The sun was a scorcher today on the soccer side-lines, beating through my cap. I pulled out my umbrella again this weekend but not for the relentless rain like yesterday. Today I needed shade. What a weather pendulum!
Wynter’s soccer finished for the season with a tie and a loss. She can pack up the cleats and socks, and put them on the top shelf in the closet til next fall. The other kids have one more weekend to play the game and then declare the winners of their league.
Soccer broke me this year. It beat me down with expectations and driving and emotion. After one stormy morning with coffee in hand and behind the wheel on my way to Marshall field, I imagined packing my bags and quitting. Quitting from the Motherhood. Yes, the Motherhood! Heading off to the southern land to drink margaritas and watch the fat gain momentum on my belly while lying on the sandy beach. And not even caring. Pure slothfulness.
There is a friend of mine who will not join me in the complain chorus. We’ll chat at the pizza windup and I’ll begin the sad whine about living in my car with stinky cleats and she’ll just nod and then talk about how good this pizza is when we both know its cold and horrible. She has three kids and 2 exchange students in hockey and soccer. She’s busy. But she loves it, or does she?
Maybe she’s just accepted it as part of life?
I know there are women who would love to have the opportunity to be with their children instead of lying in the hospital bed taking chemo medication; to drive them around and be nutso when they spill their ice cream on the back seat. They’ll take that time and regard it precious. It will be savoured and cherished because they never know what else is in their deck of cards.
Only God knows.
It was a broken down me with complete spent exhaustion that ran into her on a sunday. She who is fighting the cancer. Why is it that sometimes you learn things at church that often have nothing to do with the service? Later I lay on my soft bed for a much needed nap but I couldn’t sleep. I have to decide. To choose how I view my days with teenagers. To think carefully about what I had been given. Closing my eyes I take a deep breath.
I realize I have not taken care of the giver, the driver, the cheerleader. Me. My bedtimes are erratic and late. Coffee is my main source of fuel and exercising has only been walking Frankie. Not enough to challenge my heart rate at all. My survival methods were not working.
I got up and made dinner and we all sat down at the table to eat. I said grace. The six of us, eyes closed and hearts uncertain.
Thank you God for this food, Bless it to our bodies for use. And thank you for giving us life and breath today. Amen.
The kids knew it and I felt it. Life all by itself without anything else, clothes, homes, cars, family is worth being thankful for. My breath is enough to give thanks for.
When our life is broken down to it’s very core it’s all about surrender and thankfulness.
God must have seen that I was slipping. I was at the end of my rope with this stage of life and the demands and the not knowing if I can be this all knowing mom. I’ll never be perfect. I must have taken my off glasses the last 2 months because life just a whole lot clearer once I put them back on.
Ah, the power of my lenses. Guess its off to bootcamp after all.