I'm feeling trust-y.

A few months ago I was a panelist at a women's luncheon featuring women in business who were leading from a position other than the C-suite. If you, like me, aren't aware of what the C-suite means, it's the suite of offices in a business that house the CEO, COO, CFO, and other important, accomplished leaders. 

I didn't even know what C-suite meant, so perhaps I did fit in well on the panel. I work for a non-profit nature center, am a blogger, and in general lead by getting dirty in the thick of the work - whatever that work might be. 

The luncheon was somewhat uncomfortable for me. I didn't feel like I belonged on the panel, let alone in the room with hundreds of other women in business. Many, if not most, were much more accomplished than me and could speak of their experiences doing hard work to contribute in their industry. 

Here I was, nervously picking at my lunch while the keynote speaker dazzled the audience. A new friend, Nancy, was sitting beside me, and as her lunch was placed in front of her she inquired to the young waitress if her entree was, as requested, gluten-free. The waitress didn't miss a beat, quickly said yes, and moved on to the next table. The response was so fast that Nancy and I looked at each other with expressions of doubt. 

"You must be feeling risky," I said. 

My beautiful, wise new friend said, "No, I am feeling trust-y."


All the doubt of feeling like I belonged at the luncheon, what I would say to make an impact on the group, all of it: Gone. Faded in into the background. 

"I am feeling trust-y." 

What does it take to feel trust-y? Oh, goodness. It takes so much. So much energy and thought, and at the same time the abandonment of thought and use of instinct. 


I, too, choose to be trust-y. 

I trust that this little cabin will meet our needs, day-after-day and year-after-year. I trust in the satisfaction I feel at having enough, doing enough, and being enough. 

I trust in the simple, satisfying life my husband and I built. All glory to God.

I trust that He will continue to shape and move our lives on the path He has set for us. He trusts us to work out the details.

I trust the companions, human and animal, that are by my side. These companions will help fill the empty corners of my soul. Those corners are where the anxiety and sadness hides. The bulk of my soul work depends on me. I trust my companions to call for me, grab my hand, and pull me along. I trust them to "sing the song of my heart when I have forgotten the words."

I trust our small homestead to feed us, nourish us, and nourish others.

I trust my instincts. I trust my ability to reason, calculate, and move forward. I trust John. I trust his motives, his ideas, his joyful spirit.

I trust this Earth, even though she doesn't trust us. We've done so much to betray her, that she is understandably skeptical. I trust that I have the confidence to say NO, or even YES, when tough decisions about environmental stewardship come my way. I trust that I have the words - close by, on the mere tip of my tongue - to inspire others to also steward our Mother Earth.

I trust that all I need is all I have.

I trust the woman I have become, all thanks and glory to God, whether I am a mother or not. I trust my body.

I am feeling trust-y. 


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