Broken And Fragile And Waiting

I am sitting in a Barnes & Noble in Cleveland, Ohio. Snow is lightly – very lightly – falling. The world outside is busy; it is a Monday morning, a workday.

I sit with my headphones tucked into my ear, the gentle songs of Beethoven drifting into my head. Piano sonatas; grace floats by.

The B&N soundtrack sneaks its way between the plastic earbuds and the flesh of my ears, and I hear snippets of “Ooh Baby, Baby”. I’m back in 1980; Linda Ronstadt and Terri Hodges and me and the piano, feeling the power of major seventh chords and two-part harmony. Singing in the high school talent show, playing the piano.

I feel sort of suspended in time, here. Disconnected. The world is working around me, and I dangle here in motherhood, “with” my second oldest daughter. Supervising from afar. Just here, as mothers are wont to be; out of sight, but close enough for rescue if needed. She is across the street, spending the morning in a working interview with the family-business team that has offered her a summer internship. I am parked at the bookstore, on call. She doesn’t know I am here, across the street, but I am. More for me than for her, I suppose. I am here.

These moments are very real. I am present in them. But it all feels somewhat ethereal. I am waiting for something. There is much to be done, but I am waiting.

My brother posted this morning, a beautiful essay that boldly states, “Yes, we are broken and fragile.”

I am that, today. Feeling fragile, dangling in between the mother I have always been, the mother I am yet to be. Tentatively testing the waters, gauging the temperatures, trying to comprehend exactly what is expected of me in these days. Waiting for something I cannot describe. Ready to look up and say, “Ah – there you are!” 

I trust I will recognize it when I see it.

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3 Comments

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  1. One of the exciting things to me about being a Christ follower is trusting that things will be revealed to me, trying to be patient and be open to recognize them. Not trying to find the answers based on 'me' but rather on HIM. It's exciting that you share your journey and that it has a lot to do with the one we're on, too. That is helpful. We can experience things together, in community, obviously stronger in person, but online has merit too. Just read your brother's essay. Loved it. Was thinking, oh cool, he posted a video too at the bottom, then realized it was an advertisement!

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  2. Oh, Beth, you've made me cry this morning. I recognize my own brokeness and I sense that I am in an important place right now- a place of exploration and of seeking direction and all I can do is wait and somehow, miraculously, I've been given a little extra time to do that (had my second surgery, thought the doc was going to release me back to work but he didn't).

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