I was supposed to accompany Amara to her workshop, which would start at 12:30. On our way there, rains so heavy an umbrella won’t be sufficient to keep one dry poured. We were lucky to be able to flag down a taxi. However, the venue was along a road that easily gets flooded and if the rains don’t stop, I was thinking we could have a hard time going home after the workshop. So I instructed the driver to bring us home instead.
Once home, my mind was torn. That’s another workshop session wasted, part of me regretted my decision. On the other hand, half my mind was focused on the editing work that needs to be done so I can send the content to the layout artists. I hated that the artists were being kinda demanding, seeing we were all volunteers. Weekends were the only time I get respite from a busy workweek, plus I get to be a full-time hands on mom to my daughter.
Well, as the editor, I had to be a little firm with the writers with regard to the deadline, I guess, so as not to deprive the artists the time they need to do their job. Still, I hated it that they were the ones pressuring me. That’s how torn I felt, between my desire to serve and my duty to be a mom.
Day 12 was a rainy Saturday. I thank the Lord for having bed weather after a hot summery holiday season, for a satisfying afternoon nap, for the several times Amara hugged and kissed me and said “I love you, Nanay”, for a task accomplished and that conviction that my prayers will soon be answered.