This saying has been rolling off my tongue more often than usual these days, and it’s one we are all so familiar with: Time flies! I find myself believing it and living it more and more lately, and wondering, Is it just one of those things that becomes more true, the more we embrace its truth? All I know is, today I looked up and realized it had been 3 1/2 years since I pressed pause on my writing.
Three and a half years since I shifted my attention from writing and creating, to home and to making our youngest a part of it. Three and a half years since I shut my businesses down, closed the books, and stepped unknowingly into the greatest challenge of my life yet: integrating a complete stranger into our family.
And yes, those years have flown by. And yes, those years have felt long and full and tedious and TOUGH.
Some days and weeks felt longer than I could possibly endure. Some started out so hard, I wanted to crawl right back into bed and just skip the day altogether. Some started with gentle kisses, with hot coffee at the break of dawn, with new routines and renewed hope.
A couple months ago, I stumbled across a beautiful podcast called Mend: Life at the Seams. The title caught my attention because of my own connection with using threads and weaving and tapestries as symbols of what we are all attempting to do in this life. Weaving some love. Threading together some meaning. Creating a tapestry of truth and family and hope.
As I listened to a recent episode on a run last weekend, the host, Amy - with her soothing voice and soulful shares - reminded me just how precious each of our threads are to the overall tapestry. She reminded me that when we weave with love and joy and justice and presence, we never weave in vain.
Her words re-awakened something dormant in me, something I put to rest three years ago. I was reminded of my story, and of yours, and of this humble e-space that has provided a valuable, meaningful platform for us to share them within. I was reminded of why I ever started writing in the first place, and why I spent so many hours making that writing public: Because I knew that even though my thread is tiny and my weaving is flawed, it mattered. I knew that even if only a few people read my words, even if only one person found solace here, that was enough. That was my offering, and it was good.
And so, with no extra fan-fare or grandeur about what’s to come, here I am, writing again. Here I am letting my soul spill out through the keyboard, reflecting on life and parenting and friendship and spirituality, one tap at a time. Here I am, offering myself as only I can, to a world that won’t be the same without me. And I invite you to join me.
What is the thread you stopped weaving because it felt too small or to frail? What is the work you believed in but burnt out on and have never found your way back to? What is the offering that only you can make to this world?
I promise you, you matter. Your weaving matters. Your offering matters. Your words matter.
You matter, and you get to show up as ALL of you today to a world that will never be the same without you. And friend, I will be here plugging away alongside you.
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