Universally Dependent

The railway once traveled through the neighborhood I grew up in.

Some visible tracks still exist.

As a young girl, the tracks terrified me. For months I had the same nightmare. The train is coming. I can hear the engine, smell the smoke, and hear the driver yell his warning. The train is coming and will not stop. Demolished houses and one very scared girl who can't find her mommy were always the result of this unstoppable train.

Every night I prayed very intently that the engineers of the train would be notified of our existence and change course.

For months I slept in my parent's room desperately holding on to my mother's arm in hopes that my dream would end differently.

Finally I outgrew that dream.

Just two nights ago my four-year-old awoke with a deafening scream.


The nightmares have started.


As I held him in my arms we both prayed that the "scaries" would leave, that his blanket would stop turning into a monster with eyes, and that peace and love to replace his fear.

Trusting that his prayer would be answered he rolled over onto his stomach and slept.

His unwavering child-like faith inspires me.

Sometimes I find myself believing that my sole responsibility is to teach my kids.

Sometimes I fail to recognize that the greatest blessings of motherhood
is the opportunity to learn from and listen to my kids.

I often find myself in that same old rut. The rut that has me wondering how many times I need to repeat myself before someone will listen or the rut that contains plain and pure exhaustion.

I wonder how it is that I will ever teach my kids everything they need to know.

Then the moments come. The moments in which my kids teach me by their example -- reminding me with their innate ability to love, readiness to forgive, and their child-like wisdom.

There are three little parts of me that have emerged and formed their own identities. With them they brought their own innate gifts wrapped in their own individual package that was formed inside of me. While their mannerisms and appearance differ from my own, they were once me.

The lessons they have come to teach me are specifically designed for me - patience, love, compassion, playfulness, creativity, forgiveness, and trust. We are universally dependent upon each other for our growth and maturity.


Will I slow down to learn? Or will I barrel through a canyon like an unyielding train unaware to the change of destination due to my inability to listen and learn?

I want to voluntarily receive the message to slow down, listen, and learn.