That feeling rises up from the gut. A fullness that tightens bones and organs and reaches my throat like a noose. Things are piling up and toppling over and my hands are far too small to catch it all. I am not big enough for this. I’m not mature enough. I’m not wise enough. I’m not disciplined enough and I don’t have enough. And just when my heart starts pounding he cries from the other room and I have to take a break from my worry to tend to his. Those delicious little arms wrap tight around his Momma’s neck while he forgets his nightmare and softens, whimpers, nuzzles in.…
A fundamentalist turned freedom chaser with an obnoxiously stubborn faith.