Amidst the smiling faces of a typical blog page, impressions can gather that another's life seems to hold so much more. More fun. More laughter. More excitement. More everything.
I've a mother who comes with a deep well of experience in the raising of nine children and my tendencies turn to drawing eagerly from those depths. She understands. Her past has seen her overstep the very obstacles I now face. Sometimes there's a solution. Sometimes one is yet to be found. Either way there's comfort in the words she will impart.
She tells a story of a time when a sibling hung in the balance. A phone call for help in the night had her jump to the rescue with a plea sent heaven's way. Every mother's cry, "Why couldn't this be easy?" and car keys in hand, a mad dash made.
The quieting of her mind in the drive opened her thoughts and she heard it. A voice if ever there was one, "If I'd made it easy, would you try so hard?"
Thoughts turn to the easy things I've tried in my life. Most in the past. Half hearted efforts littering the wayside long forgotten and abandoned.
But for every cast off, there's also been a mountain to climb that I'm certain summits with a magnificent view. So I keep climbing. Building strength needed to accomplish what's hard.
These motherhood days of toddlers and teens find me in the depths of something more.
More worry. More concern. More heart ache. More time on bended knee. Imploring heaven's help for some well of knowledge. Throwing my own cry for parental assistance in the the night. "Why couldn't this be easy?"
It's impossible not to feel the sharpness of the question's reflection to my own rebellious soul.
The answer echoes, though, always the same. "If it were easy …. would you try so hard?"
So I look into the shining eyes and well meaning hearts of these children of mine. Taking the good with the bad. Climbing higher through the roughest terrain. Together. Because the easy way won't produce much strength. And a worthwhile view only comes from the hard.