Looking Through

I've spent a couple hours tonight looking through blogs I'd had bookmarked and some of my favorites. It's quite alarming to me that almost all of them had something to do with motherhood. I think I sometimes sabotage myself when I read them, especially several of them in one sitting. I find joy and wisdom in their words, but I leave their sites with pain in my heart. The longing I feel for a child just never goes away. I sound like Sad Sally writing about this all the time, but it's my way of coping; my way of not spontaneously screaming out my frustrations.

This afternoon was lovely. The gentle breeze was blowing and I decided to go outside and knit for a while. I carried my laptop out there to listen to a couple podcasts too. It was just a peaceful time rocking back and forth on my hammock swing. I hadn't been sitting there long when a little boy came running over to me. He wanted to share his "fruits" with me (they were actually a plastic wheelbarrow full of toys). This little boy just wanted some attention. I stopped my knitting and took the "fruit" he offered. A big smile came over his face as he realized that I'd take time for him. He soon skipped on his merry way, but returned shortly after that. He ended up sitting with me on the swing and swinging for a bit. After he left all I could think about was my childhood. I was always the person that the little kids flocked around. I'd go on great adventures with them and we'd play make believe for hours. I found such great joy in the company of those children. I always dreamed that I'd be surrounded by my own children one day. I planned on taking them on adventures too. We'd run around and play in mud puddles. And maybe if we were lucky we'd find some tadpoles in one of those puddles. I dreamed of taking them on hikes to see waterfalls and then jumping in the cool water in the summer time. And of course, I dreamed of teaching my children how to make things with their hands. I looked forward to seeing what their little minds could imagine up.

But that is not my reality. My reality is quiet. I can't stand the quiet. The quiet taunts me and tempts me to come here: at my desk, reading about the life I'd rather have.

Don't get me wrong. I won't abandon these friendships and connections I've made online. I do genuinely care about you all and want to be involved in your lives (as much as possible via our online relationships). But there are times when I have to pull myself back from such things. I don't do this because I'm jealous or mad. It is simply the only way I can cope.

I'm supposed to be on this journey to finding contentment. I find it periodically, but at other times it seems very illusive. Constantly going through highs and lows gets tiresome quickly and isn't the ultimate goal I seek. For now, I'm still learning and adjusting. There are times when I hit hard against my own stubborness. Yet more times when I'm faced with an overwhelming sense of fear and abandonment. I wonder when I'll ever find that sound balance.

The only one thing I'm sure of is that God is right here with me every step of the way. He won't leave me and He never has. My feet get weary often in this life, but I know that He's willing and able to carry me when I can't continue. I feel like I've spent more time in His arms than I have on my own two feet. I'm sure He doesn't mind, but I desire to not feel so weak and helpless sometimes. The Lord is my strength; my only strength. In Him I will wait.