My return to Scattering Agates has been a little difficult because I am not the same person I used to be. My writing in the past was an outlet while I figured out how to stay sane and raise small children. At that time I was in the thick of it. I was in the middle of the woods, so to speak, and had to feel for branches and stumble over rocks and stumps just to survive.
After over 10 years in that tangled forest of raising babies and toddlers, I have now come to a sort of clearing. I'm in an open meadow where some flowers grow and the sun shines on the golden grass. The flowers and grass are my own children's gifts and accomplishments beginning to bloom and grow and reflect God's light. They and I have grown beyond the twisted forest of nursing, diaper changes, toddler meltdowns, and potty training. Grace is now 12, Clare almost 8 and Eli just turned 5 and I, well, I'm pushing 40. It's different here. Things are more clear and, in a way, I am more at peace.
The problem is, there is no path. I stand here with the dark forest behind me. Those years were full of chaos, hardships, and sleeplessness. When I look ahead, the light glares, I feel uncomfortable with it, like I need some dark sunglasses. It's an unsettled feeling mixed with a tinge of fear. Sometimes I even wish I could turn around and go back because I got comfortable back there where it was dark, unpredictable and raw. It was stressful and full of snarls and jags, but I got pretty good at meandering around the obstacles. I got used to a life of survival.
Going back is not an option. So, right now I stand here, stare, blink and wonder, "What do I do now?" I guess it's just the next part of the journey. Eventually, I'll get used to this spot on the trail of life. Then, as soon as I get comfortable with the navigation of the meadow, it will be behind me and I'll be staring, blinking and wondering at the next unexplored terrain.