There is something pure about running in the rain.
The combination of inhaling nature and fighting nature at the same time is powerful.
And…Not to mention feeling all badassery because you are running despite darkness, wetness, coldness.
I find this to be true in many aspects of life.
In mothering, we find moments of unforgettable beauty like when you see your baby for THE VERY FIRST TIME, inhaling newborn smells. But to get there you fought the natural searing pain of labor and childbirth.
In parenting, we hold onto with dear life the first sounds, the first lost tooth, first day of school, the Firsts of Everything, the raspy whispers of “I love you’s,” the tiny hands held in yours, the mornings you see and embrace your little bedheads with stinky breath. We savor these moments because let’s face it–there’s a lot of mundane in day-to-day life. So we hold tight to these like a baby holding its beloved binkie. And yet parenting requires of me, that I fight against my own selfish nature, my need to control, my crazy desire for an always-clean house.
It’s a push and pull in our soul, this wild and precious thing called life and all its magnificence and madness.
In hardship, we recognize the depths we are brought to, and find beauty there. It tenderizes our hearts and creates a vastness of compassion.
It can also make us hard. Bitter. Angry. Challenges do that, and for the preservation of our souls and relationships, we must choose: cynical or soft, tough or tender. In reality, we probably carry a little of both, but lean more in one direction or the other. It’s in our spirit. It’s in our mindset. It’s in our attitude.
For me, as one caring for a disabled child, it’s a chronic hardship I endure and persevere through.
Sometimes I am a puddle of love and patience when Ryan anxiously or aggressively flips out, and sometimes I am not. Like not at all, and then I feel horrible, guilty and unhappy with myself.
Yet, like this morning, when I laced up my blue and pink Asics, eagerly and joyfully anticipating the challenge to run in the rain and darkness at 5:45 am, I want to anticipate my daily or hourly journey, with Ryan, with Prader-Willi syndrome, with my husband and family, inhaling the richness it brings.
There is raw purity in experiencing the exquisite, emotional journey of being Ryan’s mom. Of just being a mom.
I will inhale the beauty. Fight. And exhale.