Living Life Backward

As I think about my purpose, and who I am, and all of those other deep, philosophical and existential questions, I wonder if I am living my life backward?

People discuss the awkwardness of the middle school years, and trying to be popular and figure out identity, and I think that I knew more about who I was then, than I do now!

I was much more sure of my abilities, and not trying to prove anything to anyone back then.

But now. . .

Now as I approach the threshold of the next decade, I am less sure of my abilities, and more aware that I might need to prove my purpose. 

Insecurities rise quickly, pushing doubt to the front of the line.  As I make my way into new spaces, I wonder if I will ever fit in?  Am I too different? 

I know there are things to be done, fears to be dealt with.  I don't know if I will be able to overcome those fears, but I cannot let them block the path moving forward either.  I have to walk side by side with fear, keeping pace, learning to understand why it is here.  Knowing that with understanding, the fear is less powerful and I am more.  I grow in wisdom, knowledge, strength and courage.

Ready or not, middle school here I come!

Buried

 

Buried

Beneath the calm and the organized

Digging

The way to get others to the daylight

Digging

Deeper into the darkness

Pushing

Travelers one by one into the light

Waiting

For the hand to reach back and lift me

Waiting

For the voice to notice that I am

Buried

Wide Open Spaces

There is just something about them.

Those areas where you can actually see the horizon stretching out in front of you. 
Where the dark vault of the heavens stretches into space.
Where  the sun pauses before it gets tucked under the blanket of the starry night sky.  
Where you can almost see the edge of your existence. 

The Anthem of Springtime

Morning arrives and the dew gathers on the pale, green grass.

Though the chill hangs on to the early hours, and jackets are required for the bus stop, the day begins warmer than it has for the past few months.

School days seem a bit longer as the warmth of the mid morning sun calls one and all to the grassy playground.

Math and reading and science seem less interesting than the swings, or kickball, or anything that lies beyond that large pane of glass...

Where Do I Begin?

I don't remember many exact details of my childhood.

The memories are more sensory pictures with faded edges, dapples of sunlight on the dark, cool grass, and sounds of breezes rustling the leaves, crickets chirping, and stones popping off of automobile tires as they travel past the yard and on down the dirt road, the scent of dark Spring dirt or fresh mown hay from the field behind the house, and the taste of Summer sun warmed tomatoes and green peas right from the garden.
 
These pictures are a compilation of memories, of  Summers blended together in the colorful glass mixing bowl that Grandma kept in her cupboard.  They taste of dust and fresh mown hay, of bacon and tomato sandwiches, macaroni salad and niffles (yes they are a thing) and lettuce with a simple vinegar and sugar dressing.

They travel in a metal picinic basket with a plaid design, to a field where Grandpa is mowing, or plowing, or raking. They run down the dirt road to a wooded spot where the daffodils grow near a small brook.

They play in the tent made of blankets, hung over the clothes line in the back yard.  They sleep under the stars, waking to a dew soaked morning that smells fresh and damp at the same time. 

This is a part of where I begin.  

Glimpses

I sometimes catch glimpses of a life more fulfilled. 

A place where a difference is made, help is given, abilities are used to their fullest, and joy abounds.  

I suppose that place can be anywhere, if I see each day with its own purpose.  

Each day with its own opportunities.  

Each day with its own needs and design.  

Open my eyes...

Words Enough

Are there words enough to share with others

Words enough to keep to myself

Are there words enough to teach my children

Words enough to stack on a shelf

There are words that fly so fast and so furious

Words that rise and fall

Words that are so full of questions and curious

Words that can feel so small

Are there words enough to hold us together

Words that don't tear apart

Are there words enough to make us each better

What is the place we should start