This morning while schools and businesses and churches and survivors may have been having a moment of silence or attending a ceremony of remembrance, I was kayaking on a nearby lake with a friend. I am about to be brutally vulnerable here.

Kayaking with a friend may not seem like a big deal to most. But it is for me. Over the past 15 years or so I have become emotionally homebound. I'm sure that's not a real term, but I that is how I can best describe it. Unless I am out doing something with my kids, it is mentally and emotionally easier for me to stay at home, away from social activities, that it is to go out and do something with friends.

You may have invited me somewhere in the past and I've said no. It's not necessarily that I don't want to ... most of the time I do in my heart! You all do such fun things and visit such fabulous places! It's just that I feel like I can't. I can't because I have to catch up on the chores. I can't because the kids need a ride. I can't because I'm afraid to leave my kids. I can't because I need to be close in case something happens. I can't because I worry about every little "what if". I can't because it keeps the peace.

I recognize that this is some form of anxiety. I get that. But it doesn't change the fact that it just is whatever it is.

I am trying harder. I am trying to say yes to more invites and no to my insecurities. I am trying to say yes to my God-given desires and no to the voice inside me that tells me I'm not worth enough to have joy. I am trying to say yes to showing my kids that we're all going to be OK - separate apart or together - and no to the fear that has held me hostage for so long.

I am a long way from where I want to be. But today, on this day of remembrance, I remember from where I have come. And right now I am where I need to be. So, please be patient with me ... God isn't finished with me yet.