Looking over my last few posts, I see that I was really struggling quite a bit with the job loss and all the drama with the kids’ dad. It’s really frustrating, not just because I feel like he does everything he can to make my life miserable, but because he does things that harms the children and there’s not much I can do to stop it. So every day that I can, I try to make sure my kids are happy and healthy and are emotionally strong and resilient.
One way I’ve tried to keep myself strong and resilient the past ten years of difficulties and hardships was to keep my faith. Not necessarily faith in God per se, but faith in something better. Faith in relief. Faith in better times to come. For me, using my faith is like this:
Imagine you are drowning in the ocean. The harder you fight, the more you lose your energy, or the more you are tangled in seaweed or any other thing that could ensnare you. It’s like a losing fight and you are doomed from the beginning. When teaching Mason to swim in the deep end of the pool earlier this summer, I told him that if he couldn’t make it (swim to) the edge of the pool and started to be afraid, I told him all he had to do was take a breath in and relax his body and go under the water. I told him to do what he was afraid of: going under. Oddly enough, it’s the relaxing, the ‘giving up’, the not fighting anymore that could save you. If you can take a breath and relax in the ocean that can swallow you whole, you can lay on your back supported by the water until you regain your strength or until blessed help arrives.
After a few weeks of fighting I decided it was time to give up. At the time, my giving up wasn’t taking a breath and relaxing or going under to get my strength back. It was the giving up that said I didn’t really care anymore and I didn’t know which way was up or down and would never figure it out. I lost faith in my faith, in my reality, in my self.
It’s obvious that I’m not in the throes of death in the middle of the ocean, so I didn’t drown from seawater and I wasn’t eaten by any sharks. But after I cried it out and pitched my fits, I allowed myself to take a breath and go under and let the water lift me back up to the top.
That’s when my perspective changed. I didn’t see endless waves of ocean without start or finish, I didn’t see the impossibility of my situation anymore. I saw the sky, the bright warm rays of the sun. I heard the call of the seagull and the gentle lull of waves. I know I can float on my back for quite a while.
I’m learning to seek out hope. Not just faith. Hope is like the fuel of faith. We can’t find what we want without hoping for it. And when we start to hope that something might happen for us, we need faith to get us there, faith that it will happen. Believing it will happen. Hope allows me to want something for myself and to feel like I deserve it. It allows me to be selfish in a good way. Hope says I would love to have a bowl of ice cream. Faith is what gets me into the car to drive to the store to see if they have the flavor I want.
I hope for many things today. I hope for my kids to be greater than I am. I hope to give them what their little hearts desire, things that have been for so long withheld from them. I hope they will grow up to be leaders and givers, people who carve their names on the heart of this world through actions of goodness and kindness and love.
It’s also for myself that I’m hope-full today. It feels good to entertain hope. I don’t have to try to figure it out or make it work. I can just lay in the water and let hope take me where I need to go.

