I am trusting.

Some lessons take years to learn. This is one of mine.

Pull up a chair. Have your journal ready.

Take a breath before you begin. There is no hurry here.

This poem came from my own journal, written during a time when I was finding my way back to myself. I share it because I suspect you know this feeling too.

Trust and I have had a long, complicated relationship. “Trust the process” were words I heard often, yet took many years to truly understand. And if I’m honest, I’m still challenged by it sometimes.

Read the poem slowly. Let it settle.

Trust

I am a message in a bottle.

Drifting and tossed by the waves

sometimes lost, confused,

joy has escaped me.

I am longing to find calm waters,

to reach the stillness of the shore.

I remember…

I am always tethered to the land,

by the beauty of my inner spirit.

By connectedness with kindred souls.

I am strong, I am confident, my life has meaning.

I am at peace, I am home.

I accept this is part of my journey.

I am trusting.

Grab a cup of tea, find your coziest chair, and open your journal. Take a deep breath.

Is there room in your life right now to allow for trusting the process?

If something surfaces that you’d like to share, I’d love to hear it. Leave a word, a sentence, or whatever feels right in the comments. This is a safe place to land.

Carry the warmth with you.

Warmly, Kathy

A little about me

Hi, I’m Kathy. A guide, a gatherer, a maker of sacred space, and a woman who found her way home to herself after years of putting everyone else first.

For years, I wore many hats at once. Single parent, community manager in a role I was promoted into before I believed I deserved it, event organizer. And later, a family caregiver. Learning all over again how to give without losing myself in the giving. Caring for everyone, in every direction, all at the same time. What I had to learn, slowly and imperfectly, was that I mattered too. What I found on the other side of that, through stillness, creativity, and the women who gathered around my table, became everything I now offer.

There’s a place at the table with your name on it.