If you had told me when my husband died that four years later I would still be raising these kids on my own, I might have collapsed under the weight of that thought. And yet here I am—still a single mom, still handling all the daily and weekly and monthly needs of our home, of their education, of our lives, without the help I used to have from my husband and partner in life. And let me just tell you, it’s tough sometimes.
This single parenting thing is a marathon. I have friends who love running, something I hate with a passion. But I love them, so I guess I can make allowances for this quirk. (Ha!) I have heard them talk about training for marathons and half-marathons and about how much of it is in telling yourself you can do just the next stretch in front of you. You don’t focus on the finish line. You focus on the next tree or the next hill or the next visible point ahead.
This marathon has hit a hard spot for me. It’s been a long journey—one that I never planned to take. From the start I have chosen to trust God and he has not failed me yet. He has provided in amazing ways for my financial needs, my emotional support, and wisdom as a mom. But that doesn’t change the fact that this is hard and sometimes it feels like too much.
Sometimes I don’t want to tell anyone I’m struggling. I want to show the brave, strong woman boldly tackling everything. I want to be the Pinterest-worthy mama. And, to some people, it’s not safe to show anything else. They won’t offer support but instead pronounce judgement on what I’m doing wrong.