Juggling

The juggling act I’m in is not always excruciating. Sometimes, after an especially rough time, like the combined sickness of my son with a horrendously difficult week at work, the “normal” juggling act will seem effortless by comparison. There can be weeks on end after a time like that where I’m thinking, “Hey, this isn’t so hard. What’s the big deal?” Inevitably, though, I stumble. A ball falls. I get tired and want to set something down and realize that I can’t. It’s alternately painful and…okay.

I continually practice surrender to the reality that juggling needs to happen right now. While I can’t deny that juggling is hard work, if I actually resist it or deny it, it becomes unbearable. The only way to really deny juggling is to put the balls down or let just one go completely. And that is a formula for psychosis or child abuse or destitution or a combination of them all. So keeping the balls going just well enough is my job for today.