tonight...

i'm feeling small. 


not in size...or in shape, because, trust me,  i've looked in the mirror.

no.  tonight, i'm feeling...like there isn't much to offer.

i can knit...a dishrag.  not a sweater, not a beautiful hat, not something that is wavy or bulbous or fabulous.  i can knit a square.  or a rectangle if i'm feeling motivated.

i can sew...a simple patchwork.  not a dress.  not a gorgeous handbag or a cutesy...something... or for kicks.

i can bake...but lets face it, one can bake to her hearts content, she can also get quite plump on said baking...so, it's probably not so wise to do so.

i look at all these fabulous things that are made and written about by so many fabulous women around me who also happen to be fabulous mothers with fabulous children and i realize...i have nothing to pass on to my own children.  no skill.  no trade.  no...anything.

i have more brokenness than i do wholeness in my life.

i have more unread books then i do read.

i have more screamed out questions then i do calmly given answers.

i have more unfinished journals than i do finished...which is a lot, because honestly...i buy journals because they are pretty.  my life isn't pretty.  and so when i do write my ugliness into said prettiness i feel as though i've marred it somehow, and i move on to the next one...

in 31 years, i've never finished a journal.

i look at my children, at my husband, at my friends and family and wish...oh i wish i had something better to offer them.  


but i don't.


and tonight i'm overwhelmed with discouragement.