Roles

I'm a Mom. That's who I am and what I do. First, foremost, and without waiver. That's how I was designed. It's pretty simple - it's just me. All that to say, I find great joy in fulfilling that role. But this role brings great heartache as well. When I see one of my children hurt....I can't stand it. I become defensive, sort of like a lioness pacing around her cubs to protect them. Katie doesn't like it when I do this, neither does Bobby. But it's what I do. I can't seem to stop either. The response is so automatic and built-in it would be like trying to seperate day and night from one another. There is a point of both where they meet and both have accepted the other as inevitable. I was holding my daughter yesterday and she was sobbing. Not crying, sobbing. She couldn't breathe, all she could do was sob. The tears rolled down her cheeks from a never ending river of sadness. I couldn't pace, I couldn't defend, I couldn't stop the feelings. My own overwhelming need to cry flooded from my now fragile emotions. But I knew she needed me to be strong so I just couldn't cry. Not now, I'd save that for later. The sorrow we felt was present as we reasoned the circumstances. It was going to be okay, we'd get through it. But the feeling of needing to tear down the world on her behalf has not subsided. How I wsih I could protect my children from everything painful...for that matter, I don't want pain in my life either. And yet, it's there. Lurking around the corner to find us when we least expect it. Pain has an ugly face. How can I use the ugliness for beauty in my life? How can I turn the hurt into joy and lessons learned? I don't know these answers, but I have a feeling that is when meaning, and not being afraid of pain, will become a integral part of my life.