When my husband asked me a couple of months ago if I regretted our move to Texas, I had to think for a moment before I gave him an honest “no.” We had a good five years here, and the sixth year was rough for a pile of different reasons. But those good five years, and the good moments in that sixth year, just highlighted the many things, positive and negative, that we learned about our temporarily adopted state.
More than ever before, this will continue to be my workshop space, a place where I can go to process the many life changes that are coming down the line. I have come to terms with the fact that learning to write for other audiences and spaces as I expand my writing experience and my portfolio means that writing that is solely for me will have to be less consistent. And that’s ok. That move will allow this to truly be the space for the “unexpected journey” as I turn my focus here to my life process and the travel our family does to help me through that process.
Yes, Seniors, the last year has brought you unexpected challenges during a time when you are figuring out who you are and what you want your future to look like. You are heading out into a world that has changed, but the trajectory of that change is not out of your hands. I have seen what you are capable of. I have seen your compassion and concern for others. I have seen your creativity and desire for a better future. I have seen your passion and I’ve watched you march for change.
I’m interested in healing the wounds, a healing that can only happen if we actually learn from the past this time. I really don’t want to fear the next pandemic. I don’t want to fear the next crisis. I want to be able to trust that my fellow citizens will look out for each other and not just their own interests. I want to believe that more of us understand that we are interdependent and that this interdependence makes us stronger, not weaker. I want to believe that we are better than our social media accounts say that we are.
Motherhood will always be one of the greatest joys in my life, because I pray that it will continue to offer a fullness far beyond the moment my children are officially grown. But it is not the only joy in my life nor is it the only vocation God has called me to.
I’ve had to grapple with the fact that perfectionism is a lonely space. A space where you know you should ask for help, where you shouldn’t go it alone, but something keeps telling you that to ask for help is to accept failure.