Assignment: On day four, you wrote a post about losing something. Today, write about finding something. Twist: View day four’s post and today’s installments in a series.
The loss of the circular, yellow gold bracelet with the horseshoe shaped hook, my sister W’s graduation gift to me, still triggers sadness. I am still grasping the hope that I will find it one day.
But before I lost my sister’s gift, I had lost something even more precious – the courage and daring I had as a child. My poem, “Becoming Me,” written decades ago, was both a description of the loss, a resolution, and a promise I made to myself.
I like the me I was as a child
Or at least the me I can remember
The one my siblings describe
Fearless, out spoken
Never backing down from a challenge or a fight
Climbing trees because I wanted to
Feeling my mother’s pride
When did I become afraid?
Earthbound, avoiding conflict?
Unsure of my place in the world?
Wanting but never asking?
I miss that little girl
I can become the woman of whom she would be proud
Several years passed before the process of becoming the woman my little girl self would be proud of, was initiated. And its birthing was not an easy one. It was birthed through the womb of a betrayal, one made all the more devastating because it came at the hands of someone in my most intimate of circles.
The lesson was clear – living cautiously is and will never be an adequate shield against pain. Pain is a part of life. There is no hiding place secure enough against it. There is a place for caution and thoughtful decision making; however, being cautious in an attempt to live a risk free life, is like carrying a wooden shield into battle when the enemy has a steel tipped spear, or worse, an assault rifle. Ineffective.
Lesson learned, the wound still healing, aftershocks still being felt, I began and continue the process of rediscovering my courage and living brave. It is not a process I am engaging in alone. I am, with gratitude, doing so with the help of faith, family, and friends.