Lean In
“Lean in,” I heard. It was a simple, quiet statement. I knew what it meant instantly and it scared me. It meant:
\ Stretching a little farther in embracing (even the idea of) joy and hope for the future.
\ Releasing more fear that the bottom might drop out. Again.
\ Trusting that the worst is behind and the best is yet unfolding.
Lean in. Drink deep…
When I Grow Up
Our room faced the backyard and gave a wide-windowed view of a pomegranate tree they’d had for decades - bare, stripped-down limbs devoid of any fruit, flower, or leaf. It was the end of October, smack dab in the middle of fall, and the barrenness of that tree would go on to mock my own every single morning for months…