I was sitting on the beach in Mexico two years ago when a guy passed by with a display of bracelets. They were bracelets with names woven on them in every color you could imagine, but the bright sun and the salty air had mellowed the colors and former neon pinks and bright greens now rested in muted states of pastel. I decided I'd like a bracelet and chose my colors. Navy blue with rainbow letters. 'What name do you want on the bracelet?' he asked. 'I can have anything I want?' I asked, assuming there were parameters. 'any name you want, it's your choice' he said.
I sat for a moment. And then I knew. I needed the name of the thing I was always forgetting. I needed it woven and woven and woven again on the tapestry of my being so that I could remember over and over and over again that I am (and was and will be) exactly where I need to be. 'Trust.' I said with sureness. 'Trust?' he asked handing me a pen and a scrap of paper to write it out for him.
T-R-U-S-T 'Trust.' I said out loud. 'Trust.' he repeated back to me. 'Trust.' we said together.
And in 15 minutes he was back tying my bracelet on to my wrist- it was crisp and the colors were bright and it was new and hadn't learned it's shape around my wrist.
I haven't taken this bracelet off. It's colors, like the display, have settled down into faded versions of themselves. As if the words have been working and working and working becoming more tired each time they remind me to re-member who I am. This bracelet has been rain stained, tear stained, soaked in springs, cleaned in the moonlight, toasted in the sunshine, it's been on the wrist of my own arms as I've held myself and as I've been held. It's been on the swollen arms that held my baby for the first time and on the hands that have held tight onto Jake's in times of fear, pain, joy and pure love. This bracelet has been there through the growth and the stretching and the becoming, All the while whispering, trust. Trust. Trust. (Post 3 of 3 continued on my feed)