It’s hard, this thing called life. You think you have it running on auto-pilot for awhile, and it throws you a curve ball. You solve one thing, and four more pop out their buds, showing you they’ve quietly been taking root for weeks. The webs are tangled, the challenges deep. It hurts, this relating and parenting and growing. Anything worth doing hurts somehow though, doesn’t it?
Physical pain lets me know my legs are retraining themselves to run without padded running shoes. Sometimes those twinges tell me when to take a break, too. Pain signals growth, and warns of thresholds. It’s usually required to make big changes.
Heavy hearts come from fears, unexpressed feelings, truths that haven’t found outlets yet. Things we hold onto, causing us pain. We’re weighed down by pregnant issues that need to be nurtured and moved on to fruition, so we can fly again.
What we do with what we have, this matters most. Do we share it, plant it, hoard it, become vulnerable with it? Do we take enough chances? Do we protect, challenge, support, and joy our kids? (Shouldn’t joy be a verb?) Do we equip them well for their own journeys, and give them the tools they need most? (And still pray fiercely for their protection.)
We are strong, thank God we are strong. We dig deep, and then a little deeper. We rely, trust, test our faith, and do our best. We are directors of one life, and guardian of others. May we joy in our journey, no matter the path. It is our path, and ours alone. Mama never said it would be easy.