My friend sent a beautiful parable about the strength of women, to our group chat just now. It is an interesting kind of strength that we women have, because often our softness and nurturing hearts, belie our cores of steel, and our hard fast loyalty to our faith and to the mission of our lives.
I think I lost my sanity temporarily on a hike this summer. In a fit of really ugly crying, uncontrollable shaking, and a surge of angry energy that I didn’t know could be held in my body, I tried to explain to my family, the strength that it takes to love a family so much. You love them so much that all you want for each and every one of them, is to experience every amazing adventure and delight that life has to offer, and yet try to balance that, with trying to keep them safe, and whole and innocent and wondrous. I have always told my four children that they are my heart, walking around on eight legs.
My second son is my daredevil child. He’s the one that started my temporary crack-up this summer, when he decided to jump over a waterfall, despite the many warning signs, posted right by the shore. This son has broken more bones than any of my other children, and he is the only child to have been pulled over for speeding in his car. He is the one that was always creating crazy skateboard ramps, or icy sledding moguls, or crashing his bike, even with warnings that he was headed for disaster. My second son has been skydiving and has traveled far distances without us, with a cocky air, that tries to portray that adventures are nothing more to him, than breathing. He’s also the one who always forgets to call, to let us know that he is safe. My second son is brilliant young man with a heart of gold, who dreams of becoming a doctor. He is headed to South America next week to be part of a medical mission. And I am extremely proud, vicariously excited, hesitantly supportive, and absolutely terrified, all at the same time.
I think that is the amazing, balanced strength of a woman. We have arms that hold those who we love so tight and so close, so that they can’t help but know that they are constantly surrounded by warmth and safety and love. Yet we also use those same arms to gently push those same objects of our love, towards their lives’ adventures, with confident, reassuring pats on the back, that all is going to be wondrous and whole. I think that it is amazingly strong to be able to hold and to let go, all at the same time.