I have started this no less than 5 times. I can’t get it right. So I am going to quit trying to get it right and concentrate on getting it out.
An upside of my past year and a half is a new found focus on faith. I’ve always been spiritual though not religious. I try to live an honest life where I do what’s right. I teach honesty. I love my babies. I try and show them that they are loved. I take care of them. I try and llewrn from my mistakes. I am trying to be less judgemental. And I am trying to learn faith.
Faith is not easy. And it’s personal. And I am not quite ready to talk about it because it’s too new. But it’s important so I am going to try.
I’ve prayed a lot for strength. I’ve prayed for help and I’ve prayed for understanding. I’ve prayed for wisdoms and patience and guidance. I have prayed because I am lost and I’ve prayed to let go of control so I could let it be what it will be. I’ve prayed for clarity.
Faith is not easy.
I’ve tried to be thankful for what I have and not focused on what I don’t have. I’ve made it a habit to find the good in everything. I’ve worked hard and believed that was enough.
But I am tired. Last week I allowed myself to give up control for 10 seconds and cried–a hard nasty cry where I said, aloud, “why??? What am I not doing? What do you want from me???” Because a “broken” daughter, ends that weren’t meeting and a resurgence of a stress level from 2 years ago were all returning–at the same time—and I was empty. But I only had 10 minutes. So I cried and railed and then sucked it up and got about doing what I do.
But I couldn’t shake it. That “ugh”. It wasn’t the “broken child” or the increasing money demands…those were things and I can handle things. I am/was tired. I just wanted to be able to, for a few minutes, say “I am overwhelmed” and have someplace safe to lay my head or my burden-even for just a minute. That’s what’s hardest. The aloneness. The handling of it all without having anyone to say, “I got this one,” to a decision….any decision. Being a single mom means every decison from what’s for dinner to how to put a broken child back together is made solo. Alone. It means questioning every decison is done-alone. It means the burdens are all mine to carry. And when they get to heavy….well….you give yourself 10 minutes to fall apart and then you pick them back up and keep trucking.
I kept trucking because that’s what I do. I kept praying because that’s what I am trying to learn to do. I kept doing the right thing because that’s what you are supposed to do. I kept working. I kept believing. Not because I had reason to but because to quit believing just isn’t an option. And I believe in what’s right even if I know better then to believe in fair.
But the burdens are heavy.
And then, at the Dentist of all places, I heard a song. It was a heavy day in a heavy week but I was finding a reason to be proud because I was changing my story from “once was my anniversary” sad to a celebratory “finishing the surgery”. I was wrapping up one of my burdens. I was lightening my own load.
And I heard it, JUST BE HELD by Casting Crowns.
I didn’t know a song could offer comfort. But it did. It has. It reminds me what I need to do–surrender snd letting go—and a promise of being held. I am so tired of fighting-even the song says that- and I want to learn to give up control. I do. I want to find comfort and feel like I am being held. I also want something-anything-to come without a fight. I don’t want to fight for everything. I want right to be right without a fight. But I can’t control that.
Tonight I got home, late at almost 8:30. My big girl had been home alone most of the day sick with horrible female pains. My baby girl with her ever present hurting tummy and her ever present bad days was running around crazy. My dinner, white rice, was getting cold and I did my mommy duties. I was tired and weary and was desperately in need of a sounding board. I’d made a decison to do something that was either brazen and bold or stupid and I wished, desperately, for someone to talk to about it. But my little ones didn’t care about the chance I took. They wouldn’t even understand. They just needed money in their lunch accounts, to know how often you could take pamprin and to ask for gas money.
And so I went about my night feeling sad and weary and wistful. I didn’t actively wish for someone that I could say,”…so I decided to do this day…” Because to do so would be wasteful. I went through the motions of my night physically while mentally replaying scenario after scenario in my mind.
“Mama, I dot your phone,” my girl giggled when I spied her, on the potty. Sure enough. There was my phone. Her fat little fingers were busy swiping away. I turned to give her some privacy but she stopped me. “Wait mama!” She was busy swiping and pressing buttons. “I don-nah do sum-fin for you.” Right then and there the strands to Just be Held played. “I know it’s your favorite.”
And so it played. My song. My anthem.