Breaking the Silence
I never meant to disappear from this space. Some days, weeks, and months, silence feels easier. I wonder if my story is worth telling. I doubt that I have anything to say that hasn't already been said a thousand different ways. The longer silence exits, the harder it is to break.
Today, I'm determined to simply break the silence.
I could tell you about Vienna turning two. She blew out her candles like a pro and I started singing "Happy Birthday" like every embarrassing mom should. Amid the clapping and cheering, my heart whispered, "You made it. You survived." Postpartum depression is real. But healing, and laughter are real too. My first two years of motherhood were extremely black. Today, I feel hope and I'm endlessly grateful. I hope that someday I will have the strength to share the hard parts of my story. For today, all I can say is "God is good."
That reminds me of another story I could tell you. My chorus went to New York City last weekend. We gave a program at the Bowery Mission. We filed onto the stage and a man stood up to introduce us. What he said before the introduction will stay with me a long time. The chapel was filled with the homeless and hungry. Some lugged suitcases with them to their seats. Others kept their hoods up and sunglasses on, desperate to hide from an angry world. But when that man stood up and said "God is good," they immediately replied, "All the time." Then he said, "All the time," and they shouted back, "God is good!" It was obvious they started every single service this way. I stood there humbled and awed. I went there thinking we would bless them. In those first minutes, their attitude blessed me in the most unexpected way. If they can say without a doubt that God is good while living on the streets of New York City, how much more should my life be testifying of his goodness?
There, the silence is broken. I'm going to sign off now and read a story to my toddler. I'll do my best to show up again before two more months have passed. Goodbye for now, friends.
Today, I'm determined to simply break the silence.
I could tell you about Vienna turning two. She blew out her candles like a pro and I started singing "Happy Birthday" like every embarrassing mom should. Amid the clapping and cheering, my heart whispered, "You made it. You survived." Postpartum depression is real. But healing, and laughter are real too. My first two years of motherhood were extremely black. Today, I feel hope and I'm endlessly grateful. I hope that someday I will have the strength to share the hard parts of my story. For today, all I can say is "God is good."
That reminds me of another story I could tell you. My chorus went to New York City last weekend. We gave a program at the Bowery Mission. We filed onto the stage and a man stood up to introduce us. What he said before the introduction will stay with me a long time. The chapel was filled with the homeless and hungry. Some lugged suitcases with them to their seats. Others kept their hoods up and sunglasses on, desperate to hide from an angry world. But when that man stood up and said "God is good," they immediately replied, "All the time." Then he said, "All the time," and they shouted back, "God is good!" It was obvious they started every single service this way. I stood there humbled and awed. I went there thinking we would bless them. In those first minutes, their attitude blessed me in the most unexpected way. If they can say without a doubt that God is good while living on the streets of New York City, how much more should my life be testifying of his goodness?
There, the silence is broken. I'm going to sign off now and read a story to my toddler. I'll do my best to show up again before two more months have passed. Goodbye for now, friends.
I enjoy your blog, keep it up!
ReplyDeleteThanks so much for your encouragement! It means a lot 😊
DeleteI love when I see that there is another post from you, so please keep up the good work! :) Blessings to you... Wanda
ReplyDeleteYou are brave to write this but thank you!
ReplyDeleteI know a little bit about postpartum depression and momming being harder than I thought and harder than some people appear to make it look. I do not just love always being surrounded with my daughter; I do not necessarily thrive on always being a mom and being needed. But I love my daughter. Very much. And I know you do too!
Keep writing!
Louella
Thank you Geneva! I check your blog fairly often, eager to see if there is another post. I really enjoy your writing!
ReplyDeleteLucia