The windows rattled and the wind howled as lightening lit up and sky and flashed though wooden slats of the nursery blinds. The strobe light effect and a hot muggy house kept Felix restless during his usually peaceful nighttime routine
I nursed my wiggly little boy and his sweaty skin stuck to my arm and eyes struggled to find sleep in the midst of the storm. He could sense my tension. He could feel my body stiffen every time the windows shook and his hand wandered up to my cheek pulling my gaze back down to his wide open eyes instead of trying to sneak a peak at the weather alerts on my phone or out the window at the swirling trees.
He was worried because I was worried. I did my best to relax. I closed my eyes and rested my head on the back of the rocker. A deep breath in and I began to sing a tried and true lullaby over him.
Down in the valley; the valley so low
hang your head over; hear the wind blow
He calmed and his eyes closed. I felt his breathing slow to a steady and slow rhythm and I let my mind wander gently stoking the back of his hand and letting my fingers dance around his still bald head, cheek and ear. He calmed as I calmed. He mimicked me. He followed my lead. In the eye of the storm his heart posture was reflecting mine. As his mother, care taker, the one he trusts most - if she is OK, I'm OK.
I thought about how nice that must be. How nice it would be to have someone leading you. Someone from whom you could take cues and be put at ease because they have it under control. You have that in loving parents as a child, but children grow up. Move away. Have lives of their own. And along with those lives comes decisions, questions, adversity, storms. It's hard.
The past few days I have had this heavy feeling looming over me. I can't shake it. I feel hopeless, useless, worthless and bored. It's taken a toll on my family and altered the peaceful home we usually have. I hate it. Sometimes I can see the bad mood from a distance drift like a dark storm cloud looming and other times it hits so quickly no one has the chance to prepare. The wreckage of a blow-out fight leaving days of me picking through wreckage.
And in the pit of this self-loathing and lashing out I was reminded of a verse I recently read that spoke to my heart and I read it again.
Lord, you alone are my portion and my cup;
you make my lot secure.
The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;
surely I have a delightful inheritance.
I will praise the Lord, who counsels me;
even at night my heart instructs me.
I keep my eyes always on the Lord.
With him at my right hand, I will not be shaken.
Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices;
my body also will rest secure,
because you will not abandon me to the realm of the dead,
nor will you let your faithful one see decay.
You make known to me the path of life;
you will fill me with joy in your presence,
with eternal pleasures at your right hand.
It is always him. He is the ONLY thing I can boast in. He is my leader. My Peace. My lover. My friend. My comfort. My redeemer. My Everything.