Wednesday, April 09, 2014

I'm still here


I'm still here.
When I thought of what else to write, it just wasn't coming to me.
Since I last wrote, priorities have changed, hindsight is 20/20 and I am made to live in the present (which I wanted and now lament...isn't that the way?)
I know, when I check in with all of my old crap, that I haven't forgiven some past wrongs that I should, but am too stubborn to do. I secretly believe that I am too over-sure of myself and am worried that everyone else knows it and *gasp* discusses it.
I've begun mothering tweens. That comes with its own melody: something like violins rising to a crescendo...and cue the percussionist who drops the cymbals, nervous twittering as the conductor taps the podium and begins again. I love my children dearly and laugh and hug and wonder at them constantly, but life is not the cozy quilts and bird song it use to be. I do not say I miss that. I love their independent minds and their life-dreams that seem almost to have nothing to do with me, except that I can support them until they can support themselves in it...and then I'll always be their smile and encouraging word.

I'm still here.
I have chickens and a rooster and cows and pigs and cats and a dog, still.
They have become more about life in general than a "wow-I-can't-believe-I-get-to-finally-have-animals" kind of thing. I do not say I've lost my wonder. As a first grade teacher, I cultivate wonder...or should. As a mom, I get tired and cannot participate except to lay in bed for a few minutes with each of my children before they go to sleep at night and talk about who said what and why in school. I encourage and talk about the realities with them. I tell them that beauty is something that has to be cultivated on the inside. That ugliness is something that grows. I hope that they don't just believe what I say, but that they look for the truth of it in their own large lives that they are leading.

I'm still here.
Wanting to be important, to lead the way, to be relevant.
I don't long for anything, which is really something to say. I use to long and long for things...and long...and looooong for things. My daughter is at the age where she has begun to dream big and realizes that it is possible to actually achieve these big things if one is disciplined enough to take every step to get there, and so she asks many questions about what people dream about doing. She recently asked me, "What do you want most?" I had to think and think. What do I want most? My wants are pretty small these days, and I do not seem to really "need" for anything. I've always really been that way.
My urgent questions use to be  the big ones, "Why are we here and what should I do about it?" That led to questions like, "Which outline for living should I follow? What do most people agree is the best way to do things? How can one choose one way of living for an entire lifetime? Do people's needs for spiritual sustenance change as they change?" The answer for all of it is simply "yes". Yes, I think there is a reason we are here, because the person I have always been as no other choice but to make my life mean something. Yes, I should know what I stand for and what I will not stand for. Yes, I can always be me and always be changing. So, when she asks me, "What do you want most?" I told her, "For our lives to mean something, and in even a small way, to contribute to the progress of humanity in the end, Emma. I want for YOU to make your life mean something. I want for Ethan's life to mean something. I want to be a part of that "meaning something". I choose to be a part of life. Whatever else happens to me is a bonus, like extra credit."
i.e. Travel to Europe: extra credit


I'm not sure what that means about me now. Is it that I'm nearing 40 that makes me feel as if I'm finally settling into my own skin? Is it that I've found my place in the world and have nestled into this time of life like I've been waiting for it forever? Surprisingly, knowing that the answer to both of these questions is likely, yes, I don't feel any sort of "bliss" or "arrival", on the contrary; I notice the beat of everything. I'm keenly aware of time passing, and have an urgency to be RELEVANT.
I'm still here.

1 comment:

sarah said...

I was thinking about you just this week and wishing you still wrote here! So lovely to see this post from you. (((Hugs)))