I wasn’t built to withstand any of this. To be honest, the foundation was probably cracked before the earthquake came. And if we name earthquakes like we name hurricanes, his name was Maurice. I was expecting him to do minimal damage, if any. But he almost tore the entire temple down. I had to make shelter from the rubble because I wasn’t the only one I had to house. Imagine begging an earthquake to stay. But, naturally, its only reply is eerie silence. Imagine trying to repair the damage with a baby blooming in your womb. All I felt was doom. Overwhelming defeat. This kid was going to grow up without a father and who was I to raise it? Clearly I made bad choices. Not to mention, I have depression and anxiety. But motherhood would become my reality and it would come two months and two days too early. Another shock to the temple still on shaky ground. But somehow I found the strength to hold on. I think it was God because I’m not that strong. If 2019 was my destruction, 2020 will be my restoration.
There are still aftershocks. They shake my soul. Rock my resilience. But I keep fixing my temple. Even on days when it’s storming, I’m tinkering. I’m hammering. Rain be pouring from the sky and tears from my eyes, but I’m still going.
Prayers are cement but I wish they would dry like glue. Make this foundation new in no time. Leave no time for people to leave their prints on me. I’m scared of the marks they’ll leave if I let them in too early. I’ve been impatient and I’m trying to make sure mistakes don’t turn into cycles. Don’t need my little one caught up in these bad circles with me.
I wasn’t built to withstand any of this. But I’m still standing. Improvements to come, but in the meantime, I will love this flawed, fragile temple as is.