An Awakening

The clock said 6:50 a.m.  I had almost made it to the seventh hour of sleep.  A true milestone.

I have been almost sleepless on and off for several months.  There has been so much turmoil over the past year and I took it all in and made it all mine and owned it.  I owned it so much that my initials were carved as deep in all the problems as if I were 13 years old and carving my initials in a tree to show the world that the boy next door was mine forever.

Responsibility.  I have become an expert in finding it and claiming and holding tight to it.  As far as I know I have been in some way responsible for all the major wars in the world, the holocaust, the famine and drought in Africa, the earthquakes in Haiti and Japan, the loss of lives in the middle east, everything that was ever broken or spilled in my mother's home, everything my late husband endured as a child by his brother and mother's abuse, everything my friends have encountered that turned their lives upside down, and every hurtful thing anyone has ever done out of their own insecurities to shove their responsibility on to me.

The chains of guilt and responsibility I bear are equivalent to those of Jacob Marley's chains formed from greed and contempt.  Sadly, there is probably little difference between the two.  Mine are not more nobly worn than the other.  Believing that one is "responsible" for the sadness and discord in others lives is extremely arrogant--and quite reckless.

Looking at the clock this morning, and realizing the hour, I remembered days when I could sleep until 9 or 10 in the morning.  Realistically, I prefer waking at 6:30 or 7 a.m.  I just wanted the reason for waking early to be that I was rested.  That seven hours "is good".  Seven hours "is all the rest I need".  The truth is I have been waking at 3 a.m. and fretting through all the things I have or have not done to "fix" things for people or "fix" circumstances to make life work better for others. This morning though, God's message finally got through to me.  A prayer was answered.  A prayer I have offered up most often at 3 a.m., asking for relief, asking for understanding, asking for guidance...asking for "what the heck is wrong with me that I can't make people happy?!"

Here is what I have painstakingly, at the age of 46, with time to spare--I hope-- finally, sagely, "glory hallelujah", "saints be praised" figured out....Taking Responsibility has meant for me, for most of my life, also meant taking on the guilt of the other person in order make it OK for them.  I stepped up and took Responsibility!  I Owned It!  I Made It Mine....even when it wasn't my guilt, my responsibility.

What does this mean?  It means I finally understand that I am NOT responsible for everything....I am NOT responsible for another's choice to remain stuck in their past and be a victim.  I am NOT responsible to take away the pain in the life of someone that I cared for, but was traveling a much different path.

My responsibilities are to love, care for and raise my two children with all the love and understanding I can possibly bestow.  It IS my responsibility to listen to God for his guidance and to live the life He has designed for me.  It IS my responsibility to teach my children how to listen to God and turn to Him for support and love each day.  It IS my responsibility to honor my father and my mother, as God commands us.  It IS my responsibility to live a life that is honorable and sets an example for my children.  It IS my responsibility to listen for God's guidance so that His plan for my life will unfold each day.  It IS my responsibility to place all of this sense of guilt and burden into God's hands and know that He is in control.  God is governing each and every one of us.

I AM taking responsibility for, stamping my name on, owning in the biggest of ways another "G" word...not guilt, but Gratitude.  Just want to focus on being grateful and for understanding that Responsibility is not synonymous with Guilt.