My writing lately has become more personal than fictional. I promise I want to write stories, however there has been a huge weight on my shoulders that I want to free myself from. So, unless you don't mind me pouring out my heart for this post, things are about to get personal... again.
Last night I feel asleep looking at the moon. I tried to close my eyes, but its light was overpowering through the darkness. My husband slept peacefully beside me and I could hear Zeke ruffling his covers in the next room.
I remembered a time when I looked upon that same moon, only several years earlier. I was living with my parents then. Patiently awaiting my junior year of college. I remember one night in particular. I could hear the crickets singing outside my two-story windows. I loved that bedroom, especially for the windows. As I gazed out the full moon was staring right back at me. I wasn't tired then. I was dreaming, but I was wide awake.
I like to daydream (or nightdream in this case). It's one of those things I do to escape the stress or the mundane. That night I was dreaming about my future. I was thinking about what I would be like, what I would be working for, and all the things I hoped to accomplish. I never quite imagined life as it is now.
Watching home videos this afternoon brought back so many memories of my childhood. I would look at my five-year-old self with those scrawny legs and messy black hair with all of that energy (I'm pretty sure my son takes after me in the energy department) and would never imagine to be where I am now. I am happily married and together my husband and I have a token of our love in the form of Ezekiel. God took me through college and two years of working with children before allowing me to stay home and nurture my own child. Some days I feel so blessed for who I am and what I do.
Other days I feel guilty. I feel guilty that I'm not out putting 40 hours or more on the clock to provide an extra income to give Zeke more. I feel guilty that some days I do well to get the laundry into the dryer, let alone folded and put away. I feel guilty that Daniel lets me sleep in on weekends even though Zeke lets me get a full 8 hours every night. I feel guilty that working mothers judge me or envy me. I feel guilty that I'm not known to anyone as "Kendra" but as "Zeke's mom." It's a very honorable title, but at times I feel guilty that God isn't having me do something more with my time.
I looked up at the moon last night and poured my heart out to God. I have so many questions and I know by faith I will be fine not knowing any of the answers. I know that motherhood is a great calling, and by no means a small job in the kingdom of God. I know that even if I'm nothing other than a mother on this earth I can still honor and glorify Him who gifted me with this blessing and ability. I know that at times I will belittle myself for not being one of "those" moms, who leave their children with their relatives and go out and about every week doing something of utter importance. Nevertheless, this is the job God has given me for the time being. And I believe I'm working on something God would have be do later on.
I'm thrilled at the opportunity to write you, dear readers, no matter who you are or why you happened upon my little journal here. I believe that I will write and my writing will be useful and inspiring to people. I have hope and a dream. And I'm not going to let the little things hold me back from whatever path God beckons me to take.
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