did you see this post secret? I think I probably agree...
weary in a way I am not sure I can come out of on my own. so ready to be with you this weekend. being the change I want to see is just so damn hard sometimes. especially when people hurt little kids and the world doesn't always feel safe.
in other news, cora called grandpa bob on her pretend phone today. she said he hasn't been feeling well, but he's okay. love marches on to the strangest drummers. thankful for that. and for you.
how can I love my kids enough? how can I teach them what peace looks like? how can I explain that I am sad because love isn't big enough to set the world right all the time? and then explain that I am probably wrong about that, too, becaue Love (with a capital L) is certainly big enough, given enough time and space, and I probably don't even know what "right" really looks like. jamin's school sent beautiful emails, full of all the gentleness and peace that we love about the staff there, reminders that our children can guide us, reminders that love casts out fear and we cannot be lead by fear if we are to raise peacemakers in a fallen world. so I will keep on loving bigger, looking to the helpers just like Mr. Rogers says, because the blurriness of tears makes it too hard to see anything else. I am so glad you are my mom. I'm so glad you set this mothering standard so high. I am so glad you love big enough to let it spill on my kids too because sometimes I feel too empty to do this job right. but I am not called to do it by myself.
I hope I will be out of tears by the time I see you this weekend, but that probably won't be the case. it is what I do, this crying thing. and you have taught me to love that about myself, to hold myself in the gentle way you would hold me. and because of that I can tell jamin and cora that I am not scared of their tears either. and if I am not crying, I know we will laugh hard enough together to make the tears come again. and I love that, too.
pray for me and I'll pray for you too. that's just what we do.
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