Like you I am human.
Like you I am flawed.
Like you I have ideals. Of who I am and how I live.
And sometimes I achieve those ideals.
And other times I don't.
As a mother I strive for peace.
I listen. I hear.
I reach for compassion. Understanding. Love.
And today I yelled.
I really, really yelled.
I was frustrated. Impatient. Angry.
And at it's core was fear. It's almost always fear.
And from that shadow space I lashed out.
And around here a yell isn't so different than a hit.
It's violence, from one person to another.
We can dress it up, but it's still violence.
Sticks and stones may break your bones, but words can cut much deeper.
I did that.
In a weak and fearful moment.
And even as the words came tumbling out of my mouth, I knew I wanted to take them back, but they just kept coming.
Because this was not what motherhood was meant to be.
I didn't come here to be the mama for this.
To do harm to those I love most.
I came here to be the mama with arms open wide.
To hold these precious souls in love and light and grace.
To listen. To hear. To allow.
Not to knock them down.
This isn't what mothering is about.
I was on the wrong road.
And so I said:
We sat, my child upon my lap, both of us with tears in our eyes, and I said I was sorry.
So, so sorry.
And I said I was human. And I made a mistake.
We are human. We all lose our way sometimes.
My child forgave me.
In an instant.
We worked together to undo the harm.
We found a solution to our struggle.
We found connection once more.
And then I set to the hardest work of all.
Because I was still angry. But now I was angry with me.
Yet when my children yell, I forgive them.
In an instant.
When others fall apart I reach for understanding. Love. Compassion.
And I am deserving of that same gift.
I am flawed.
I am human.
And I am forgiven.
Yes, even by my harshest critic: myself.
Because I taught and learned more through this simple act than any other today.
And from here we can truly move forward.