I’ve been staring at this blinking cursor for 27 minutes and still don’t have the words.
There are these things that happen. These moments where all you hear is breath – and all you feel is this odd sensation that your feet aren’t on the floor. You’re falling, but standing up. You’d grab on to something if you had the ability to move, but you can’t because you just have no idea what to do with what you know now.
And, after the fear subsides, the anger sets in. You want to lash out at whatever caused broken families because broken families caused broken kids and broken kids break other kids and NOW WHAT? And after you’re done being angry you get sad because no one makes bubbles to put kids in and keep them untarnished and unaffected and JUST KIDS and there is no “undo” button and NOW WHAT?
Now what is the guilt that you aren’t parent enough to parent in this day and age and worry that you won’t ever be. That your super powers are not powerful enough to overcome brokenness and you just want your kids to arrive at the end of the journey unbroken and is that too much to ask these days? Really?
There have been sacrifices and time and wounds and choices and tears and you just want to know that it will matter and that, one day, you will see how worth it it really was.
But that day is not today and you don’t know when it will be, and so you just do what you can do, and double down on what you should do, and pray that your cans and shoulds are enough.
‘Cause that’s all you’ve got. That and another day.