She handed me a stack of papers, ones that I should have seen days (weeks?) ago,
and once again I am drowning.
Under the weight of papers
The boxes have piled up, the to-do lists, the record sheets,
somehow all getting lost under the other pressing (more important?) needs.
I want to thrive.
Instead, I am trying to catch my breath,
gasp for air
grasp the lifeline.
Meanwhile, the coffee is hot, the fire is raging, the snow is falling softly, the littles just beginning to stir,
the colored pencils
all close at hand.
In the stillness, I wonder if thriving looks a whole lot more finding the Rock to stand on than it does sailing over the waves, carefree and sticky with salt?
It never gives up
takes a break.
And so, I am going to stop struggling against the tides that threaten to pull me under.
I’m choosing to remember that my life has already been saved.
I’m free to move forward without being overwhelmed.
I’m free to thrive.