Some days, weeks even, parenting just makes me tired. I’m not talking physically exhausted or sleepy, though that happens too. I’m talking about facing my children’s needs and feeling like they gape out in front of me like the grand canyon. I have to take this small person next to me and get us over there. Somehow. Without a map, or a guide, or even a burro to help carry all the baggage. I can’t even tell how far it is to the other side. It could be that we’ll step out and discover our feet landing on a miraculous bridge like the one in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. I pray for a bridge. But I’m pretty sure most of this trip will be done the hard way. Lots of walking, dust, confusion, rattlesnakes, and muddling through. And the truth is, I’m not beginning these trips. We’re already in the middle with miles behind us and miles yet to go.
At this point I should probably have something lovely to say about faith and inspiration. I’ve relied on them greatly in the past. I’ll do so again. They are the only way I have to find those miraculous bridges. But right this minute, I don’t feel a flow of calmness or comfort. I don’t have a clear vision for what the path should be. I can’t even be sure that the gaping canyon I’m staring at is actually a canyon or if it is an optical illusion shaped out of my own fears rather than the actual needs of my child. I could be taking things far too seriously. Or I could be failing to take them seriously enough. I don’t know. Yet. But I will. I will gather information, we’ll start moving, and we’ll revise travel plans on the fly. Because that is the only way I know how to do things. And somewhere as we’re walking a bridge or a map will show up for us to help us through.
And maybe I’ll wake up tomorrow in a different day and it will all feel much easier.