What is the gift we should bring to the world?
Judith Valente,
How to Be: A Monk and a Journalist Reflect on Living & Dying, Purpose & Prayer, Forgiveness & Friendship
Wasn’t I taught that it’s better to give than receive? Didn’t I do my best to teach my children to appreciate the joy that comes through giving? Don’t I remember the quiet delight of watching someone open a special gift I chose for them and saved up to purchase?
And still I am prone to get caught up in the cares of the world that are, in reality, no small things, but that steal my peace to the extent that I focus more on disquiet than what I have to offer.
Isn’t it true that being intentional about what I allow to occupy my mind influences what I have to offer another? Doesn’t the whirlwind of “what if?” and “if only” and “but this” easily overshadow the truth that I have something worthwhile to offer in the midst of it all?
Isn’t it robbery to believe otherwise? To withhold the simple thing I have to offer because of overwhelm?
Isn’t the wiser thing to guard my heart, protect my peace, and look past things that serve to distract from my better work toward that which isn’t on shaky, sinking sand?
Do I believe in my belovedness? My worth as a human being? That I have some small thing to offer every day? A gentle word. A listening ear. A kind gesture.
Does my purpose have more to do with doing laundry, making meals, and participating in supper time conversation than changing the world? Or are those things part of my contribution to changing the world?
Is sitting in my pajamas, warm and cozy under a Sherpa blanket in my den while the rest of the household still sleeps, with one dog asleep on my lap and the other beside me, reading sacred texts and offering whispered prayers, enough?
Is it true that self care is not all that different from creation care?
When does thinking turn into overthinking?
Is there more grey than I thought?
Where is all this leading?
Is love enough?

I took a course from Judith Valente earlier this year, gifted author and thinker.