This woman. She is so hard on herself. She replays all the ways she messes up, overthinking how she should or could have done things differently. How she needed to have said it differently.
She is so tired. She is so alone. She is unseen by most. She is heavy laden and has no one to offload the burden to. Ever. No one to pass the torch to for just a little while.
She is in need of rest.
She is in need of comfort. Steadiness.
She is in need of sleep and peace and safety.
She is weary. She is exhausted.
This woman stands brave in the face of fear that threatens to freeze her. This woman keeps going when the odds continue to stack up. This woman keeps going when she wants to give up. This woman rebuilds from broken pieces, over and over and over.
This woman loves so, so hard the ones who are fortunate enough to be given a piece of her. This woman stands up for those she has taken under her strong wings. Never giving up on her love for them. Her steadiness her biggest strength. Or maybe it is her great capacity for love. Both make up part of who she is.
She would die for the few who are her world. No questions asked.
She is learning. She is growing. She is messing up.
She needs to be as gentle on herself as she is with the ones she loves. She is told this from the few who look deep enough to see that she is not this at all to herself. She is ample in her giving of grace but can’t seem to find it for herself. She needs to allow herself rest even though it feels unrealistic to even imagine that. How can she rest while carrying everything alone? Perhaps one day.
This woman. She is becoming, and maybe, just maybe, that is the most beautiful thing of all.