Twenty Years

The connection was cosmic. It was as though God had specifically designed us for each other. Maybe He did. We loved every bit of each other, and accepted each other’s imperfections.
My baggage we more obvious than yours. I carried it proudly on my back like an over prepared hiker headed for a long journey. You tried to carry it for me, I was stingy. You offered to help me let go of the unnecessary, I insisted I needed it. You patiently waited, walked beside me while I whined about how heavy my load was, and allowed me to decide when to put it down.
Children were born. We found ourselves blind and wandering in a land between what we were told to be and what we felt we were created to be. We made mistakes with our kids and with our friends and with each other. We learned forgiveness. We experienced grace. We begin to practice mercy.
Twenty years have passed. We sit on the front porch, coffee in hand, and watch the fog roll away off the fields as the sun rises. We turned our lives upside down, traded it all in for a new life in an old place. A place where we could start again, a ‘take-two’ on the scene, where we live loyal to our God and His plan.
 
{This post is a participation in Daily Post’s daily prompt. Today’s prompt can be found hereIn keeping with my goal of writing 15 minutes each day, I have only allowed myself 15 minutes of free writing. }
 

Just try

I always wanted to try.
I couldn’t stay after school.
It wasn’t a class that led to a profitable career.
I should have started in high school, so it’s too late now.
I should have done it in college, so it’s really too late now.
My daughter always wanted to try.
She’s a homeschooler, not many options around.
*keeps looking*
I’ll give it one last try, in this new town, maybe someone will let her try here.
In a blink, we both tried. Clueless, and terrified, we tried. Way beyond our comfort zone, we tried.
Man, let me just say, it’s everything I always wanted it to be.


 
*images from 246 The Main, community theater in Brookneal, VA. Hunchback of Notre Dame and Catch Me If You Can.

I don’t believe you

{This post is a participation in Daily Post’s daily prompt. Today’s prompt can be found hereIn keeping with my goal of writing 15 minutes each day, I have only allowed myself 15 minutes of free writing. }

Please don’t say I’m good, I won’t believe you.

Part of me will want to, and maybe part of me, deep down, will think maybe it’s true. Still, I won’t fully believe you. It will be hard for me to accept it. I will politely say “thank you” and on the inside I’ll be thinking “boy, you have them fooled.”

My self esteem is fine. I do, in general, think I am good at things. My fear, unfortunately, is great. My fear that at some point, some day, some one will call me out and say “you’re not good! You just got lucky! Look at all these other people better at this than you!”

I fear that by declaring out loud and into the world that I am good at something {seriously, anything, pick a skill here folks} that I will immediately discover that I was wrong, and in declaring something so obviously untrue, I will prove myself a fraud. The humiliation would be devastating.

Instead, I just try my best and pray that it was enough. I am humbled by opportunities that arise from others thinking I am good enough to be asked. I will hide my face and say thank you when compliments are given. I will hope that one day, without fear, I will believe you when you say “good job”.

The One Thing I Know About Life

{I decided this week that I wanted to try and devote 15 minutes each day to writing. I posted a request on my Facebook Page, asking for writing prompts. My friend Sherrin suggested this post. 15 minutes…and go…}
The one thing I know about life is that I am worthy. I am worthy of a life, a good life, a happy life. I am worthy of being given a chance to care, to love, to learn, to try, to take on challenges and fail, and to take on challenges and succeed. I don’t deserve anything, but I am worthy of the opportunity to work hard and move forward.
I spent years of my life feeling unworthy. Not good enough to be considered for the team. Not experienced enough to audition for the part. Not naturally talented enough to try a new skill or learn a new thing.
My God designed me, personally, and created me, and He has a plan for me and HE has determined that I am worthy of this life and so He gave me this life and I have His full permission to live and grow and love this life to my fullest ability. I am not worthy of His forgiveness when I falter and succumb to selfish desire or self doubt or anger. He knew I would never be worthy of that, so He sent His Son. Through His Son, Jesus Christ, I am gifted forgiveness.
Guess what?
He made you, too. He designed you, created you, put you on Earth as a living, breathing child of God, and He knows you are worthy, too.
Go out, my friends, and live knowing you are worthy of the life force you have been given. Learn, grow, try something new, change, care for others, set boundaries with some, love all and accept their love in return. Because, you are worth it.