'The Feast of Life' by Sheila

At the feast of life I feel as if I have gorged myself whilst others starved. 

 I live in the most beautiful place, I have a wonderful family and a fabulous lifestyle. I have been a mother for 27 years, an autonomous home schooler for 20 years and a foster carer for 10 years. The youngest of my four children will be 16 next week, and I have a very loving relationship with all my family. 

There has been a lot of luck involved of course, but luck is also what you make of it. My husband and I have shouldered crises that would have finished many couples. We are stickers! We have made all our own bread for over 20 years, even taking it on holiday. Perhaps it is the bread that has kept us both so healthy.

Now I stand at the threshold that all parents reach - I am no longer a parent of children. My role of 27 years is drawing to a close, I have space in my agenda. Having had my spirit fed so plentifully for so long I yearn to give something back, to support other families and nurture other children, to share some of the wisdom that I believe I've accumulated. I have written a book and I have been trying to get myself out there, but it's hard. I have a soft underbelly; and I'm scared. How easy it would be to withdraw, claim to have tried and failed. Get on with my luxurious life. But I have spent years gorging myself at the feast of life whilst others have starved and if I don't do something I will be ashamed.

Maybe I could open up my home. I have a spare bedroom and space for campers, I could run courses, or support groups, at the very least I could show people how to bake bread and make peanut butter. If someone with my awareness and good fortune can't give back who can?

Desire and fear course through my veins in equal measure, as Mumford says “If my enemy was bigger than my apathy I could have won!”