I’ve been spending a lot of time among office supplies at work, and it got me to thinking about which desk item I might be. After a lot of hemming and hawing, which I do whenever there is ANY decision to be made, I decided I am a rubber band. Rubber bands are flexible and malleable, though I'm not sure how functional they are as an actual "office" tool. I've seen them wrapped around file folders, and a bunch of pencils, but that's about it. Sometimes I put one in my hair when I brush my teeth at work, which is always helpful in upping my pain threshold when it's time to remove it. You can fling them around, and they bounce back pretty well, no worse for the wear. Sometimes though, when you really, really stretch them, they snap, and this is where I definitely identify as one with the band (but not a groupie). I'm not exactly the strong band in the bunch though, you know, the one where you keep stretching it and messing with it, thinking, "wow, I can't believe this little doo gad hasn't busted yet!” No, I'm the little one that you mess with mindlessly, twiddling your thumbs around, when out of nowhere, I totally bust apart in the palm of your hand. If you care enough about me, you have to tie a little knot in me, and I'm pretty much back together again. I have to thank the people in my life who have hung around to lovingly put little knots in me where I busted apart unexpectedly, because now I'm so full of knots that I'm practically a new person. I can look back at all my knots and remember that I'm loved, and I've done hard things, and I'm stronger for it. Before I really broke and had to be put back together again, I spent a lot of time just wrapping myself up with other really uber flexible and unstable rubber bands. We were pretty much just clinging to each other in a big old rubber band ball without much purpose. It sure was fun though, all that bouncing around, without responsibility, and none of us fell apart until we went off on our own and realized bouncing was near impossible when you're just a floppy little string.
Anyway, I like my knotty self, but sometimes knots come undone, which was the case the other morning. I had been up most of the night with one child or another, (I guess this will just be a theme for my blog for now), and my new friend Insomnia hung out with me during the "in between" time, just in case I was feeling lonely I suppose. Which, I wasn't, but she doesn't take a hint well, and since I'm oh so flexible, I let her stay....So, in the morning, Anthony asked me how the night went, and this is what happened in the next 5minutes.
Me: "I feel horrible, and I am convinced God hates me, and wants me to be miserable, and so I don't believe there is a God any more".
Anthony: No comment
So, I wearily pulled a sweater from the disaster that is my "sweater pile”, tugged it over my head, and slammed my "funny bone" into the door frame. Apparently, there is a direct link between your “funny bone” and your eyes, because an uncontrollable sprinkler of tears exploded from my face and continued as I pouted all the way to the coffee pot. This was followed by sobbing in a standing fetal position for five minutes, only to be interrupted with gulps of coffee. Woe is me....obviously.
Anthony: No comment
Another common theme - Liz cries a lot. It's not "I cry a lot because I'm so sad about my life". No no no no. I cry over whatever makes me feel, and I feel a lot. I learned when I was 25 that I was simply born missing an extra layer of protection that other people have. This is clearly a blessing and a curse. It's what caused me to walk home from elementary school boo-hooing on my best friend's shoulder because Mark Richard's was picked on, and "gosh, can you imagine how sad he must feel?", and "can you imagine how hard it is for his mommy to know that he is sad at school?” Missing that layer is what caused me to look for multiple ways to check out of life, because it is all just too much to feel most of the time. (A whole different blog all together my friends)… On the other end, it's what allows me to connect with people, empathize, sympathize, and find compassion. It allows me to just “know” when something isn’t right with my family, a friend, or a student. It’s the reason people seem comfortable coming to me for advice….okay okay, probably, definitely NOT advice, but maybe just an ear. Getting to feel all this stuff, all the time, is also what allows me to cry like a broken faucet when I bump my elbow and I'm a tad bit sleepy...but I'm working on that. Fortunately, being a "Highly Sensitive Person" (what the psychology people call it) also has its benefits with God, because, even after I verbally pronounced him banished from my life, I felt him again, not ten minutes later.
I pulled myself together and walked into Cora's room to get her dressed. Her room was like a little incubator, with the glow of night lights and ocean sounds coming from the white noise machine. I watched her stretch and squeak, and as she opened her eyes and looked at me, she gave me the goofiest little smile. From the room across the hall, I heard Ella's own rendition of greeting the morning. It was a little less goofy and slightly more grumpy, but all Ella none the less. As I stood there in the dim light, listening to my sweet girls greet the day, I couldn't help but feel God standing right behind me whispering and smiling, "there now, you are doing good mama, just look at how much I love you". My shoulders relaxed, and my heart opened back up. There really couldn't be a more pure reflection of God's love. I felt a little silly, soaking in all that comfort from the guy I had JUST kicked out of my heart and home. I guess that’s how grace works. Note to self…
I know there are other rubber band mamas out there. In fact, I think we are all rubber band mamas at one time or another. There is good news, bad news, and news to remember when it comes to this particular ailment.
The Bad News– All mamas worry about their babies, particularly through transitions, when things are hardest for them - but when we are feeling more like a rubber band, and less like the desk that holds it all together, we will not sleep, we will not eat, we WILL cry, we/I will want to drink or use food to get through it. We will search and search for some way to make the anxiety and worry go away, we will be overbearing, and our husbands will tell us a thousand times over “everything will be fine”, and we won’t believe them. We will, in effect, drive people crazy trying to make sure our babies don’t have to feel bad. Through it all, we will mostly be ineffective.
The good news – (In my opinion) As a rubber band mama, you have earned credibility with your kids just by the sheer fact that you are always open and honest with your emotions. I feel like children are amazing barometers when it comes to adult sincerity. They learn early on who they can trust and not trust. I’m not saying I walk around my house letting my emotions fly all over the place, because obviously, my children would be catching the first bus to “Anywhere but the playroom with mommy”. I’m simply talking about one of the fundamental building blocks of relationships, which is intimacy. Intimacy comes from being open and honest. As a rubber band mama, I have no choice but to be transparent, and I know that this will result in my girls feeling that they can have an open and honest relationship with me.
Something to remember – It’s not about me, and it’s not about you. Really and truly, at the end of the day, these girls were not my creation, they were God’s creation. He chose me (yay!!!) to be their guiding light, but I am not their only light. Where I fail, I pray he will pick up and help them along. He has a plan for me and he has a plan for them. Sometimes, I think God is going to make me look like a big fat failure in front of my girls, just so they know that part of being a woman is falling down. Then, God is going to pick me back up, dust off my pants while I wipe my tears away, and push me back out there so I can show my girls that part of life is getting back up again, and asking God for help. Sometimes God is going to do something REALLY scary with my kids, and give me a whole bunch of new knots to keep me strong. I won’t like it, but I’ll just have to keep reminding myself that if it weren’t for them, I wouldn’t know my own resilience. I would forget all the times God had showed up when I had kicked him out.
So, when it feels like you are stretched too thin, or when you are about to break from carrying all the emotions of your little one, remember God. When you feel like one of your knots is going to come undone because the world is a big old disaster, and really, how many landfills can there be? And how many of these kids really call a place like that home!? Remember God. When you haven’t slept in over 100 days, and you can’t remember how to spell words, I can tell you, it’s still possible to remember God.
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