Tuesday, August 4, 2009

The Pace

I really wish there was a significant caloric burn factor for pacing. The reality is, I would be so skinny.

I'm not referring to the act of simply stepping, or using your feet to measure distance, or even the rate of speed that distance is traveled. I'm referring to the intense ambulatory movements of worried parents, as defined by the last two decades of my life. I've paced waiting for fevers to drop when infants have been sick. I've paced waiting for phone calls to be returned when the clock approaches curfew. I've paced waiting for medical test results about internal hemangiomas and nerve-entwined cholesteatomas. And I'm pacing right now.

It seems like, mathematically speaking, pacing plus waiting is equal to the sum total of worry... or, in my case: 9x(P+w) = W. I would like to think I've evolved into a big enough person who is okay with waiting, okay with being patient, okay with "letting go". But truthfully, I'm not. I have a tough time subscribing to the "c'est la vie" approach to life, and I've never been good at math.

For me, there is a common denominator in circumstances that result in The Pace: I'm impatient waiting to DO something. I'm on the cusp of action, or decision, or just wrapping my head around news that might forever change the direction of my life. And there are the infinite conversations in my head: "How will I word this?" "Should I start making phone calls?" "Who can I ask for prayer?" "When should I call 911?" "What will be the length of punishment and does the garage need to be cleaned out again?" So I pace.

My guess is that this struggle comes from a Life Value of "giving 110%". I wrestle with the issues of parenting because I can't stop caring. Trying my hardest means trying more. Giving my best means surprising myself with what I'm capable of, not giving up, not giving in. My wise mother once told me that marriage is not 50/50, but 100/100, and to fully expect to have to pick up the slack and give more. But no one told me about the math of waiting, and how your heart can be fractured, and divided.

1 comment:

Linda said...

I love your similies...or are they allegories? Anyway, I'm enjoy your writing! Linda