Limiting Mobility

Today I'm feeling vulnerable as we near the one-year mark of when I was told about my transfer from my school family of fourteen years to our sister school next door. I'm thinking a lot about who I am, where I belong, and what I'm meant to do. I'm also wrestling with the thoughts that get in the way, 

that are limiting my mobility as I bounce forward into the future. 

Ironically, I saw these parking spots when I dropped Joshua off for a French horn lesson this morning. And I laughed. Not because of their literal use, which I find the perfect example of empathy, compassion and kindness for people with physical limitations, but because of the metaphor they represent to me as I reflect more on the emotional challenges this year has brought with it. 

Maybe some of my sometimes reflections will resonate with you.

Sometimes I feel like I'm drowning in a sea of self-doubt.

Sometimes I lack trust and nothing seems to anchor me.

Sometimes my errant beliefs get in my way.

Sometimes my anxiety finds me stuck in the past.

Sometimes my worries find me stressed about the future.

When these sometimes that threaten to limit my mobility happen,

 I think about to this quote by Karen Salmansohn.

Through my struggle, I keep coming back to the gift of a

 sidekick.

That's the friend who checks in on you.

The one who asks how you're doing.

The one who's okay with it if when you start to cry.

The one whose presence says, "You matter to me."

Sidekicks love unconditionally.

They extend grace lavishly and forgive over and over again.

They understand stuff about you

that you may not even understand yourself.

And they accept you for who you are, struggles and all.

So today I'm feeling vulnerable and overwhelmingly grateful

to the sidekicks who have been walking alongside of me this past year,

both literally and figuratively,

ready with a listening ear, a kind text or email, a smile, a hug.

{Even when I don't want a hug. Especially when I don't want a hug!}

For being strong when I'm not.

For telling me that that's okay.

For helping me love what is.

And let go of what no longer is.

For reminding me that there is a Higher Power.

And ensuring that I trust that it's all a part of His plan.

For helping me bloom where I'm planted.

And for seeing limitless possibilities instead of

limited mobility.

To my sidekicks:

You know who you are.

Please know how thankful I am.