I lost it last week.
I was overwhelmed. I was tired. Only the bra I HATE was clean. You know. The usual litany. And I just completely lost it.
Not at my kids.
At my husband.
In front of my kids, though, so that was cool.
Whatever the yelling version is of the Ugly Cry, that’s what I did. It was like being 13 again with a tiny kernel of Rational buried inside but powerless to stop the Insanity Train from crashing through the kitchen. Rational kept watch with wide eyes, though, shaking her head and muttering, “The?”
I found a better bra, and I apologized later. My kids got a lengthy apology, complete with what I should’ve done differently. Greg got a barely murmured “sorry” which I’m not proud of but felt like the best I could do. I’m working on it. And, by “working on it,” I mostly mean I’m alternating between being ashamed and practicing defensive indignation.
Imperfection, I am thy servant.
My point is, thank God it’s Spring. Thank God. And not because Spring is beautiful or April showers bring May flowers or any pretty crap like that.
I mean, yes, the cherry trees are blooming outside my window. And yes, they’re snowing blossoms in my backyard. And yes, this is my favorite time of the year. And yes, it smells like earth and joy after the rain.
But no. That’s not it at all.
Thank God it’s Spring because I am a seed.
I am a seed, and the seed, from the seed’s perspective, is totally pathetic. The seed, you see, is stuck in the dark with dirt closing in on all sides. The seed is cold. The seed doesn’t like it when it rains. And the seed is pretty sure — pretty positive at times — that she’s breaking apart, all to pieces.
The thing about the seed? She’s not wrong. She’s not wrong, but her perspective is wonky, you know. ‘Cause she lives from the inside looking out, consumed by her point of view.
But the seed from the outside looking in? She’s FULL. Which Spring reminds me.
The seed is full of life.
Full of grace.
Full of growth.
Full of power and potential and strength.
And the seed almost never believes it, but she’s full to overflowing. So full, in fact, that she’s splitting apart. Coming literally undone. Which, it turns out, is her job. Even sitting in fertilizer of her own making.
Because that seed? It’s Spring, and she is rising up to become a tree.
If you’re stuck, deep in the ground, I suggest you crank this sucker all the way up and put it on repeat.
I Am a Seed
David Crowder Band
Oh, I’ve been pushed down into the ground.
Oh, how I’ve been trampled down.
So many feet on top of me.
I can’t help but sink, sink, sink.
Oh, I am a seed.
Oh, I am a seed.
Yeah, I’ve been pushed down into the ground.
But I will rise up a tree.
You’re invited (*ahem*) to share your own fertilizer moments in the comments below.
Telling the truth is one of my favorite things we do here.
Welcome to the mess.