A while ago,
my friend Emily wrote about how,
as her kids have grown,
she's decided that sharing some of their lives
was no longer a good thing.
They were stories that weren't hers to tell.
As I'm writing this post,
I need you to know that I will be vague,
that I won't name names, places or circumstances.
I've debated long and hard about even writing this.
As writing is and has been
a good way for me to express my feelings,
think through things
I've decided that it could be attempted.
There are few joys that equal the joys that being a parent brings.
Watching your little humans develop and grow
is something that is both incredibly scary and amazing.
There are the big moments of joys and accomplishments,
but mostly they are the little everyday things
that reminds you that this is both
a sacred responsibility
an incredible honor.
because parenting is such a heart and soul involving responsibility,
there are few things that will cause deeper,
more soul wrenching pain
than the one that can be inflicted
by one of those little humans.
Be it voluntary or not.
It is the state of things.
I often feel this is our Father in Heaven's way
to help us understand a tiny smudge
of what He feels towards us.
I can't say I expected sleepless nights to make a come back.
I did know I would continue to find myself pleading with God,
but maybe I didn't expect that it would be this desperately.
I didn't expect that I would have a hard time smiling to strangers and friends.
I didn't expect that the worry would overcome me.
I didn't expect shedding this many tears.
I didn't expect that through my own pain and agony,
I would find it impossible to be mad.
I didn't expect that through some of the most heart wrenching moments,
all I would think of was my child
and his pain.
I didn't expect I would be the middle man.
I didn't expect that I would question every thing I ever did as a mother.
I know we all do our best.
I know I do my best.
I've long understood that all of us just try to take the good from our childhoods
and try to make the bad something we don't repeat.
We try to be better than our parents were.
We pray and hope our children will be better than we are.
as I'm reflecting on the events that have been taking place,
I feel broken and at a loss.
But I'm also hopeful.
Because I have knees.
Because I can talk to Him.
Because I can go to His house and be comforted.
Because my child is also His child.
Because He loves us all the same.
Because no matter what,
I will love him.