postcards from the edge of busy
you’ve been there too, right? busy.
in fact you probably live there. like i do. that place where there is goodness. and wonderfulness. sunshine. clouds. bad days. and glorious days.
that place where husbands have to work. and while this puts food on the table and everyone gets new shoes. it doesn’t allow for a lot of free mama time.
life stretched so thin you can almost see through it.
children growing up and doing things like passing their driver’s education and smoking marijuana for the first time.
he doesn’t lie to you and you wonder if that is a good thing?
you just want to read stories and work on failed science experiments. a battery operated morse code.
and discuss van gough. even though it is a little weird that he cut his ear off.
so you pull them closer.
worried and waiting for the ugliness of the world to penetrate.
clinging. desperately to each pearly bead.
because really, that’s all this mama can do.
from the edge of busy.
because i do care. and i am there.
and so is HE.
and at the end of a long day. that’s really all that matters.
i am helpless.
He is omnipotent.
why is it so hard to get that through my thick head?
i wanted so much to talk about food. and how i used thyme from my garden for dinner. sangria. my first yellow iris and the white ones that are blooming next. but my heart is heavy tonite. heavy with the burden of raising a teen in these hellish times.
the metamorphosis from boyhood to manhood can be a beautiful thing.
but right now i feel like i am experiencing my very own pieta.
the lifeless soul of my son lies in my hands.
and all i can hear is the ticking of the clock as i wait for time and grace to heal things that only time and grace can heal.
he is not a bad boy by any means. he is just trying to find his own way. separate from me and his father.
i just wish his head was a little softer than mine. so that the important stuff could sink in. making my life a lot more bloggable……..