Preface: I think I keep a lot in. I think I speak up when needed. I think I struggle, privately. I think I fail at many things, and while that is OK, I have a hard time with it. I carry grief on my shoulders that eats away at my soul. I think sometimes my friendships are eroding and I don't know what to do. I get up every morning and start off intentional about my actions, reactions. By the end of the day I am done; there is not much left. I miss certain comforts. I think I'm missing my kids growing up. In an effort to regain a little perspective on where I am, and who I might be, I hope to blog for 40 days about everything beyond the surface.
I am learning that parenting is one of the most rewarding, sacrificial, heart breaking thing I could ever do. It is A LOT of work, and currently, little return. It IS HARD to constantly be loving, caring, supportive and nice to people who do not believe that my intentions are true, who do not believe that I would go to the ends of the earth for them, who think I spend too much time not bowing to their every request, who are mean and hateful at times, and say to my face: "I told so-and-so that you were mean, and they agreed!" Most nights I crawl into bed and am defeated. I will try to do better tomorrow, I tell myself. My mind is at war with itself as I try to determine IF there is anything I could have done differently, more carefully. Or, is it true that I did my best and it simply will.not.be.good.enough. Could I just be loved a little bit? By the little beings who look like me?
I left my church several months ago, which means no more singing. This was a painful decision. But, it was not right to stay just to sing. I love a very BIG God, who is merciful, and beautiful, and extends grace and mercy to the very least of us. I was not in a place that (I felt) was rising to the occasion to love, show love, show light, or, listen to its members. I am at a new church which I have attending off and on over the last 7 or 8 years. It is becoming home. I volunteered to do a few things, and ultimately landed in a spot on Sundays that I like, and I feel is helpful and a use of my talents. I also, on a wild whim of a restless night, began the application process to sing with the musical worship team. It's a loooooooooong process, vetting my beliefs, my actions, my mentors, my dedication, everything. Oh yes, and my singing. At long last, YES you are good enough. Good job. We will be in touch soon to get you in the rotation. Haven't heard back since. It's been well over 2 months. So, I wait. Sure I could speak up, and I might. For now I land steady on uncertainty of who I am, did they re-think my participation? Or, am I just forgotten? That's cool. THAT is the story of my life. So, I just truck on, sign up for my other duty on Sunday, with a smile, and sing and learn from my perch.
I think I am girl who lost herself in the shuffle of life. I tie it all up in a package and present it to the world with determination and hope. But, I don't know how determined or hopeful a heart full of chaos, doubt, and worry can be. By the end of the day all the strings keeping me together have fallen untied, worn and frayed.