I am okay with being commonplace. It is more sustainable than aspiring to be amazing, which I will confess to having achieved for fluttering moments. Giving birth was nine of them, though only in comparison to the ribbon of a lifetime can labor be considered a moment. Putting on a children's program years ago qualifies, as do the thirteen marriage conferences John and I crafted.

 

Yet even those instances are a facade, because they were the culmination of efforts by throngs of people. Yes, I did lots of cajoling and pointing, but the people who ran workshops and painted t-shirts with children and served spaghetti were the legitimately stellar ones. I just offered a platform on which to shine.

 

Neither am I wholly comfortable patting myself on the back for nine births, because the body that was infused with deep wisdom took over while I watched. And yelled. 

 

But plain is my home turf. Write this story. Listen to this friend. Serve pie. Clear the dish. The string of events that comprise a lifetime are themselves as pretty and also plain as a bead. The miracle is when those bits of beauty are strung together into a necklace. 

 

 

"Every split second of our life carries with it a series of consequences that continues forever." Secrets of Heaven 3854, Emanuel Swedenborg