I have a theory...

It's been almost 2 years since I've written in here. Babies, work, time - all flying by. I don't think I can or want to cover all the time between, although it's been filled with both joy and changes. But what I most want to do is start writing something I might be able to leave behind. Legacy is probably too strong a word, but I want to make sure I've left something my girls can read if it turns out to be my time soon. Something that tells them about all I really am, and more importantly all I believe. I know Glen would tell them all about me as a Mom and a woman, and friends and family would be there too. But what I most worry about in the telling is who will teach them about God? I admit it, there are not many to whom I feel able to talk about God myself. Mom sometimes, Christine sometimes, Bethany sometimes. But none of them completely. And none of them I think share my faith in quite the same way (though definitely Bethany acts on hers much more!) Glen for sure doesn't really understand me on this one, and there has always been a shyness in me to really open up because I sense that he doesn't want me to. He's not ready to hear it yet, or maybe it's fear on my part that I'll be labeled in there along with the "Jesus freaks" he's so afraid of. Him and his Dad. Whatever, I've never felt able to talk to him, and so how could he ever pass it on to the girls?

So, a pledge to myself to start writing the words floating through my head. And maybe even to write it so I can publish it. Not publicly, but at least through one of those individual press companies like I did my poetry, so there is a concrete format to keep.

What to call it? Something like "How to break". Because at the core of my beliefs is this idea that sometimes you just have to break to find God. We go on, day by day, thinking we can do it all. We build out little systems, our support structures, our coping mechanisms, so that we can do it all. So that we can be superwoman. But the truth is we can't, not by ourselves. And so God lets us go along and watches us. He keeps letting it get a little bit harder, the pile get a little bit bigger. And the more we forget to ask him for help, the higher it gets, until we get to that point where we just have to break. And then the beautiful part starts, because once we break, once we get down on our knees and ask for help - we get it. No more faking it, no more being strong enough unto ourselves. He wraps us in his arms and we are home and we are filled with him. And it's finally enough. That doesn't mean it gets easier necessarily, especially if we've built our mess really well. But with Him, we can do anything. We just have to get there, and to get there, we have to break.