I still hate piñatas.

Have I ever told you how much I HATE piñatas....yes those cardboard, candy-filled things you swing blindly at, at birthday parties.... Well I hate them and still sense immediate panic if I see one even now. Something about getting bulldozed over one two many times as a party goer, by candy hungry savage fellow grade schoolers, who could care less about the unsteady kid in the mix.....

So yeah I HATE piñatas and totally deprived my offspring of such joys...

For months now I've felt...well like a piñata...

Swinging wildly, getting whacked with one thing or another or another.... Struggle...hurt...struggle...hurt...struggle.

Unexpected. Deeply personal. Private. Difficult. Embarrassing. And because of that all my usual coping strategies...writing, talking to a dear friend, hilarious passive-aggressive Instagram posts...just weren't an option.

Tears. Sorrow. Frustration. Confusion. Hurt.

So many things all at once, I simply couldn't catch my breath... I could feel my courage draining and my faith leaving, that actually scared me...prayers lost as things got so much harder, are you kidding me???

Why???

I spent  months, knowing that no one knew how much I was really hurting.

I felt powerless at the mercy of others choices, anger, and hurt.

"I didn't let all this happen at once to punish you, Robin. I needed to show you the depth of [their] struggle, so you could know best how to love and serve them."

The thought fluttered through my mind and in that moment emotions that had raged for weeks in my troubled heart settled just long enough that I could feel with clarity the purpose behind the chaos.

You needed to know the depth of the struggle, so you can know how to serve them...my answer.

I feel exhausted, but I feel more courage than I've felt in a very long time, to continue trying and that these experiences haven't been in vain.

But I still hate piñatas.