Daring is not a word I associate with myself, with my life, my quiet life of wifehood and mothering and homemaking and writing a little. I dared. . . sounds like skydiving or moving to Paris or arguing before the Supreme Court.
But then I read Amanda’s wonderful list of what she has dared. And I find I have dared, too. Born into a home all about anger and blame and secrets, I’ve embraced grace and truth. I’ve said yes to a life fueled by love and hope rather than hate, distrust and disappointment. I’ve looked into my husband’s eyes and found myself beautiful in them. I’ve given these eyes that can’t see so well a lens. I’ve parented myself sometimes alongside my children. I’ve made beauty for its own sake, no price tag, no profit. I’ve dared, I do dare, I will dare to claim a small life well-lived.
I’ve dared to believe where I”m from is just one chapter. It isn’t where I live or where I’m going. I dared…
joining, at least for today,
found via The Habit of Being