There are days when I wake up with my jaws clenched, my neck and shoulders tightly wound up and my heart pounding. Getting through the day is like walking on the edge of a cliff. I teeter, slip and catch myself before I fall down the gut-wrenchingly immeasurable great unknown.
Everything rattles my nerves on such days – the scarves I’ve asked the children to put away but keep popping up on the bannister, the chair, the floor… anywhere but where they are supposed to be; the dust that won’t stay gone no matter how much I dust and clean, testimony of my failure as a home maker; the people who ask questions I don’t want to answer, who make pronouncements on my life I don’t wish to hear and who make demands on my life I don’t care to entertain…
I feel overwhelmed and boxed in. I cannot find the solace I need. I feel like I cannot take it anymore. Not one minute, not one second more. I have to fight down the scream and rant that threaten to erupt and sometimes I fail.
I pray and pray and the manic edge starts to mellow.
Then, a kind friend calls me over. We talk and drink much comforting tea. Her children shower mine with attention and sweet, hand-made gifts. The afternoon is punctuated with easy companionship, smiles and laughter.
I return home and prepare dinner. The children fuss – eager to help – and compliment my cooking even before it is served. They eat with gusto and declare that I am a good… no, THE BEST cook ever. We pray and give thanks for all we have been given. We talk, read and snuggle up in bed.
My girls cannot stop talking about their day and their mighty plans for the next. They tell me they love me.
I close my eyes and I know I am fine. I am more than fine… I am well and truly blessed.
