It feels like a roller coaster right now for everyone. Every day is another announcement, another fear, another new normal to navigate. Each moment where we think we have something figured out, where we think we can breathe, is interrupted by a precipitous fall toward the unknown.
This fragile balance she has created, this magic teeter-totter of support and outlet, of mental work and physical strength begins to wobble and finds herself walking a tightrope no longer securely anchored.
I don’t know what best describes this space I’m currently occupying. It’s easier to laugh, easier to see beauty, easier to breathe. But I still live in that weary space, waiting for the shoe to drop, expecting the gray to roll back in, the walls to begin to smolder and burn.
Her voice made so much sense. Everything she told me sounded true. And no one else was saying anything to me to contradict her. And so I listened as she told me that I was unworthy, unlovable, broken, wrong.
Remind me that this is a celebration, a milestone of achievement and happiness and success, and not a moment to be mourned or feared. Give her the grace to tolerate my moments of tears, and give me the strength to let those moments be few.
But let us also recognize, that for some women of faith, there is an additional area where they may feel as though they have been reduced to something smaller, something less than, something unimportant. That the very body of believers that they meet with, has diminished their gifts, talents, treasures. And then - let us recognize and proclaim that this is not Jesus.
I will raise a hallelujah even in the darkness. Even when the chaos descends. Even if my peace gives way to my anxiety. I will raise a hallelujah. He is with me. He's got this. I will keep singing. Hallelujah.
I know these things, and these things tell me that I’m definitely screwing this up. I’m definitely not Good Enough. And I’ve not been Good Enough for quite a few years. My oldest is 17, and as I think about launching her into adulthood I feel the questions bubble back up and catch in my throat again and again. “Am I doing this right? Am I screwing this up? Is this Good Enough? Am I Good Enough?”
I’m making a concerted effort to give myself credit. I did this. I fought through this. I lived through this. And you did too.