You Go Girl | Early morning musings from a mother of three| Fresno family photographer

A peek into a journal entry from early September. A reminder that we are humans who fall short and struggle with feelings of inadequacy. God put it on my heart to share it with you all.

— It’s morning. A cup of coffee is replaced by hot water and lemon. Sounds of backpacks zippering and blinds being raised fill the air. I stare into the refrigerator, unwilling to accept the fact it’s time to cook. The previous night’s intention of making a full breakfast with all the fixings fade quickly. So eggs and toast it is. The garage door opens, and I muster up the energy to get my hair pulled back and resist the urge to go shoeless. It’s a gorgeous morning. The kind where the light seems soft and welcoming, the birds chirp loudly enough to hear but faint enough not to wake anyone whose day hasn’t had the chance to begin.

The air is a perfect 60-something degrees. It must be April 25th (a wink to all my Chick-flick Movie Buffs.) My mind juggles with the notion of returning indoors to throw on my best morning walk outfit. But the door opens, and one kid fights over who got the best snack for school that day; my shoulders quickly sink, and I reach for the oversized sunglasses. My special superpower. The ones that hide the sleep residue from each corner of my eye and allow others to see me as an “altogether” person. Or so I wholeheartedly believe. Shadows begin to disappear as I reverse, and every inch of my car fills with light. “Don’t miss out,” rumbles in the back of my mind. Then, as I round the corner, there she is. The woman I wish I could be. Her hair and outfit are in perfect shape, and her pace is intertwined with purpose. She’s awake, feeling the air on her skin, perfectly rested and soaking up all those endorphins I desperately need. At any other point of the day, at any other moment, I’d whisper a simple “You go, girl!” Proud of a perfect stranger for clearly crushing it. Instead, insecurity sweeps in at this moment. I grumble and project.

I speed past, reach the designated drop-off point, let my kids out with a forced smile, and look up to now be frustratingly greeted by “them.” The women who get out of the car and walk their kids to class. “I could never,” sweeps through my mind as I look down at the clothes that should resemble pajamas. Instead, they are mismatched pieces, stained and worn, only reserved for the eyes of my family. How? How do they have the energy to put themselves together? Are there sunglasses a superpower too? A complete internal meltdown is underway as I pull out of the driveway.

My mind hardens with each turn of the wheel, and “It isn’t fair” fills each breath of my lungs. Then as quickly as it came, it all disappears. A full and true Mercy from God. “It’s ok; you are ok.” I rest and rewind the last hour of my life. “I’m ok. It’s ok.” I feel the warmth on my cheek again and take stock of my surroundings. It seriously is a beautiful morning. I give myself one last shake and tell myself it’s going to be a great day. I roll down the window the rest of the drive home and pass by “her” again. She’s still perfectly put together, and her pace hasn’t faltered. She has a purpose. “You go, girl,” slips through my lips, and I smile this time. As I reach my garage door, I take the keys out of the ignition and place both feet on the ground. Purposefully I walk towards the open air, lean my head towards the sky and listen.

I am listening to the sounds of morning, to the voice of love and gratitude that is and was God. The air feels so good in my lungs, and my heart feels lighter than when it stood here just minutes before. When I’ve soaked up every drop of goodness, I head back inside, lace up my well-loved tennis shoes and release my bike from the kickstand. A quick 5-minute ride around the block is all I have time for but somehow all I need. I pass by cars parked on the side of the road and purposefully search for my reflection in their windows, and finally, I catch it.

“Ah, there she is… You go, girl.”