I never did enjoy playing Mother May I?  How on earth is that game even deemed fair?  One person is chosen to be Mother then basically controls the entire game and the fate of everyone else playing.  Asking one, short player to take three baby steps and the much taller player beside them to take five giant steps—does not give them both a fair shot at reaching the end.  Even when Mother tells you what to do, you still have to respond with “Mother, May I?”  WHAT DO YOU MEAN, “MOTHER, MAY I?!?”  Of course you may!  Mother just told you to!  Why do you now still need permission to advance?  Why do you have to wait for the magical “yes you may” before you can move forward?  I don’t know who invented Mother May I, but I do know that I definitely felt like I was caught in a solid game of it today.

I had tossed and turned all night, wrestling.  And as I sat and told a really good friend what was going on, I could begin to feel my blood just boil!  I was finding myself getting worked up all over again.  I looked at her and said, “Am I being unreasonable?”  As if to say, “Mother, may I?”  Am I allowed to be worked up over this?  It’s like I was seeking permission to follow the directions set out by my own heart.  To which she said, “No, you are not being unreasonable.  You would have every right to be mad.”  As if to say “yes you may” and I was able to move forward in that moment.  She had given me permission to be real.

A little later in the day, I walked up to Honeybaked to join another good friend for lunch.  It had been a couple of weeks since we’d sat down with each other and I felt like there was so much to say, so much to ask.  I sat across from her and she allowed me to just get really honest about where my heart is right now.  I’m pretty sure I dominated our entire conversation, but she let me feel like a really big deal today.  She offered a new perspective and gave me things to consider.  She challenged me to be equally as bold as I moved forward in what’s next.  “I mean, is that even okay to do?”  As if again to ask, “mother, may I?”  She too essentially said, “yes, you may.”  And I was able to move a little further ahead in this day of wrestling.

This evening, I strolled to my car after work, pondering how I was going to approach this whole thing.  I had thrown on the fake smile to everyone I talked to today, outside of these two women.  I drove home; cooked dinner for the family; washed up dishes afterwards; edited the sister’s essay; went to shower before Major Crimes and I stood in my bedroom fighting the tears.  “Lord, I don’t think I’m tough enough for all of this.  Are You sure You meant me?  ‘Cause I’m not sure I can keep holding it all together in the midst of all of this.”  As if to say, “Mother, may I?”  May I just lose it for a minute?  To which, I received the resounding reply:

Yes you may…