This Road

This past week has been all a-bustle with preparations for the opening of the Atrium at my parish next weekend. In truth, the bustling isn’t finished yet. There’s a lot more bustle waiting for me this week.

It’s a tough road when you’re running a program based on where the Spirit is leading…I definitely feel the paradox of trusting that God has this and yet doubting whether it will happen. It’s a stressful mystery because on one side, certain things need to happen (like police checks, enough volunteers, materials actually being ready to use) and there’s a hectic panic about these items when something doesn’t fall into place when it seems like it should. On the other hand, if God isn’t leading this program then what on earth am I doing here anyway? Haha, literally and symbolically, it would seem. I crack myself up sometimes. Anyway. This program wouldn’t be happening had it not been for some divine interventions, so clearly God has a desire to see this happen.

I’m feeling time is unsatisfactorily being stretched between trying to get this Atrium off the ground and making sure we also are doing our homeschool. They both seem like impossible goals right now. Add in the few writing gigs I’m doing and the thrill of playing StarCraft on the occasional evening with Andy & Fr. Darryl and it all adds up to … well … I’m not exactly sure what it adds up to. I’m sure it adds up to a lot. It does feels like it, at any rate. I mean, I’m tired all day, right?

This road. It’s tiring. I’m so thankful for the Eucharist. And in my mind, I see that sentence and laugh, cause it in truth says, ‘I’m so thankful for the thanksgiving.’ Am I just that tired? It’s probable. But I am thankful. When I’m shouting at my kids for spending 15 minutes playing around in their room instead of getting changed for bed, the thankfulness feels much much less, though I ought to be remembering it more. When the repetitive babble babble babble babble of the 2 year old just won’t stop I ought to be remembering this thanksgiving more. Here’s the thing: I often don’t.

This thankfulness is a really hard thing to do in everyday life. I’m not thankful that my son just slapped me with his shirt in anger. I’m not thankful that the youngest thinks pulling out her sister’s hair from her head in handfuls is the bees knees. I am very thankful for these children, but definitely not all their choices.

So it’s tiring. There is joy in this journey (much, in fact), but it’s always amidst this ongoing tiredness. Tired of the fighting, tired of fighting, tired of hearing ‘But I don’t wanna…’ and tired of the whining. All. Day. Long.

I expect it to remain this way, perhaps in a different form, all through their youth. It’s not that I’m expecting anything out of the ordinary. I’m more just commenting on discovering how it just goes on and on, and how deep this tiredness can sometimes become. I’ve found a similarity between this tiredness in parenting and how my faith life seems to go. There is joy in it (much, in fact), but it’s not always roses and lilies. A lot of it is trudging on, much like we trudge on in parenting. Christ in the Eucharist gives me hope beyond my experiences, and I’m thankful I’ve expanded my time at Eucharist this year as I’ve been taking Spencer once a week (in addition to Sunday!) as a part of his preparation for Confirmation and First Eucharist (properly in that order!).

I really enjoy having just one child with me for Mass, it makes such a difference! I’d love to take each child by themselves on a different day, but I don’t see that happening anytime soon. I find it a treat to be able to listen to the readings (and even the homily), and I enjoy spending that time with Spencer. Eucharist brings me joy and hope, that’s much to be thankful for. Christ truly does give us all that he is, everything, present for us in the form of humble bread and wine.

This road. It’s a tiring one, but I’m thankful Christ is with me giving reason to hope. These little ones are causes for joy and sorrow; navigating through that path takes a lot of prayer and reliance on God. As a favourite saint used to say, “Pray, hope, and don’t worry.”

So here’s to praying and hoping that I don’t worry!