The frantic mind never stops racing. When it pauses in defeat it reloads and picks up right where it left off. Several years ago I discovered that there is no perfect me, but my thoughts keep on concocting ways to fix my brokenness. When I realize that there is no quick fix I feel my soul collapse inside my body. When I stay within myself as the center of my universe, time stops, but I continue to sink deeper into my “me”. Is this hell? All me, all the time?
My way of escape is to acknowledge that I do not exist in isolation. I ask for forgiveness realizing that I am a part of a larger narrative a true reality outside of my “me”. A reality that is moving and breathing. The “now” that is desiring and needs my full presence. The “now” includes things that I dread doing or am fearful of, the people who I am in relationship with and places that I need to be. I am still praying that I will be brave and that I can except my brokenness. I am praying I can surrender to humility so that my mind can retire from the marathon.
Inspiration streams through various mediums. I am discovering that each day, with its uniqueness and commonness, sprouts inspiration. Each day offers us the opportunity to arrest the transient “whim” to move into creative flow. It is an invitation from God, emerging from our rigid routines and our procrastinations, to emancipate us from escapism and allow us to enter the space of faith-based conception in real-time. It is there that we can experience interplay between hope and fruition. When we pause and allow ourselves to be present there is surge that pulls us into deeper depths of love and purpose causing us to divorce fear, abandon our efforts to secure personal happiness and achievement to engage life with an intentionality that changes the world.
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.