Hope Rising
Insidiously my day had begun. Antsy. Angry. Off kilter, and I knew it. Irritated within the skin of me. Insta-internal trample was in full effect. The rattlings of hate towards self had begun, and I hadn't even climbed out of bed. You didn't exercise yesterday. You were supposed to. You have a design deadline that's one day behind. You have 7 invoices that were to be sent out yesterday. You didn't get them sent. Really nice. You forgot to pick up milk at that grocery. Damnit. That's just great, Meg. Real great. Can't you get it together? The electric bill. Freak. It was due yesterday. You didn't get it paid on time. Why didn't you? You set it out on the counter to pay it. I can't believe you can't get stuff done. You freakin' ate 7 Oreos at 10:30 last night. That's the PM. Really smart. Sure glad you ate that tuna and salad at lunch. It went a long way, huh? The cat litter stinks. When's the last time you cleaned that out? You think you could be a little more efficient in that department, Meg? I mean jeez. Did you even talk to Kenny much yesterday? Does he miss me? I miss him. My hair is nasty. I am 4 weeks past a cut and color. Why can't I try harder in the hair department? You're just lazy that's why. Warning: Destruction & danger zone ahead, family. She is about to get up. Popping off rounds on the battlefield of me, my mind works overtime to stuff and keep the war inside a secret. No, I don't tend to externally rage, but the shrapnel of me hurts. Others just as much myself. Snotty & shrewd, my scowls hit hard. My words are curt, and my soul is an outward nasty. Negative spews only followed by judgement & criticism. This was my day. Begun only to belittle. Bring down. Besieging opportunity and growth. A massacre of happy memories to be made, I was. And, they call me Mom. And, he lays down with me at night. Trapped and contorted and fully aware of the ramifications, I obsessively continued on with the torture. As if slicing sideways through the ones I loved could somehow make me feel more victorious.
The day was a blur of ugly. Every single breath I had to take was bitter. The knots of me were increasing with each hour. And, my anger multiplied with each mark of elapsed time. I was shreds on the inside and doing a pretty good job at slaughtering the rest around me. The anger raging on within, somehow found release in dragging down the ones close in proximity. What kind of sick person am I? It was late afternoon. Kenny had already been gone a multitude of hours from Camp Happy our home for Sunday afternoon football meetings. The boys came running in calling me outside to see something. They were ecstatic & elated & expressive, too. And, they so eagerly exclaimed, "We have a surprise for you! Come see!"
Annoyed & irritated they wouldn't just tell me what it was, I flatlined them with a "Boys, can't you see I'm busy working?" My boys lack not in persistence. I drudged down the stairs from my studio ill. They asked me to close my eyes and let them hold my hands to take me to our front porch. I protested and told them I needed to get back to work, and "let's just hustle on out there." Their prodding and begging got the best of me. Most grudgingly, I obliged. Eli was quick to say he would grab the camera as "Mom, we gotta get pictures of this."
Over the threshold, I stumbled and snapped as they didn't tell me to step. Bare feet on the front porch, they placed me. Then simultaneously shouted, "1-2-3 OPEN!" My eyes popped as I was ready to hemm-haww through this and get on back to my hate-in-motion. And, what found the other end of my evil stare was nothing short of breathtaking. Giddy with excitement, Eli fumbled clumsily taking off the camera lens's cap to capture what was before us.
Pungently, the colors bled into my state of sour. The proximity was almost suffocating. The bitterness in my crow's feet creases were filled with huge, soft tears as I wept with immediacy. Mouth gaping, I stammered from a stand to a sitting position there on the cold covered concrete of me. Rapidly, my mind began to release. No one spoke. There, flat bottomed and bare foot, I sat crying at the amazing before me. It was about a minute before I even realized tears were falling. Quickly, I went back into fight mode as if wiping away tears could revert me back to my lockdown state of hate. Because angry likes to sit a spell, doesn't it though? And, torture is what I deserved. It was when I reached up to erase the evidence of healing that trickled down my face, that I found 2 little hands still laced within mine. There they sat with me intertwined & still. At that moment, a wash of heavenly moved. Tears fell harder and faster. Little boys scooted closer and closer. And, we watched magnificent together right outside our front yard. My eyes kept fixed on the man holding secure this monstrosity moved by flames. My heart knew him. He was the one holding me all this time. "Are you ready, Meghan? Are you ready? I've got you. You're not going anywhere. I'm here."
Then, with a steady, strong push, this man let go. He just let go. And, I cried harder. Little boys laid their heads on my shoulders as we watched grace take flight. The sound of the camera snapping was rhythmic and wholesome. The little fingers rubbing my forearms were sacred.
He knew I was ready. To release. To let go. To watch on as my heart shifted into a shadowy place of Him. A place where warm met my face and the breeze was there to forgive. Soaring upward, my fears and faults went higher and higher. Flawless into the evening sky, I climbed to a better place of me.
Two little boys, uncontainable now, asked if I was okay. I offered up a heartfelt yes. Casey asked if they could go chase it. What a sweet boy to think he needed to ask before leaving me. My Eli lingered back only to hold my hand a little longer. Then, with a kiss on my cheek, he was off too. I watched on with eyes washed clean from the sweet exhaustion of tears. And, prayers poured out of my soul thanks to the heroes who helped rescue my heart that day: my balloon chasers.
Hope lifting. It happens. When you need it most, and when you least expect it. The potential of our greatest good lies within the handing over of hate and the holding onto Him. "Are you ready, Meghan? Are you ready? I've got you. You're not going anywhere. I'm here." Grace is powerful. And, it is free. Thank you for holding me steady and for letting me soar.
.mac :)
