courage

Yes.

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Yesterday was Mother’s Day.  I read many posts on Facebook.  Honoring mothers living and remembering those passed.

My own is gone.  His is gone as well.  Yes.  There are many moments I wonder how different my life would be had they still been here.  I miss them.  I love them.  I long to see them.

But, I direct my focus to my children.  To being a mother.  Both of them are amazing people.  They live incredible lives and create positive relationships with the people around them.  I am proud of them and love them more than I can sometimes contain.  So much love fills me it pours from my eyes in liquid form.

I always pushed them to never be afraid.  To be cautious and careful and sensible, but never afraid.  They are living out their dreams.  No.  Life is not perfect for any of us, but they take hold and run with the opportunities presented.

I am so very grateful for my parenting partner.  He is still my hero.  When we met, I was confused and afraid.  He fought his way through the barriers I had created around me and took hold of my heart.  I still keep barriers up around myself.  I still think I have hidden things.  But, on occasion, he makes a comment or something and I realize, he sees through the mask I wear.

He knows the hidden things.  The struggles, the disappointments, the pain.  He does not let me dwell on the negative things.  When I am “off-stage”, I tend to be depressed and discouraged.  He knows this and watches carefully to take action if I drift too close to the edge.  How many times has he pulled me back from despair that overwhelms me?

He has been father and mother to me these many years.  Poor fella!  Yes, I miss my mother.  Yes, I miss his mother.  Yes, I adore our children more than I can express.  Yes, I am grateful to Him for giving me him to be my strength, my courage, my champion, my guardian.

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Flood

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He and I walked down to see the muddy water boiling through the gates from the lake into the flooding river bed.

This gushing torrent is pouring from the same serene lake whose lovely face I have shared previously.  She is overloaded with rain and bursting at the seams.  Not her normal self.

I know how she feels.  I have a torrent of thoughts flooding my mind.  I recently filled one of my paper journals and switched to a fresh one.  I keep hauling around the old one.  I have been back through it several times trying to figure out what I am afraid to discard or shelve.  Finally, yesterday, while again going over the pages, I realized the whispers of the bigger story I want to tell is started there.

I shared with my friend today my idea of what I want to tell.  She had asked me if I have taken classes or is my writing a gift.  I don’t know about it being a gift, but, no I haven’t taken writing classes.  I haven’t even read many books on the prescribed reading lists from high school or college.  I simply write.  I have written forever.  When the prescribed writing of school days ended, the pen of teenage passion waned, and my babies were big enough to play without constant surveillance, I began journaling.  From the first time I heard about the concept of blogging, I wanted to try it.

I always wanted to be like John Boy Walton and write stories.  I never felt I had a story to write.  I still don’t have a fiction story to write.  My cousin encourages me to write the book.  I want to tell my story.  Every woman’s story.  Wish me courage.  Wish me discipline.  Wish me strength.

I fear letting the story come forth, I will become like this raging river boiling from the depths of the lake.  Churning out of control and spilling forth over the banks meant to contain me.  The banks of calm rationality I try so hard to maintain.  But, dear reader, you know I despise fear.  Here is a fear I must overcome and free myself.  He will hold on to me when I start to go under.  He will not let me be pushed to the bottom of the churning turmoil of emotional energy.  He will lift me up to Him in his prayers and we will ride out another flood of life together.

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