hiding

I don’t think I’ve ever loved hide and seek.

I mean I think I should probably love it. There are expected outcomes. 50/50 you’re going to be found.

My kids, on the other hand, love hide and seek. When we are looking at houses to stay at during travel they often comment, “Oh that looks like it would be great for hide and seek-let’s stay there.”

They are looking for closets, lots of nooks and crannies, yards, multiple levels, and unexplored forests.

When we thought about our European adventure one of our goals was to remove our normal comforts. We knew this would facilitate growth in all of us. What I didn’t know is that stripping away the comforts feels less like neatly folding up that cozy blanket to store it away for a time and more like surgery-without anesthesia.

We have already had so many great moments; times when we’ve seen our kids overcome fears of new things and overcome the sting of missing home. Beautiful, memory-making moments at the Eiffel tower, swimming at the Louvre fountains, walking through Buckingham Palace counting clocks, or finding the secret gluten free Italian restaurant far off the beaten path in London. No struggle mutes the beautiful colors these memories are painted with.

But in the secret moments. The moment just as I wake up and remember I might not be enough for all that is required of me today. Or the moment in the middle of the night when instead of sleeping, I replay all I could have done better. Or the moments when the tears won’t stop flowing.  These moments threaten to take me under and block the joy that is waiting for me. The joy that is promised to be new every morning.  

So, I hide. Or at least that is what I have always done. I hide in the silence. I hide behind “no, nothing is wrong, I just need a minute.” If at all possible, I hide the emotion away-not to be dealt with later, but to go away. Or at least I wish it would.

But here is what I have discovered so far…

It doesn’t go away. There is no hiding. Not from Nick or the kids, and not from myself.

Years of trying to hide has led to this.

An outpouring of emotions that are “ready or not, here I come.”

So maybe I’ll go ahead and come out of that hiding spot. The one where everyone knows where you are, but you stand there anyway with your toes poking out from under the curtains, pretending no one can see you.

After all, there is beauty in the uncovering.

There is good pain in the exercise of vulnerability.

There has to be comfort in being known by others and myself.

Joy in coming out of the dark place.

Freedom in remembering I was never meant to be the perfect mom or wife.

Ready or not-here I come.

Emotions. Limitations. Tears. Joys. Freedom.

It’s all comin’ with me.