I'm sitting, I hear her cane thumping long before she's in sight. I'm feeling busied, hurried, tired from many commitments in my day. I've sat down to rest but the sitting-still makes me feel antsy. I wish there were someone to sit-still with. I feel flustered about my kids being on their phones; so I pick up my phone and begin to scroll. I feel lonely, I feel mad. I wonder if I have the right to blame anyone but me. And then I hear the thumping. Thump, step, step. Thump, step, step. I instinctively lay my phone down as a salute of respect. She's walking. Just. Walking. She's not texting five people, watching a webinar, stressing about her teens on their phones, rotating laundry, feeling lost about running an organization, planning grocery lists for birthdays and campouts or endlessly wrestling with the state of her marriage. She's just walking. Thump, step, step. Thump, step, step. I can feel my breath moving in and out. My hands now em...
Post a Comment
Read more