This was written a little while back, so, don’t worry I’m not feeling like this today but it has struck me again today how doing what I do is often a battle. As a bit of background, I wrote it after a week of being challenged from several quarters, on being a mum in ministry.
We like to think we live in an era of equality and tolerance, but sometimes I wonder how much has actually changed? Don’t get me wrong I am sure those who fought against inequality and intolerance years before I was even born would think I am lucky, or should perhaps be grateful for the opportunities I have, and I absolutely am. Some of those women who have gone before had courage that I can only dream of. But sometimes it just gets a bit much, it’s a bit overwhelming, and crawling into a cocoon for a little while to lick my wounds is necessary. That’s the place where this came from…
I’m not quite me today.
Bruised.
Questioning.
Can’t explain what’s in my head or help others to see it.
Nowhere for the feelings to go.
Tears close to the surface when I least expect it.
I’m scatty. Nervous. Awkward. Anxious.
Exposed.
It’s not the big things that tip the scales, but the relentless drip drip drip of condemnation.
Discrimination.
‘I think…’
‘You should…’
‘It’s not your battle…’
‘What about…’
‘Really?’
Poking fun.
Except it’s not funny. Not today. Not any day.
Today I am the buckaroo horse, weighted down with loads. Placed with lack of thought. Lack of compassion. Of understanding. No knowledge of the care required in this game, so that at any point one load might be the one that makes the horse kick.
Sometimes the fight is too hard. It’s draining. Tiring. Unequal weights.
Today needs comfort and refuge, the everlasting arms, a wing to shelter under.
Tomorrow whispers hope.
These loads don’t belong to me, they belong to others. Shared with a need to replicate. To validate. To prove. To be right.
Tomorrow I shall kick off the loads, buck back into action.
I hope.
Today needs kindness. Soothing of wounds. Gentle arms enfolding. Letting tears flow.
Tomorrow, again, the battle is mine.
I am a fighter. I will speak out.
I will be who God made me to be:
God the Father, God the Mother, the Son and the Holy Spirit.
Today is for slipping back inside the shell.
But just for a while. There is a battle to be fought.
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