This has little to do with pregnancy

A friend wrote this as part of a greater piece today:
I sincerely wish that I had spent more time in my twenties working on my own stuff and less time telling other people what to do with theirs. I wish that I had figured out sooner that my anti-church diatribes were more about my need for healing than they were about the church’s need for reformation. I wish that I had connected advocating for others with my own feelings of voicelessness and powerlessness.

So much of what my friend writes resonates with me and many others who devour her writings. This above paragraph particulary so tonight. Because I lack the history of the pain and abuse that my friend has experienced sometimes I feel unworthy to find such resonance.

These past 5 years or so of my life have seen shifts that I never anticipated. I have had my faith and ideals thrashed and deconstructed only to remain a discombobulated confusion. Slowly, I find that pieces find themselves joining together. I spent a couple years fighting causes and joining protests all the while ignoring the scattered pieces of my existence and soul. I stopped protesting when I realized that I was the ultimate problem. Me, a single human, represents a microcosm of injustice. How can I fight when I haven't examined this tiniest element of world. How can I criticize when I haven't taken a contructive look at myself? I have spent a lot of time feeling selfish and guilty if I so much as want to disconnect from the world momentarily that I might get to the bottom of who I am at the core. But I also know the time and self realization that will be involved and I get intimidated. I've always been full of excuses and lacking in discipline.

Reading my friend's post above reminded a lot of Henri Nouwen's writings. He lived a life of utter self examination and out of that came intense love and social action that subsequently followed.

If we allow ourselves to dissect all the issues in the world down to the smallest particle one will be left only to examine the injustice of their own heart. Until then, I must take on myself each day.

As I contemplate this baby that is coming I evaluate the type of mom I want to be, the values I want to instill, the example I want to lead. I want every action I make to be intentional, every choice I decide to come with a researched reason leading up to that definitive moment. I want this baby to learn self examination. At the end of the day I can either tune out my soul by escaping to the wretched stone (T.V.) or I can succumb to the sound of it scraping at my psyche begging to be heard, scrutinized, and nurtured.