Ready Now

I was driving home from work just now, and I was listening to the radio.  (Old fashioned, I get it, most people plug in whatever electronic device they can to avoid commercials.)  Anyway, we live in a small town, and as such, the "seek" button really just bounces around between like 5 stations.  As it was "searching" for that perfect song for me to sing along with, I pulled into our parking lot, and parked.  Just as I was turning the car off, one line came out of those speakers.

"Lord, I'm ready now."

The engine stopped, the words stuck, and I happened to look at the steering wheel.
The words "coast set" for the cruise control on the car then etched themselves into my mind just as the song had.

I didn't turn the car back on to actually hear the song, but I did just sit in the cold for a moment.  I started thinking about that "coast set" button, and the single line from whatever song happened to be on the radio echoed in my mind over, and over, and over again.

"Lord, I'm ready now."
Coast set.

I started thinking about life, and how often I talk to God in my own way.  I don't always pray, nor do I really emphasize any religious aspect of my life.  I just live, and in living, I talk to God.  I think about Him, I think about the natural order, or logical rightness, of things.  Sometimes things make sense, and other times they don't.  Sometimes I accept what I cannot change, and other times I bull forward until what I feel is right finds its place in my heart.

Coast set.

Then there are those moments that I forget I am even driving.  I get into a lane, stop focusing on everything around me, and set my cruise.  I forget about it all, and what really needs focus is suddenly front and center.  "Lord I'm ready now."  Coast set.

Now I can't say that everyone sees strange or personal signs in everything they do in life.  Some people say we find what we search for.  Some people search for deeper meaning in their life in many different ways.  I don't believe any one way is right, and another wrong.  In my mind, as long as you are simply searching for greater purpose, and in turn a greater self awareness in your life, then you are doing everything right.  My life happens to incorporate God.  Everywhere.  In everything.
But my statement to God is usually more phrased as a question.  Lord, am I ready now?  Am I focusing too much on my speed, or my destination, or even (and maybe especially) the people around me?  Do I give in to road rage, and anger more often than I should in my hurry to rush through the day to day, thus forgetting the time I have to coast along?  Not coast in a lazy, idle, sense, but coast in the sense of ease as I move through whatever challenges, or blessings, life happens to give me.
Do I trust enough?
Do I give enough?
Am I enough?

The song, and my steering wheel button, were both a small but gentle reminder from my everywhere God.  Life can be messy, and that's okay.  His advice should be sought, and that's okay.  He wants me near, He wants you near.  But He also wants us to move.  He wants us to go.
He wants us to stop asking, sometimes.
Lord, am I ready?  Don't just ask, do.  Move.  Go.
Declare it with confidence, and zeal, then grab onto your life and cruise.
I'm ready now.
Coast set.  

Just Cry

Sometimes I am just not a strong person.  Sometimes, I can't see through the fog of a bad day.  A bad week.  A bad month.  Sometimes?  Sometimes any regret I have ever had consumes my dreams.  Sometimes?  Sometimes I just want to lay down, curl up, and cry.

Have you ever found yourself in this cycle of life where you go around, and around, and around, and life changes, you even change, but a very small part of your heart just remains broken?  Just broken.  Many know my past; many even know my past mistakes.  We all have them.  We all have these regrets, these horrible decisions we wish we could just take back.  We have all hurt people, sometimes seemingly unforgivably, and we've all (usually) found ways to mend what could be mended then moved forward with hope for a brighter future.

Time has taught me something about regret.  Sometimes?  Sometimes it never leaves.  We forgive, we are forgiven, but this tiny ache tends to carry itself within that broken part of our heart without any kind of outlet.  It sneaks up without warning, and in the strangest of circumstances.  We think, "That was so long ago!  Why is it still bothering me?!"  Well, sometimes?  Sometimes it bothers you, sometimes it bothers me, to remind us that we are indeed broken.
We are broken, and that's okay.

Now, I am a spiritual person, so before you go Christian on me, trust me, I've done all that.  Also, therapy.  Don't go there either.  But I've had an epiphany tonight.  An epiphany about this regret; this ache.  It may never fully heal.  It may never go away.  When I think about the people I hurt?  Good, wonderful, people.  When I think about the things that happened?  It's emotionally, and excruciatingly, suffocating.  Sometimes, I have to stop, and sit.  Sometimes I think about picking up the phone and saying I'm sorry all over again.  But then I remember where they are in life; they've moved on.  And truthfully?  So have I.

Even with growth, the pain of the past will never fully leave.  On the road we travel, we often find ourselves looking back and wondering how we might have made the journey smoother.  Then we look forward and wonder what mountains lay ahead.  The truth of the past lies in who we've become because of it.  Have we changed?  Have we grown?  Have we removed the toxic negativity of broken dreams, shattered hearts, and unfulfilled wishes?  Where we are now matters more than where we have been, but where we have been led us to where we are now.
Don't be ashamed of it.
Don't hide from it.
Embrace it.
And remember?
When that little ache finds its way into your thoughts, and you find yourself wondering how you could have been better?
Just cry.
And be better now.
    

It's Your Soul

So we live in a new place.  It's a beautiful place.  But?  Believe it or not, I am shy.  I am.  And?  Getting to know "new moms" is akin to dating.  How should I look?  What kind of first impression am I giving?  Do I really care what they think?  Sort of.  Maybe a little.  Not a lot, but some.
Seriously.  Dating.

In fact, today when I dropped Jack off at school I had on no makeup (let's face it, that's a daily deal) and I wasn't wearing a bra.  Yup.  No bra.  No makeup.  I guess I really am a "granola cruncher."  Now I just need a Subaru.

Anyway, getting to know people has been a slow process.  I kind of hide in a little shell until you really get to know me.  I think a lot of people do it, I am sure I am not the only one.  Needless to say I guess I come off as a bit "come offish."  I have gotten to know this one really neat lady, though.  Her name is Sarah.  We've talked a few times, but nothing in depth.  She did tell me though that she is an artist.  As she was describing her art, she began to tear up, and said, "Sometimes it's hard to let yourself out there like that.  You open yourself up, and people can rip you apart."

Well, this weekend is the "art weekend" here in Moab.  I asked her today if she was going to be showing any of her art.  She replied quietly, "I don't know.  Maybe."
I responded,
"Don't be afraid of what other people think.  Just remember, it's your soul.  Not theirs."

It's your soul.  It's my soul.  As I was driving home, I thought about it more.  It's my soul, not theirs.  Like Sarah, I often get shy when it comes to any talent I feel I might have.  I also get shy about who I am.  Today for example, with this post.  I am putting it out for anyone in the world to judge.  They may hate it, they may like it, I may never know which.  But?  Shouldn't I just do it anyway?
Shouldn't I exemplify who I am inside by simply being me?  Whoever I decide that me should be on any given day?
It's my soul.  Not theirs.

We live in a world that is so annoyingly loud sometimes it becomes very difficult to hear anything other than the tantrums of others.  It is in moments like today; moments.  I see the world around me.  I really look at my own life, and I remember who I am deep down.  Sometimes I am a bra-less, make-up-less, granola cruncher that wouldn't mind sitting under waterfalls, singing along with a band of hippies.  Other days I feel more grounded as I sit with my sons and remember my pride in the role of mother, and my stay at home status.  
I am me, and I am many different variations at many different times.
And?  That's okay.

Be proud of who you are, and share it with the world around you.  You are not talent-less, nor are you required to fit any other mold than the one God created for you.  You are you.  And that?
That is a beautiful thing.
It's your soul.  Not theirs.
  

 

Knowing

 I thought I knew what it meant to be a mother; a woman.  I thought I understood how to control my emotions; my thoughts.  I thought I knew that taking care of tiny people was something I would grow accustomed to, and every day I would find it a little bit easier.  I thought I knew.
I didn't know.

We all know that as humans we are repetitive little creatures.  We learn a lesson, then we forget it, then we learn again.  We all have this very unpleasant side.  A side that shows itself in uncomfortable situations.  Uncomfortable, unpleasant situations.  I do my best to control it.  But sometimes the burr is too much to handle.  Sometimes I find myself slipping.  I slip into that ugly.  I slip into the ugly part of my unpleasant self.  It's often for merely a moment, but the moment is enough to provide a stark reminder of how much I have to work on.
How much I have to grow.

It's days like today, mornings like this morning, where I find myself sitting.  I find myself sitting, rubbing my temples and thinking, "Good Heaven, it's only 930 am."  There are days like today where I envy those who have silence.  I envy the quiet  The peace.  On days like this people tell me in their age old wisdom, "Oh, but you will miss this."  No.  I won't miss this.  I will miss the tiny people, sure, but I won't miss the screaming.  I won't miss the yelling.  I won't miss the messes, the illogical debates with toddlers in a control battle, and I won't miss hearing every 5 minutes, "I'm hungry.  I need another snack."
That I do know.

What I also know, however, is what I will miss.  I will miss a lot of things, but grant me the right to complain a little, will you?  I don't know many things, I have a lot of room to grow, but I am also not naive.
Imperfect as I am, I do recognize that these hellish moments will not last.
I do recognize that time is precious, and I do my best to make the most of it.
I don't know many things, but I am aware that in my flawed self it is okay to sit here.
It is okay to breathe and look forward to the future.

I will never be done learning.  I will never be done growing.
As a woman, as a mother.
Sometimes I might think I have a handle on my life.  As soon as that happens, rest assured God will remind me of the importance in holding on.  He did just that today.  I thought I knew; I didn't know.
I am flawed; I am incomplete.
It's true.
And I am okay with that.


 

See

Growing up I was always taught not to judge a person; ever.  Not by the way they look, not by the way they act, not ever.  Live and let live, or so the saying goes.

What is the measure of a man?  Or woman?  Humanity itself?  The world is so full of emotion.  The world is so full of opinion.  I put on a swimsuit, uncovering what is often covered and wonder, "do they notice the scars?"  I put on a mask of emotion then wonder, "can they tell that I am broken today?"  We smile.  We cry.  We laugh.  We hurt.
We judge.

The examples are many and everyone at some point has been on one end or the other.  Sometimes it's a simple statement.  "Look at what that person is wearing; or not wearing."  We point. We snicker.
We're rude.

The truth is the scars cannot be seen; what is broken is often hidden.  Can you see my heart?  Do you know who I am?  If you do not, here is my heart.
Take it.  Feel it.  Touch it.  Hold it.
Hold me.
Hold humanity.
Hold decency.

See my heart?  Take it.  Touch it. Feel it.  Hold it.
See me.  See me as a whole.  See you.  See you as a whole.
Look in the mirror, then look around.  Goodness can be found everywhere.  Greatness is in everyone.  Don't snicker.  Don't point.  Love.
My opinion is not your opinion, and yours is not mine.  Are we different?  Yes.
Must we point it out?  Must we rely only on our differing demons?
Must we cling to a constant barrage of disdain or anger in an attempt to "fix" what we deem to be wrong in another?
Why must we be so opinionated?  Why must we be so harsh?  Where is kindness?  Where is decency?
Find it again.

Take the heart. Touch it.  Feel it.  When you see, see wholly, not partially.
Love truly, love deeply.
Love the difference.
The world needs a great deal more of it.
Hold humanity.  Hold decency.
Be kind.

Second Isn't Special

Second, it seems, isn't special.  When it comes to the order of birth, I was the second child.  I never minded being the second child.  My parents would say (and I can attest to this line as a parent myself), "I did a lot with the first that I wouldn't do with the second."  Doing something for the first time brings with it many mistakes.  As a parent, I made many mistakes with Jack.  I still do.  Why?  He is the first.  Almost everything done with him is done for the first time.  But with James?  It's most likely been done before.

Now, the purpose of this post isn't to point out that the second child in a family isn't special.  As a second child myself, I can attest this isn't the case.  The point of this post is to show that in the world, second is never quite first.  Second place is never first place.  Second in line means you have to wait.  If you are number two, then you aren't number one, and there is something wrong with that.  If you are number two, then you didn't work hard enough.  You didn't do enough.

With that, doing something for the second time doesn't hold the same magic.  Most would say, "Been there, done that."  Some things are cool enough to do over and over again, it's true.  (Disneyland, anyone?)  But it seems, for the most part, if it's a second time, it isn't special.  

And that bothers me.

What's wrong with second?  Have we become so desensitized to what it means to put someone, or something, else first?  As a parent, it's done every day.  Whether you want to or not, you put those little people you care for first, period.  If you don't?  Well, if you don't the disasters that would follow could essentially be deadly.  You have to.  It is in that "have to" we sometimes lose sight of how special being second really is.  When you are second you get to be a witness to the first.

Sometimes we get so caught up in what it means to take care of ourselves, we put what we want or what we do first, and we forget to remember there are more important things.  In this technological age, too many technological things get in the way.  Life is noisy, and in that noise we become deaf to what really matters.  Open your ears, open your eyes.  Being second means many things.  If you are second, then you can put someone else first.  Being second reminds you of humanity, and weakness.  Being second means you can be better.  Having seconds means you were grateful for the first.  

Second is sacred.

As with all things, balance.  It is okay to be first sometimes.  But remember; time is measured with seconds.  Time is all that we have on this earth.  If our seconds are sacred, then our time is well spent.

And that makes second special.   

       

Listen

There is this voice.  Sometimes it's loud.  Sometimes it's quiet.  Sometimes this voice is in my head; sometimes this voice sounds its opinion from the middle of my heart.  I even find this voice in the pit of my stomach.  This voice isn't limited to my own body, either.  Sometimes I can hear it in the wind, or the trees.  The point is, the voice is everywhere and it is nowhere.
But it always brings me back to my center.

Today has been a Monday.  Mondays tend to live up to their name in being a lethargic, why can't it still be the weekend, day.  The voice won't let alone.
"Listen" it says.
My husband lost a friend over the weekend; listen.
My kids won't stop fighting; listen.
My mental and physical tanks are constantly drained; listen.

The thoughts in my head.  Being a mother requires more sacrifice than I ever imagined; listen.  Why do we wear so many hats to be so many different things in so many different ways?  Men and women go to work then come home, then they wake up and do it all over again.  Other men and women stay home and raise children to grow up, and their children will then grow to do the same thing over and over again.
What's the point?
Listen.

Listen to what?  The heart?  The head?  What if they are fighting?  Do I listen to my gut?  The conflict within concerning life and its purpose seems to ebb and flow like the wind in the trees.  Do I listen to that?
Listen.  Listen.  Listen.

Everything is so loud.  The opinions of every individual in the world sits at our fingertips; the constant need for more.  Society seems to wake up every day unsatisfied; life will never be satisfying enough.  It's hard not to listen to that.  More.
There must be more.
"I am missing something, somewhere, somehow" says society.
More.

Everything is so loud.  The wind in the trees.  It's so calm, and the trees sway as if dancing with the wind.  Ebb and flow.  Calm.  Everything is so loud; calm.  Hear it.  My youngest was screaming at lunch, my oldest sang "if you're happy and you know it, clap your hands" trying to help.  Screaming, and singing.  The screaming, the singing.  Ebb and flow, listen.  Like the trees with the wind, dance.
Sway.
Let life flow through you.  Let life be you.

Just listen.      

   

Begin Again

There is something to be said about experience.  There is something to be said about learning.  The simple truth of life these days is this; everything I think I know, or every realization I have made in life, tends to repeat itself in multiple, varying forms.

I read a blog post this morning about a young mother who is discovering how beautiful she is through the eyes of her 5 month old daughter.

I remember those days.  I remember when Jack was first born, then James, and watching my body change.  I remember thinking those negative thoughts (sometimes I still do) then replacing them with, "but look at what was created because of it?!"  I remember berating, then forgiving, then berating and forgiving myself time after time as I stumbled through those first parenting years. (Also something I still do)  

My thought process seems to begin again.  Over and over and over and over and over again.

There are moments of clarity in this life that cannot be described with words.  Moments where you look at yourself, and your life, and you find this absolute contentment and assurance that everything is exactly as it should be.  

Then a week later you think.  "Well.  What the #@!! happened here...."

Fact.  I am a mother.  Fact.  I have been through some "stuff."  Fact.  I have overcome that "stuff."

Fact.  Never in my life will I completely understand why, regardless of what has been overcome, the constant nature of endurance never, ever ends.

Some days I look to God and, with all the gratitude I can possibly muster in my heart, thank Him profusely for everything He gives me, and humbly admit to myself that I will never know why He feels to give so much to one so unworthy.
Some days I look to God and, with all the confusion of a mortal being, I exclaim with a broken heart all the frustration, pain, and pleading in my soul, begging Him to stop pushing me so hard in so many different ways.

Some days I am bathed in light.

Some days I am lost in darkness.

I am human.  I am weak.  I find peace and understanding with life, and then I lose it.  My life will ever begin again.  I will always learn something new, then forget the complete value of the lesson learned, and learn the same lesson in a new way on a different day.  

Today I am grateful for that; I am grateful, and frustrated, with my begin again's.    

Over, and over, and over, again.