The other day I happened to glance down and noticed my jeans
faded at the knee.
Old jeans or poorly made these were not, yet the fade was unmistakable.
at the sight and I ran to grab my camera.
Five or six shots later I had captured it in full and my heart
settled down to ponder once more.
This gift I had been given at such a time of year is one that will not go
slip away in fear.
Long has my heart battled with fear and unrest over the quality of my work,
striving to be more than just the societal norm.
Late at night I can be found far down some bunny trail of how I
could have or
done it differently.
Next time I vow, next time.
You see, I fear the legacy I leave behind will be misunderstood
and fall short of future expectations.
And always do I wonder,
what if I were to leave them tomorrow.
How will they remember our time together?
So these faded knees of mine are a testament and a gift.
They will be put aside when this chapter is done,
alongside those lovely torn edges of beloved books of times past.
As a reminder they will serve to settle my heart when the fears of uncertainty
creep in to rob me of my joy.
They testify that yes, sweet sons of mine, I was that mom who
chose to get down on her knees time and time again.
To build towers to the heavens,
crawl into forts too small,
to speak words of love and discipline intimately.
The fading is a badge that this choice of mine
has brought me to my knees and for that
my heart soars.