Thursday, April 23, 2015
Someone posted this on Facebook awhile ago. I shared it to my daughter's page. She didn't see it for another week or so. She was busy taking care of a scary situation at work. A situation no mother wants her daughter to endure.
But she made it through the interviews, the fears, the stress and the long hours. I prayed a lot during those days. Prayed for her safety and for God to see her through.
Then she hit the wall.
She called me with tears in her voice telling me she couldn't do this job anymore. Had she made all the right decisions? Had she taken care of the people she needed to? She couldn't sleep, she couldn't eat, she couldn't care for her family.
We've all hit those proverbial walls in our lives at sometime or another. Usually, like my daughter, it's after we've handled the crisis. I remember as a young counselor, going into an apartment to find my client covered in blood. I had to talk him out of his closet to get him to the hospital before he died from blood loss. I went home and cried and cried. But I returned to work the next day.
As I've grown older, the walls are harder to hit. My move to Texas almost undid me. Then the trip home to PA and the struggle with financial needs. Finally, the return move to Florida last year. Little by little, it seems as though the bouncing back and stiff upper lip I need to make it are disappearing.
Sometimes I wonder how many more walls I have inside of me to hit. How many do you have?
But I know the answer. Just like you do.
As many as it takes to live the life we are given.
My daughter pulled herself together that day and returned to her duties. I'll follow my husband to Florida and PA again if that's where we are supposed to go. I'm sure I'll hit that wall again hard but I always know I have someplace to fall when I do.
"I'll be there," God said.