The fight inside myself.

There are so many times I wish I was not who I was just because there are times when I feel like I am too nice. When there are times when kids are laughing and pointing and telling their friends to come look at my Gabby Girl. Or when kids imitate Tobi as he walks and flaps his hands. That is when I want to put them in their place but instead I teach my kids to love. To be kind. To treat others the way that they should be treated, to be a voice for those like them and for themselves. Its the times when I go home and cry because my heart hurts too much. Times when the mama heart just does not know how to cope with it all. And then I think of you Jesus. The way you walked on this earth. You saw the broken, and you sought them out. You loved them, you saw them. You didn't see the flashy and the beautiful that walked where people wanted to be them. This is the space I don't know how to occupy. 

The fight, the fight inside myself that doesn't leave room for joy. I am so spent trying to fight for my kids that inside me I forget that I don't actually have to fight myself. I don't have to fight you. I don't have to understand it, I just have to love. To love them, to love others, to love myself. There is a sense of vulnerability in this, I try so hard to protect my heart from pain that I cause pain to myself. I fight so hard to be chosen to be seen and at the end of the the day HE CHOSE ME. simple and enough. yet, the spaces in my head can't hold on to that enough, I want certain people to see me, to want me, to choose me, and the honest truth is that they can't. they never have, and that has to be ok, and I have to find the path that leads to me being of with the fact the HE CHOSE ME. And the funny thing with this all is that you gave me children that I CHOSE. I fought for each and everyone of them. I had to fight through it all to get them. From my Will, to fighting to keep my Tobi alive, to trying it again to get my BRYSON, to fighting the fight of my life to go get my Gabby Girl and to bring her home. I chose them. I want them, so why can I not live my life that I am chosen and I get to choose them. I do it broken and scared. I do it sad, I do it angry, and I do it messy. But I keep coming back, I don't run away the way I want to. The way I want to get in my car and just drive, and drive, and not come back. Then I would be repeating the cycle of not choosing them, choosing myself. Jesus, this is not what you came to this earth for and this is not what you have called me to be and do.