Happiness and Discouragement

Life is fleeting. Lately, the most blessed, heavenly moments of mine have been so unexpected, I've had metaphorical goose eggs on my head, throbbing where the happiness hit me. I'm afraid to admit that I've been caught up in the mundane duties of being a human being. Every night around five o'clock, you can find me in the cozy, unairconditioned quarters of my 1993 Toyota. In the 90 degree weather, I sit in a traffic jam and fan myself with whatever may be in my passenger seat at the time: a twix wrapper, junk mail, a size 4 diaper. And I find myself thinking, there has got to be another route. Today, an especially congested one on the I-15 route, I got to thinking about my life. All the things I need to be taught, need to teach, to pour out or be poured into, and I began to stress. I began to think, there has got to be another route.There are forks in roads, traffic lights, traffic jams, all funneling us into a certain place. Be it happiness, boredom, depression. Whatever the case, like a traffic jam, we feel like we have no control over the situation. Our precious lives being the situation that grows more complicated each fleeting moment. (There's that word again). But the thing is, we do have control. Taking control of our minds, our emotions, essentially our souls, is the foundation to pure bliss. So, when the next exit approached, I changed lanes and veered off the freeway. I found myself roaming through neighborhoods, approaching a stop sign or dead end and turning right or left, whichever I thought would get me home. Nothing looked familiar, no landmarks beckoned me their way, just rambler after rambler, green grass, yellow grass, crooked mailboxes. I started doubting- You should have stayed on the path you KNEW! And then- there it was. A tree, rather, half a tree that was so vividly familiar to me. The top had been cut down to avoid power lines, the reaching branches strong, new leaves sprouting from the sawed  limbs. I turned left, and there was a house, also so vividly familiar. When I was in the fifth grade, my best friend lived right here. Right in this front yard, with the red mailbox and the strawberries growing rapidly against the steps, I learned how to jump rope. I pulled over, mesmerized. I thought about how good God was, always guiding me. I kicked myself for being doubtful- of course I'd make it home. I've lived in Utah my entire life, something would become familiar.
The point I'm trying to get across here is that life becomes alarmingly unfamiliar; we become frightened and we doubt. Especially when we decide we're sick and darn tired of the way things are going and choose something new, something foreign. But always, a familiarity will form, and blossom amongst the thicket.
These moments in life, these fleeting moments, are my oxygen.

 

 

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Discouragement is my middle name these last weeks.. I work hard, come home exhausted, and small comments set me off. I'm like a ticking bomb, agitated, sensitive, emotional. Kade brings me back to my center, of course, but when even my keen sense to his wants and needs is judged, I become a big fat wreck. I'm trying, hard. I really am. But those fleeting moments of happiness are just that: fleeting. Being Kades mom is the one thing I'm confident about; knowing the ins and outs of his intricate personality. A jab at that confidence and I'm left feeling empty- what else do I have but motherhood? Sometimes I wish there were instructions: How not to piss your family off or make them feel burdened by your decision to be a young mother. But there isn't. So instead, we pray. Pray that they'll be understanding, a little more patient. Pray that the mistakes I'm making aren't huge, life impacting ones. Pray that relationships won't be strained by the lessons (whatever they are) that I apparently still have to learn. But that's just it: I'm still learning. One step at a time, baby.