It’s 5 Minute Friday over at Gypsy Mama. It’s both the hardest and the easiest post to write each week. After all, five minute increments is what I write in most of the time, so I can do that. But this letting go and waiting to see what comes out? Sometimes scary. Like today.
What am I afraid of in the dark, in the quiet, when my husband breathes deep beside me and my body tenses when I hear the baby cough and wait for the inevitable crying that follows and then I lay down with him nestled close to me and smooth his wild curls and breathe deep his sweet baby scent and the dark is all around, so big, so full, so much more than I can handle?
I’m afraid someday he’ll read this blog and never understand how much I love him now but how hard it was for me to get there past my own selfishness and pride.
I’m afraid my girls will slam doors and throw shoes and hate me when they are teenagers and I will crumble and cave and not have the strength to love them through and discipline their hearts that won’t be ready or capable of being as grown up at 16 as they will want to believe they are.
I’m afraid that because I’m come to understand that grace means I don’t get what I deserve, there is more hardship ahead, more worry, more fear, more obstacles that I won’t know I’m strong enough to face until they are knocking down my door.
I’m afraid I’m not devoted enough. I’m afraid to let go and surrender to what I know would be a fuller life, but a life that is inevitably more complicated because my decisions won’t be liked by everybody.
I’m afraid I’ll raise my kids in a world that is a lukewarm reflection of what should be bright-hot as a coal burning like the fiery furnace Christianity and I will become complacent because I so hate to rock the boat.
Except Jesus is walking on the water and He never needed that boat anyway.