turn the page

Tuesday, October 30, 2012

There comes a time when, no matter where you have come from, no matter what you have been through, you must simply learn to turn the page. I spend so much of my days wishing I could rewrite the past. I need to remember that I have the power to create the kind of life, the kind of home I would like to have. The squabbling of children, the selfishness displayed cannot alter my vision. As hard as it sometimes seems, it is, and always will be, up to me to decide, every minute of every day, what kind of home I will create. This work is never done.

Not only must I not be weary in well doing, but I seek to find that joy that periodically evades me. It is there somewhere, even in the midst of disaster, if my outlook is tuned into my vision, if I maintain focus.

I have been abundantly blessed with powerful, gentle, strong, soft, righteous women in my life. I look to their goodness and examples. I cling to their coat tails. Through my association with them I am strengthened.

But there are moments of weakness, fatigue and self-doubt.

She is everywhere in many forms. She is up and baking muffins before the first of her wee ones tumble downstairs in warm, wrinkled jammies. She is eternally optimistic in life. She is a spiritual giant. She is accomplished. She is dedicated. She is educated. She runs marathons. She joyfully makes dinner for her family, everyday. Her hair is always perfect. Her clothes are always cute. Her children always behave. She never tires. She never angers. She is all. And I, I in comparison, am so weak.

And that one word - it is the seed of destruction. The door is left open only a crack and in it comes, an unwelcome guest. And, yet, I welcome him in, open arms. I don't see him for what he is, for he disguises himself as friend. But he spills his poison like black ink on clean parchment, until I no longer see what is good and right in me.

I cry as I watch. My children gathered round me, some on my lap, some at my sides and even my feet. When wondering faces question wet eyes I tell them of the good message in the movie just watched, ask them if they heard it. Darren smiles and says, "You find the good message because you look for the good message." I? I look for the good message? Yes....... I do. Why, then, do I forget to look for the good message inside, my good message?

My tummy is rounded from 5 babies. My hair rarely is let loose from its daily binding. I haven't exercised in weeks. My oven sits empty and cold. Yet I have a good message. There is so much I do. There is so much I am. There is not time for wasted days in the company of comparison. He is no friend. And she, she does not exist.

My eyes open to the joy that is there, awaiting my discovery. I focus on my strengths, the things I do have, the person I am, not what I lack.

So when my life does not look the way I envision, and I fall short of spectacular, I will not despair, nor entertain comparison. I will seek the good message - the vision is up to me. And then I find myself rising to the occasion of possibility and potential. But not hers...mine.

It is time to turn the page. 

It is dark. The house lay sleeping, safe roof over sweet cheeks and soft hands. I wake before sunrise and tiptoe down stairs, pull out the cookbook and begin to compile ingredients. My smallest early birds sense my wakefulness first and pad on down, rubbing sleep from wide eyes, under dream tangled locks. We mix batter and fill tins. My oven is warm, my heart even more so. This morning I bake muffins for those I love, not because I need to be like her. I bake muffins because I can. I become the mom I want to be. 

I hope that I will always be in the becoming.

{link below: Beautiful and inspiring - for all mother-hearts} 

10 Point Manifesto for Joyful Parenting