Tough As Nails

I found "The Chub" last night. This is a small, thick spiral notebook that I had carried around with me for several weeks last winter and spring. Its sole purpose was to be an immediate reservoir for any brilliant ideas I had during the day. The only thing I ever wrote in there (besides grocery lists and bill schedules) was during my family's reunion-birthday-anniversary cruise last January. My words were interesting, and I clearly remembered writing them on the little boat that took my aunt, sister, and cousin to go snorkeling in the Bahamas. The funny part was that I wrote about how the breeze was making the weariness "seep from my bones". I read it yesterday while I was home from work. That is, after I was sent home for nearly fainting during a class. Apparently, the look of my skin was so bad that my students thought I was pulling a Halloween prank.

While driving myself home, I was thinking about the recent events that led me to the afternoon and how embarrassed I felt by spilling my soul to my boss. I tend to think I look really weak when I admit the struggles I'm facing. My therapist once told me that I am anything but weak. There's a part of me that just pushes through whatever is in front of me, and I often don't realize just how daunting the task was supposed to be. Like when I got married, CLEP-ed 20 hours of college credit, earned a degree, and dealt with a missing mother who went off her meds. All during the same calendar year. While working a full-time job. Or how I've been the major bread-winner, bill payer, and housekeeper while moving, switching jobs (to a much more challenging school), and going through a miscarriage the same week I heard about two other newly pregnant family members and getting an invitation for a family baby shower.

I wish some of the weariness would seep through my bones.

What dawned on me, though, is that to look at me, you'd never know all that's gone on recently. One of my co-workers said to me this week, "I'm really glad you're here because you're always smiling." Smiles cover a lot of cracks. I'm no different from anyone else. We all have a story. We all live an interesting combination of triumph and tragedy. In the end, it IS what evens the playing field for all of us. I do hope that I can grasp this idea and make it a real part of my life. I hope I can begin looking at people as one evolving story instead of the one-dimensional piece before me. This was my prayer the other night, as I began to see that this is how my Creator actually sees me. Of course, He knows my entire story, but the important piece is that He sees me as a work in progress and not just a series of mistakes and repentance. As I begin to absorb this truth, I'm finding that I'm much more accepting and much more loving toward everyone around me.