8/18/2022
I do this every single year-doubling over choices. Whether the choices I make are correct or whether I could have made better choices. What books we read or what curriculum we use or whether I should let this whole writing venture go and give more to my family. I question whether the nudge is from God or if there’s selfishness at the table speaking as well-how the words I leave on a page might be better spoken over the hearts of the hearts directly in front of me.
Then I question why I chose the word selfish to describe these words. Selfish is jealous, jealous of the million ways I hold this responsibility at heart. Jealous at women who seem to live carefree-I must be kidding myself that other women live without responsibility looming deep. Woven in their own ways to hearts. Maybe that’s the jealousy? Maybe it’s the paradox of an earthly walk with a heaven bound soul? That I fret that I’m not woven deep enough into these entrusted hearts, that dna can only embed so deep, it’s connection that weaves deepest.
Does my word weaving decrease heart weaving with those I cherish most? That is the question I ponder this week, the weaving of our lives. Because how you weave weaves legacies.
