Equilibrium

I don't know why I've been struggling so much to find my balance lately. Today's lesson in Relief Society at church was about "the one". The one who feels alienated, lost, confused or lonely within the congregation (and the world as a whole I suppose). I think that "the one" is often a person you might not expect her to be--she can be a pretty good faker. I've been her. Frankly, I think we all feel this way at some point in our lives. The lesson progressed and I spoke up more than usual, which felt a little awkward today. We talked about it being difficult to move out of our own minds and concerns enough to reach out, about how we need the connections even though they can be hard to make.

I found this quote today at Magpie Girl's blog and it brought tears to my eyes because it captures perfectly the kind of person I want to be.

May the blessing of light be upon you--
Light without and light within.
May the blessed sunlight shine on you like a great fire,
So that stranger and friend may come and warm themselves at it.
And may light shine out of the two eyes of you,
Like a candle set in the window of a house,
Bidding the wanderer to come in out of the storm.

~ a traditional Celtic blessing

Sundays are often hard days for me. I love church and yet I struggle to enjoy the process of getting there (which I am doing alone since my husband leaves several hours early for his own stuff) and the dealing with wild children during meetings which are supposed to be sort of quiet and that feeling that everyone is looking and wondering who I am and what I think I am doing. Self-induced I know, which is why I still do my best to show up each week. It's my issue and I own it and am working to change the part of myself that feels so much worry and stress about measuring up sometimes.

Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, 'I will try again tomorrow.' ~ Mary Anne Radmacher

Today after the meetings, a woman stopped me to tell me that she saw me tumble in late this morning, dragging squirmy kids, and felt a pang for me. She spent a lot of years doing that, she said, and she knew how it felt and how hard it could be to keep yourself moving, to feel like it was worth the superhuman effort to not just give up and go home and cry. Lately, I have found myself surrounded by more experienced mothers who have reached out to let me know I am doing pretty good and that it's all going to be okay eventually--what a comfort.