Golden Autumn

The weather has turned, summer, for all practical purposes is over. The sky has been a magical shade of gray, and the trees, gold, plum, crimson. The wind strong enough to shake the leaves loose and send them fluttering and flying through the air, evidence enough for me that the universe is benevolent, bountiful, and powerful. I need to be reminded that I am supported and not in this alone. 

It has been a forceful few weeks, I am being pushed through each day by the things I ought to do, the things I need to do, and having to remind myself, that these things, too, are things I want to do. I also want to feel like I’m doing everything well, and that I can put some order to things, and these are the things that are falling by the wayside. Perhaps that is the lesson. 

I’ve been reading Brene Brown’s newest book, Daring Greatly: How the Courage to Be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent, and Lead. It’s one of those books I have to stop and ponder every few paragraphs through. I wonder, am I daring greatly? Sometimes I think I am. I think that my writing is my daring, that I keep sharing my days and thoughts in hopes that these things matter, in believing that by sharing I make vulnerability visible. I can let others know what it looks like in a world where we are too afraid to even talk about it, let alone look at it. 

I do often feel like I’m stumbling along, like nothing is making sense, and that maybe when I get a book deal, when it’s all put together in a tidy package with a pretty picture on the cover, that then it will make sense. All my work will turn into an accomplishment, instead of just a project I’m working on. One of the things that’s getting through to me is that just by being we are enough. It’s that one day at a time thing, but it’s really one breath at a time, and in each breath, we have to really believe that we are enough. Good enough, lovable enough in our imperfection, we are like the sky, the wind, the leaves, altogether, a breathtaking combination. 

I am reminded then, that I am not my clean (or messy) home, I am not the title after my name, I am not even, in my imperfection of parenting, only valid as a parent, or any other role, but I am valuable because I exist as a part of this amazing, ever changing world.