So I Do Nothing

I was a mother for as long as I can remember. I was made to be a mom. I looked forward to it and when I first found out that Tyson was on the way? Ecstatic doesn't even fit in the realm of how I felt. I was giddy with excitement.

The moment my kids were born, one of the first things that entered their little ears was the sound of me singing:

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine 

You make me happy when skies are grey 

You'll never know dear, how much I love you 

Please don't take my sunshine away. 

As time marched forward, that song became a staple in the Deason household. I would sing it in the car while I held their hand. I rocked it when they were happy and would croon it when they were angry, hurt, sad, or tired. 

It worked out MOSTLY in my favor. However, Tyson decided he had had enough of my off-key-simple-minded vocals. He would reach up and press his toddler-fat finger to my lips and say "Shhhhhh Mommy". And I would shush. Reluctantly.

As I sang, I stroked their hair, rubbed their back, tickled their leg, massaged their hand and I would whisper a promise to never, ever, EVER allow anything to hurt them. I would do WHATEVER I needed to do to protect them. No questions. No worries. No doubt.

I have discovered that it was an arrogant promise.

Hurts came. Broken hearts happened. Friends died. 

And there were times that my kids forgot to stay on track with their inner compass.

I love to mow my lawn. I can't wait to get out in the sunshine. Barefoot. Hair in pony tail. Tank top. Shorts. The only make-up I wear is the pure joy on my face.

Some of my "deeper" thinking happens when I mow my lawn. As I wobble back and forth in perfect line behind my mower, I think. And think. And think. Sometimes I even think out loud. I contemplate my life. My marriage. My finances. My dogs. My kids. My family.

The other day when I was mowing my lawn, I thought about how I miss my "little" kids running around with reckless abandon. Laughing. Shouting. Happy.

And I thought about my promise to always do what is necessary to guarantee my family the complete, unadulterated happiness that they deserve.

And I realized that I can do nothing.

I am learning that happiness - PURE happiness - comes from within. Although the work can be difficult, draining, painful, and scary, the reward holds a sense of knowledge that there isn't an obstacle that can get in your way. I mean NOTHING. 

Sometimes it takes a miracle. But I KNOW that miracles can happen. I was blessed with five true miracles and I know the power of each.

So pull up your bootstraps, my darling children, and get working on your happiness. Set your compass in that direction and get out there and get 'er done. 

I'll believe in you. I'll hope for you. I'll cry for you. I'll celebrate for you. And I will love you. Endlessly.