I got really, really mad.
I am a fickle woman. I love the mountains I climb. Other days I hate them. I always preach, to myself and others, the importance of reflection and joy and searching and now.
The importance of being here, now.
It's hard to always be present. I'm learning that lately. It is hard to always be present.
Sometimes you don't want to wake up. Sometimes you don't want to finish. Sometimes you can't see the top of your mountain because you're in a forest. Sometimes you want to quit. Sometimes you want to run away. Sometimes you forget. You forget the point of everything you're doing. Or you even forget to forgive yourself. Sometimes you have no hope. Sometimes you're jealous. Sometimes you are done, just done. Sometimes you have to move on. And sometimes you're not there, sometimes you're not present.
I used to ride my bicycle to a job I hated and never believed in. I would wake up at six every morning that summer and take off down the road with tired eyes and I would say a few words to myself as I pedaled. I am doing this for India, I would tell myself that. And then I would go down the list. I am doing this for India. For France. For Romania. For Africa. For Italy. For children.
I am doing this for children.
I don't always remember to wake up and tell myself those things now. After I quit that job, I just stopped. So now it's harder. For some reason, it's not the same when I have to say those things as I roll out of bed instead of ride down my hill. There was a shift in meaning. The volume of those words is different now.
I think it's heavier.
I am so close. So close to finishing things I started long ago. So close to the children.
It's hard work, being here, all the time. Being present. Existing.
God is good though. He lightens my burdens with black coffee and baby chicks and nice paints. He knows me. He understands. He understands that I am not always present, and that's okay.
It is okay to be mad some days.
It is okay.
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