When words won't come....

Wow this has been a rough couple of months. Since the second week in October I have been exhausted and nauseous. It is all for a wonderful blessing of course as Jeremy and I have decided to add to our little family. We realize we are not financially, mentally or spaciously, ready for another child, but really how many people are. I’m betting very few. Sometimes I find myself thinking “what have I gotten into?” and other times I just can’t wait to meet our new little addition. Most feelings are of the latter. I am finally feeling better and want to get back to eating healthy, exercising and writing.

I miss writing. It’s like a very good friend I never call or visit any longer. Since I can remember I would write, I loved it! Every mood, change in weather, visitor….really anything prompted me to write. Ideas flowed so freely I couldn’t get them on paper fast enough. Eventually friends, dates and school work got in the way, soon followed by the responsibilities of a job, husband, house and kids. I rarely make time for my good friend anymore. It comforted me in periods of loneliness, sadness, times of being misunderstood or feeling disconnected. Even in my happiness. Now years past, the ideas don’t produce as easily. I have to work much harder for them now. Maybe I misused my dear friend or took for granted the ease at which my words came forth. How I wish I could tap into mind that was so full of ideas.

Weakness

I don’t know why I am so vulnerable.  I wish for once in my life I could be one of those women that could handle the hits and roll with the punches.   Even on my best days I am feel weak.  I feel inadequate.  I know being a mother can make you feel this way, I know that every mother grieves the loss of her confidence when she becomes the one to mold and shape a life.  But feeling this way day after day with every decision I make is taxing. I feel as though every move I make is wrong.  When I foolishly make a confident step, very much like walking in the dark, I quickly realize there is no step there and I am left with that sickening lunge forward.  And at once I realize my mistake and I am scared to step again.  The dark is frightening and I soon find myself standing still, petrified.  If you haven’t guessed, I am in one of “dark deep woods” moods.  I will never venture in of course, but the wood will forever remain lovely.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.


He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.


The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.


In sixth grade we had to recite this poem by Robert Frost, it is one I have never forgotten. I remember our teacher asking us what we thought it meant. Some of my classmates thought of Santa Claus, some of just a man enjoying the snowy evening. But not me. To me this poem implies darkness, a man losing himself. He wants to no longer exist. The woods are nothingness. They are lovely and inviting. They offer deliverance from torment. But he knows he has promises, responsibilities, and an entire life to live.

I sometimes find myself lingering on the edge of these deep dark woods knowing that the sadness I sometimes feel would vanish upon entering the wood. But I too have promises, I too have many miles. I do not wish to leave behind a family that makes these woods so much less inviting. But the reason for wanting to stop by these woods, why these feelings I feel come and go at will, still remains a mystery to me.

My Blessings.

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.

Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.

It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.

We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant,

gorgeous, talented, fabulous?

Actually, who are you not to be?

You are a child of God.

a return to love - Marianne Williamson



This is my favorite excerpt! I believe that we all have it in us to become wonderful miraculous creations of God. After all we are made in His image and He spoke all things into existence. We do have some of God in us and His power, the ability to be extraordinary servants. Not only do I believe that we are afraid of this brilliance, we also believe we are not worthy. Being God’s child makes us worthy of success for Him. It makes us worthy of being that powerful talented servant.

I have been writing since childhood and have only recently discovered that this talent is not mine, it is the talent that God has given me for His glory. I only hope that I am able to prosper as God has planned for me.

As of now I am a 31 year old mother of two. Emily who is 10 and Chloe who is 4. Motherhood has been one of the greatest adventures of my life. I would have never believed I could love someone so much that it hurts, so much that it brings tears to my eyes. I had Emily when I was only 20 and she will never realize the lessons she has taught me. Lessons about love, patience, fear, heartache, growing up and joy so much joy. Chloe was a planned decision after my husband and I lost a child. Chloe has taught me about healing and faith. The other great adventure is being a wife. I have been married for 11 years this September. And I have to admit we have evolved with each other; making each other better people, celebrating each other’s accomplishments, uplifting each other after a failure. Recently I have realized that I not only love him, I’m not only in love with him, but I love him unconditionally. He is a man of great honesty, humbleness, faithfulness. I can’t believe how blessed I am. When I slowdown in life and take a moment to reflect on God’s gifts to me, I sincerely feel God’s love. He must indeed love me.