A time to breathe.

I know that faith based anything, is believing in something that you cannot see or touch.

What if everything you see and touch, feels like it crumbles by your presence?

What if every relationship you invest in ends up being one sided, and feels deflating?

What if when you need a breath more than anything, life presents more challenges, and the burdens outweigh the joy you feel?

There was a time, when all that got me out of bed was faith. Period.

I was heavy, and felt heavy. Every entire thing that I put energy into felt like failure.

Sometimes, when I go through the list I fight back tears to understand how my little spirit could go through so many things and not give up.

There was a time, when even though everything felt like a disaster, I believed in myself. Even though if felt impossible, I made a choice to be kind to others, even when I felt like falling apart.

They say that hindsight is 20/20, and that miraculously those painful experiences make sense.....

I guess choosing to find light in the midst of what feels like failure is a true skill.  One that many people are deprived of.

I often ask myself as I am watching my children struggle through something hard, if I am giving them an opportunity to grow and learn from their experiences.....

My parents are not the rescuing type. During this part of my life, I could not dump my life in their lap and ask for help. They assured me that I was capable of learning and growing from the challenges.  Only in extreme situations did they offer their aid.

And this constantly makes me wonder. I went back to school, got us out of consumer debt, supported my husband in his schooling, (that will absolutely open doors when he graduates,) and was recruited by one of the leading pedagogues in the nation.

It seems almost impossible to believe that I was capable of this, considering my spirit felt like hell for almost five years.

I decided not to complain, not to make excuses, not to take crap from people who wanted to kick me while I was down, and made different choices.

This, in result is the most controversial question I am posed with as I raise my own children:  How much do I let them struggle before I jump in to provide a little assistance, or aid?

You hear the stories about children who fall on the way side and partake in extreme behaviors, and allow theirs lives to fall apart. Their marriages fail. Their depression consumes everyone, and soon addiction controls them as well.  Parents then have to jump in and pay thousands of dollars for rehab.

So, how much of it is in our control? (as parents?)

I don't have parents who rescue me. EVER. Only when I prove to work hard and make great choices do they step in and help....

I am not sure that there is a definitive answer.  What I do know, is that I don't ever want to feel guilt about my parenting. I will take the good I learned from my parents, and add my own understanding of unconditional love where I can. I will provide the very best opportunities when possible, and allow them to learn from their own mistakes. I have had the luxury to learn from my own, and they must embrace their life and learn from theirs.

Faith.