In church wondering why I am here. Wishing I'd listen to the voice saying, your kids are a mess, they are tired, let them sleep. stay home. Walking around wondering, "What I am I doing? Am I doing the right thing? Can she walk all around? Should I bring her outside. Are people ok if she cries?"
As I was walking out a fellow parishioner stopped me and said, "Do you want help? Normally, I would say, "No, I am fine." I am supposed to be able to take care of my kids right? But instead i said, "Yes." Yes. A simple word. "Ask for help." "Accept help!" Isn't that what everyone says to new mothers?
Accepting help offered relief.
I had a few moments to connect with my older daughter, to calm her down and smooth the sourpuss off her face. A moment to prepare myself for communion after being flustered most of the service.
I wrote the above paragraphs four years ago, and true to where I was four years ago, never got back to finishing it. I remember exactly how it felt, and although I still have many struggles with my children in services, I am so happy to see that my internal dialogue has grown a bit. Just a bit, but I am glad I didn't listen to that voice that wanted to keep my from services.
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