in the midst of metamorphosis

Trust. This one word stirs up a whirlwind of emotions within me. What is trust, really? I know the definition but what does it mean to me? I was part of a trust experiment a few years ago in which we were supposed to tell others, “I trust you with my cat. I trust you with my wallet. I trust you with my spouse.” I couldn’t do it. I walked out rather than say those words. It would have been a lie, would have been fake. I refuse to be less than my truth, so my defense mechanism is to just walk  run away. (I am working on that. slowly.) On my way out the door though, I realized just how deep my roots of distrust run. I mean, I love our cat but he is a real jerk and I still  couldn’t trust another to care for him! I have trust issues. I admit that. We, as a society, seem to throw that phrase around as our get out of jail free card.  Can you trust me? No, I have trust issues. We justify our lack of trust by pointing out who and when and how our trust has been betrayed an...

This will be a series of posts in which I honor people who have made an impact in my life, both in my past and in my present. I am blessed to still have some of these people in my life; others have left this life for their next one; others are no longer a part of my close circle, yet still made a difference to me. I want to share them with you. I want to honor them. I want them to know how much I love and respect them. The first one is dedicated to my childhood babysitter, Pat B. Growing up, both of my parents worked. This meant that my sister and I went to a babysitter when we were younger. We had a few, but the one that we spent the most time with, and that I remember the most, lived right up the road from us. We were actually neighbors, but being in the country, that meant a cornfield separated us. I recall being there when I was in kindergarten until I was old enough to stay by myself, probably around 12 or 13. I love to reminisce about my time there. It was my home away from ...