Written by: Brittany Calavitta. Mother to Judah. Wife to David. Writer of Live in the Longing Blog. Genuinely a wonderful human being. Very stylish. Follow her on instagram or go directly to her blog.
My village had resisted growth for months, and I began to feel it. I remember the progression, when the deep ache in my back from bouncing and rocking and swaying our fussy little boy shifted course. It moved in an upward trajectory -- achy back, knotted shoulders, tired mind.
But it’s the tired mind that got me. It’s the tired mind that left me with a lifeless soul and an empty heart. It’s the tired mind that prompted “the talk” right there in the middle of our living room one weekday afternoon.
“I can’t do it all,” I said to my husband with exhaustion nipping away at my body. My days had become consumed with doing and helping and moving. I had become quite masterful at it, really -- divvying up my time to everyone but myself. But I didn’t know, you see. I didn’t know the enormous weight motherhood could amass on a soul. So, I tried to do it all -- every diaper change, every bath, every soothing lullaby at 2 a.m.
… And then I tried to do more. When our tired little boy slept, well, that’s when the piles would haunt me -- the pile of emails that were incessantly accumulating, the pile of dishes that were resting dormant in the sink, the pile of requests that hindered my wakeful moments of peace. Busy had overtaken my personal rest and renewal.
And that’s when he said, “let me in.”
I knew what he meant. Because somehow along the way, I had come to the conclusion that I had to carry it all. My village had become a desolate wasteland full of tasks and duties and responsibilities with no one to help carry the load. My village had become me. And that’s where I went wrong.
When you’re falling, you learn things pretty quickly. For me, it took nearly five months to learn two very important lifelong lessons.
Say no to unnecessary things.
Let others in to help.
Because it really does take a village to raise a family. So, dust off that welcome mat and swing that door wide open.
Your village awaits.