Out of nowhere, a thought crosses my mind.
At nearly all moments I am gripped with tremendous pressure about my role as parent to these four children. Every waking moment, conscious or not, I fret about whether I am doing all that I should and everything I can to be a good mother to them.
Would I be able to provide for their needs and occasional wants? These are grown kids, mind you, two in college, one in high school and one in junior high. They have to be fed and clothed and fed and sent to school and fed again and given allowances and everything in between.
Would I be able to discipline them in a way that would make me say, "I did not do so bad!" eventually? No doubt we have our share of rough days, and these are four individuals with varying temperaments and personalities. Each brings with him or her a distinct set of strengths and weaknesses, unique traits and character quirks.
I deal with them one on one and I deal with them all at the same time. And I am just one person!
Would I be able to inspire them to reach for their own full potential? And be a good person? Am I doing that as well in my own sphere, so that I lead not by dictates but by example?
All these concerns (sometimes just the first one by itself!), and the fact that I am doing these all on my own, could decidedly weigh down a woman.
And then, an epiphany. "That's because you think everything is up to you!"
I try to reason: Yes, I am a bit neurotic, but isn't it, really? It's my plans, my actions, my inaction, neatly packed in a vacuum, that would determine whether or not I do well.
The thought crosses my head a second time. "Learn to trust, and all will be well."
Trusting, especially in something external and something unknown, is foreign to me.
But I decide to give it a try, if only to lessen my constant anxiety. I force myself to abhor worrying about the future, and to concentrate on what I can do, today, right now, in the best manner I can. And everything will take care of itself. Or, put another way, somebody bigger and grander than what I can possibly comprehend -- God, the Universe, whatever we dare call it -- will ensure that everything falls into place.
So I smell a few flowers along the way. Do nothing. Get a massage. Watch mindless TV. Sleep. Fight for some me-time. Take a cab and not feel guilty.
And in a week -- and it's only Wednesday-- the trusting pays off.
I should do this more often.