Rambling on about moving forward, even when forward looks suspiciously like a three-ring circus and everyone and everything needs you at once…

At some point, usually when we are feeling brave, well-rested, or standing in front of a mirror with dramatic lighting, we make promises to ourselves. Sometimes the promises come in the chaos and darkness as well.

We promise we will never look back. We promise we will keep moving. We promise we will finally put ourselves first, choose what is best for us, protect our peace, drink more water, answer fewer emails after hours, and stop saying yes when our whole spirit is standing there waving a tiny red flag.

And then life, with its excellent timing and questionable manners, walks in carrying a clipboard.

Kids need things. Family needs things. Friends need things. Work needs things. The dog needs something, although nobody is quite sure what. The car makes a noise that sounds expensive. The calendar fills up. Work becomes needy and requires more of us. Suddenly, all those beautiful promises we made to ourselves are sitting in the corner, wearing a sad little party hat, waiting for us to remember them.

The truth is, we do not always break our promises because we are weak. Sometimes we break them because we love people. Sometimes we break them because we are responsible. Sometimes we break them because someone has to make dinner, pay the bill, sit in the waiting room, return the call, show up, hold it together, and keep the boat from sinking while everyone else is asking where the snacks are.

So we console ourselves. We say, “This is just a season.” We say, “I’ll get back to me soon.” We say, “Next week will be calmer,” which is adorable because next week is already outside stretching like an athlete before a race.

We become caretakers, peacekeepers, problem-solvers, calendar-jugglers, professional finders of missing shoes, and emotional support humans for everyone within a ten-mile radius. We wade through challenges and obstacles with our heads barely above water, smiling in public and quietly wondering if anyone else can hear the theme music from Jaws.

But here is the part I am learning… looking back is not always the same as going backward.

Sometimes looking back is how we gather proof. Proof that we survived the thing we thought would flatten us. Proof that we have carried more than we ever believed we could. Proof that even when we stumbled, even when we cried in the car, even when we ate cereal for dinner and called it “self-care,” we kept moving.

I have, for the most part, always managed to keep moving and growing forward. Not perfectly. Not gracefully. Certainly not with matching socks or a big smile every time. But forward, still. And yes, I glance back. I glance back not to punish myself, but to remember what I have already made it through. I look back for motivation, for perspective, and sometimes just to say, “Well, would you look at that? I really did survive.”

Maybe the promise was never meant to be “never look back.” Maybe the better promise is this… look back only long enough to learn, to honor, to forgive, and to remind yourself that you are still here.

Then turn around. Take a breath. Pick up your coffee, your courage, your grocery list, or whatever passes for a plan today. You know what “they say,” We make plans and promises and God laughs…  Well, when I look back, I see Gods hand in the details and I know that the promises I make to myself are markers in life, and my journey, well… it just continues as it should.

And I keep moving… Following my inner voice, my God whisper.