As a writer, I cannot contain my words in my head for long. There have been times when the flow of words streamed through my head when I was incredibly tired following a long day and rather than get up and plot them out, I assured myself I would remember and write first thing in the morning. Anyone who writes will agree that while the idea may still be there, the words simply to not come to mind in the same eloquent sequence. That is why I am sitting here on a Friday morning and typing out the thoughts and feelings that I just can't shake.
The words "strong" and "strength" have been coming up in conversation with me frequently in the last few weeks. I struggle with accepting compliments. I am not a shy person nor someone who refrains from expressing my thoughts but accepting a compliment is borderline painful for me.
I have not had a functioning car for a month and while in the grand scheme of things, it is a minor inconvenience. I had arranged a ride for Sammy to school this week with my mom on Tuesday and Friday because I arrive at work at 7 a.m. The issue arises due to the fact that my mom is totally deaf. She is unable to hear an alarm clock or a phone, so how am I supposed to be certain she is awake and on her way to picking up Sammy for school? I can't.
Mom didn't wake up on time and I only know because Sammy's school called to check on him as he hadn't arrived to school on time. I called Sammy and he answered the phone with sobs that immediately pierced my heart. What kind of mother am I that I cannot even get my son to school on time? It took me back to the time I was overlooked when my family left for vacation up north. I was 13 and sitting on my piano teacher's front porch, hiding my tear streaked face in my hands. How could I be forgotten? I felt like I didn't matter to anyone. I heard that same heart ache and sadness in my baby's voice this morning.
How does all of this evolve into my difficulty in accepting a compliment? Well five years ago I took a class through church about the meaning of Biblical names. The very first class involved looking up the meaning of our own names. Stacie is derived from Anastasia which means "of the resurrection." In addition, we looked up the Biblical meaning and verse tied to our names. My verse is Isaiah 40:31, "But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on the wings of eagles; they will run and not grow weary; they will walk and not be faint." The meaning of my name is "strength."
In the previous two years, I have heard from friends and loved ones how they admire my strength. I have also had people in my yoga classes remark how they are amazed at my strength in going into and holding poses. Hearing my son's sobs rendered me weak and heartbroken. I felt useless, I felt as though I had failed him. As a mother, I promised that I would do everything within my power to assure my sons that they are loved unconditionally and deeply and that they would never question my love for them. In that moment, I felt like I broke that promise.
I text messaged my dear friend how much my heart ached and in his typical yet amazing fashion, he told me that I had no reason to suffer guilt, that I had not let my son down and that my love for the boys is undeniably apparent. Though his words conjured a well of tears, I was immediately soothed. with perfect timing, I read a quote, "There was so much more to her than met the eye. She had the strength of a hundred people, and the heart of a thousand."
I will accept that compliment. I am strong, I have overcome some huge hurdles and I will continue to forge ahead.
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