but I said what I said.  Because while my kids are brilliant, they don’t tend to be the joiners of all the things. I’ve watched my friends juggling an impossible load of their kids’ schedules, volunteering at school events, while somehow their houses always stay clean and their kids have regular haircuts.  I’ll start by saying that I am in awe of these women, and I believe with my whole heart that given a cape and tiara, they could, without question, rule the world.  I’ll follow that by saying that I’ve been secretly happy that my kids haven’t been interested in too many outside of the normal level of crazy extras, leaving my life (while still resembling an unsteady Jenga tower that depends on obscene amounts of caffeine) somewhere in the realm of achievable.

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Fast forward to my current situation, as I sit on my couch after spending the last two  hours adding my upcoming high school freshman’s activity schedule into my calendar, feeling my blood pressure skyrocketing past “consider dialing 911” levels, and by mid-September calendar entries, have opened a bottle of wine and broken out the in-case-of-emergency chocolate.  Because this, my friends, definitely qualifies as an emergency. 

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I’m relatively sure I’ve entered a stage of grief of the death of a dream-my motivation to survive…the 9 AM school start time! Which has now been replaced by daily 6 AM practices, after-school practices, games, weekend performances, and required parent volunteering (I’d like to mention the requirement negates the volunteer aspect, but I digress), until I die.  Somewhere in there, he’s supposed to go to actual school, learn things and remember to do homework that I’m completely unequipped to help him with unless I develop a deep bond with ChatGPT.  Oh and I have a husband, and another child, a full-time job, four dogs, a cat, a (Lord willing) temporary bunny and there’s probably a partridge in a pear tree somewhere.  Obviously, I’m going to have to be cloned a few times, but seriously, how have you all been doing this? I’m in full blown I-can’t-do-this-I’m-going-to-fail-and-my-kid-is-going-to-end-up-with-face-tattoos-because-of-aforementioned-epic-failure mommy meltdown mode. 

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It’s fine, though.  We’re fine.  Everything is on fire, but totally fine. Will my house still be standing?  Who knows.  Are my human people going to be living on whatever food is microwavable or Uber eats-able for the next four years?  Likely.  Am I going to scream-cry in my car more often? Abso-freaking-lutely.  Will there be more wine and emergency chocolate stashes? Check and check.

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But you know what I’ve decided, while wallowing in the depths of despair and staring at the bottom of my chocolate jar?  We are going to make it. How? No idea.  Have I experienced one of those Highway to Heaven, light shining down from the sky with God’s perfect roadmap to navigate this new “adventure?” I wish, but nope.  However, I do know that it’s possible because I’ve had years of witnessing others succeed.  Because the village of women I’ve chosen to surround myself with, and who’ve chosen me as well (for no good reason that I can think of other than comic relief and an epic queso recipe) have paved the way, and are well versed in Olympic level talking-Bekah-off-a-ledge encouragement, and won’t let me fail…or at least not fail alone.  These are our people. Whoever those people are, wherever they came from, who support us in superhero fashion, whether they’ve been “yours” for a year or a few decades…your circle is your lifeline.  They are your strength when you run out, your mirror when you’ve forgotten who you are, your flashlight when you find yourself lost in the darkness again. 

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God didn’t create us for solitude.  He created us for connection.  And while it’s scary making grown-up friends (seriously, like terrifying), when you pick the right ones, and you let the right ones pick you too, this circle…this village?  It’s a gift I’ve taken for granted too often.  But if you ever find yourself in a tailspin and feel like you’re all alone, remember the ones who’ve shown up, big, small, invisible, and every way in between.  Then watch them move mountains to show up again.  Your people are the inspiration that will see you through every fire, sit with you in every valley, push you to every mountain top, and will always point you to the Son.

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“I can’t stop the downpour, but I will always join you for a walk in the rain.”

Dr. Sukhraj Dhillon