I have written so much in my heart but have not put it to type lately. It is my least favorite time of the year. The struggle with not letting depression win as we are cooped up in these mountains, and always sick for the month of February. My life in this very moment is resembling the end of winter; hopeful sun and then back stepping winter. I wish I could just for a moment see the clear view of a part of what is ahead. It will be none of us, because we are at our end and have nothing left of control to make it all work. It will be all up to God. Our plans are failing. I guess that means that God's purposes will prevail now, right? I can't wait. I am so done with the waiting and am sure the ones in my close circle are tired of hearing about it. It truly is a struggle.
So, for now, I am trying to live in the now. Is there a place for looking ahead? It can't all be just living for what is here. Hopes and dreams are parts of working towards something, working forward. I will not stand still and have not been. As I have been struggling out of this all, I have been stripped of much- it is disorienting even. I feel sort of undone, like it is my second childhood and I am naive again, having to relearn all that I know.
Maybe that is the essence of being in my thirties. I am at the half way point and am ready to be put back together again. I am rebuilding my ideologies in light of all that I have been through up until this age, and with new thoughts and understanding. I wonder how many times this happens in one's life? Regardless, I am learning the balance of filling to pour out. It is a delicate balance for a mother. Grace is handed out moment to moment. Boundaries are loving all ways. Hope never disappoints. Scripture grounds me. It is the age of sifting through all that I know and reshaping what I want to pass down. This is really what it means to be clay. Anyways, cuddles are needed and bedtime is sacred. I hope to be in this creative and reflective space more often....
