I have always been fascinated by the thrill seekers. The skydivers and extreme sport athletes, the ones who belong to the adventurous tribe, that scour the mundane of its safety and evoke in the rest of us the trepidation we have about the unknown. I have always thought that if I could jump out of a plane or jump from a cliff into the ocean I would be cured of all my fears and live everyday triumphantly. Well, I never built up the courage to jump. In fact, I didn’t jump at all, into anything. Instead, my thrills were obtained from how many times I could say “no” to the adventures that emerged from out of my mundane. It took a lot of work to avoid participating in activities that I wanted to do as a kid, it took much effort to quit perusing my interests and I had to use all sorts of techniques to maneuver out of the hands of purpose. It was exhausting.
Swimming against the current of possibility and the rhythms of life hinders us from riding waves of grace.
Fast forward many years and here I am, trying to breathe and walk in my own shoes. I’m taking the risk to love and forgive myself, to practice humility and freely give as it has been given to me. One way I am practicing this is by allowing myself to experience joy in the nuances of motherhood.