I was at work today, nannying for miss Ansley. As usual she didn't sleep much the night before and I was given the wonderful job of appeasing and playing with a child who wants everything and nothing all at the same time. The attempt at a nap failed miserably and by 5 pm this evening Ansley was laying on the floor in target sprawled out screaming. Her words had long since ceased and only screams and groans and growls remained. For awhile I kept getting frustrated with her, reminding her to use her words to get her needs met. She looked at me with her 20 month old eyes as if I had lost my mind...and maybe indeed I had. So in that moment I stopped, looked at that little girl who was driving me crazy, and scooped her up into my arms. One would think she would respond with thankfulness and love, right? Yeah not so much. The screaming got louder in fact and she flailed about in attempt to free herself of the arms that held her tight. I wasn't really phased. I struggled to carry her and the things we were buying all at one time but i managed to awkwardly proceed to the checkout. In exhaustion she gave in and clung tighter to my arms...laying her head down my my shoulder.
It is funny that I find so many parallels between myself and this sweet almost 2 year old. She so blatantly freely expresses the feelings I make look so tidy and neat. I fall apart behind closed doors, when I can hide from the world, where no one can see the shame of my failure. Now it was never that Ansley had failed at anything. Ansley was simply over her capacity. She was capable of expressing her needs to a point, and than when the exhaustion set in...when her lack of sleep and inadequate nutrition and irritation with a new baby brother being born all came to a peak she lost her connection to what she wanted and what she needed. She had no clue what she wanted or needed. All she knew was that she was in distress and that she was mad about it. She began to fight everyone and everything...in attempt to make her world stop hurting. She didn't need me to wait until she figured out the right words to express what she wanted. She didn't need me to explain to her the reasons behind my decisions. She needed me to put down the other things I was carrying, get down on the floor with her, and scoop her into my arms. She needed to feel safe in the midst of not knowing any of the answers.
I'm not sure exactly how this translates to me. I'm an adult, I don't need to be carried. I know better than to lay on the floor throwing a tantrum...but some days I wish i was brave enough to not care...and to express how I am really feeling. I'm sure some would say the translation is my need to be the "grown up" Bethany and come in and metaphorically pick up that little girl inside myself and take care of her. The problem is that I don't see the little girl Bethany laying on the floor sprawled out, angry at being on the ground and angry if I have to stand up...I see me. As myself. Totally unsure of what to do. I don't know, I guess it just is the picture to explain the feeling inside of me that lacks words. All that is left is suppressed screams and censored growls. All that is left is the silence...is the smile that convinces no one.
I don't know what to do. I don't know how to make it to the next point on my life map. I don't know how to reconcile the feelings and the memories and my relentless faith in Jesus...and the exhaustion that has set in. How long do you fight when it feels like the deeper you go the worse things become? How do you keep pressing forward when there is no sign of light at the end of the tunnel? I know the answer is that you do it by moving with courage. I know that you keep pressing because the only true sign of failure is ending the battle in retreat...that forward movement in and of itself is victory. Maybe the lack of words and the fallen posture aren't the worst place to be. Perhaps its when we have lost all words and lost all fight that we lay broken and mold-able. Perhaps its that when all of my answers run out that I am suddenly able to hear the Lords voice. Its when my best attempt has failed that I maybe become willing to listen to the voices of those who believe the light is coming soon. I ran out of the "I know better"...and I have been left with the broken realization that I really don't know the way out. The only thing I cling on to is that God does.
So tonight I lay broken on the floor, exhausted...trying so hard to figure out what will pacify the swirling of my mind. But instead of numbing out I lay in silence...deciding that sleep will bring morning and morning new light...new hope...new joy...new perspective.
"I don't know much, that much is true. The queries are endless, my answers are few. But life has caused me to conclude, I can face what I don't know by singing about what I do." - Ginny Owens
