So finally, my life has begun to slow down.
Seriously, I don’t think I have been so busy. I would wake up and not sit down for hours. I would rack up the steps on my Fitbit just for walking back and forth. I am so thankful that we are finally moved, unpacked, and settled.
And it feels good here. Don’t tell my friends back home, but Texas is starting to be pretty enjoyable, maybe even feeling a little like home.
I was even able to crochet and knit this week, and there may be a trip to the fabric store, in my future soon.
But as my feet took steps toward the couch, and I was going to sleep at a reasonable time, I began to start thinking more about the wreck.
This past week or so I have seen so many tragic stories via my Facebook page. People are sad, people are giving up, people are losing loved ones, even little babies.
It doesn’t seem fair. And that, my friends, is when the guilt begins to appear.
Yes, the truth is, I do feel better now. The knot on my head is almost gone and while my shoulder and arm still hurt, I am able to use it more, I have been able to face the car, and even the road where the wreck took place. I’m no longer angry at God for, what I thought was, betrayal. In fact, I’m pretty happy that it happened, because it was seriously a huge unanswered prayer, which just goes to show you, that He is always there and He is always listening.
But, when I see other people’s tragedies, I can’t help but feel bad. Why me? Why did you choose to save me and not them? Why my kids, but not theirs?
The last one really gets me because, if I can be honest, I do my best to be a great mother, but I fail most of the time. Of course, they get what they need, and most of what they want, but I feel like I am always telling them to ‘hold on’ or ‘give me a minute’ or ‘not right now’. I’m here, in the house with them, but I’m not always ‘here’. With Beautycounter, She Made It Homemade’s, Lauren Falber, and even the small load that I have been given at church, I am almost always too busy to really pay attention to them.
Don’t get me wrong, we play, and we talk, and I hold, and we eat, and we watch movies together, but part of me feels like I’m not really enjoying it like I should be because I always have something else that I could be doing on my mind. Something else that needs to be done.
And I hate that I am like that. I know how fast this time goes. I know that in the grand scheme of things, this, this right here, is too short. I am watching them grow and learn and become more independent each day, and yet, I can’t slow down because I’m doing this for them.
But is that enough? Or is that just what I tell myself to make it hurt less?
After witnessing myself just how short and precious life can be, I still haven’t changed. I’m still the same ol’ Lauren I was on that morning, except I just have a fear of running off the road and wrecking now.
And then I see these people who have lost someone they love, and they are hurting, and they would do anything for one more day, and here I am, twiddling my thumbs.
What’s my purpose, Lord? Why me? Because now, now, I feel like a let down. I feel like you expected BIG things from me, and I haven’t delivered. Why am I here?
I’m a little nervous to pray on that one. So I’ll just keep twiddling.