All in Family

I believe it to be extraordinarily unlikely that there is a god. If there is a god, or many gods, or any form of more-evolved or supernatural being, then I believe he/she/it/they are unlikely to be concerned with our existence, our problems, our hopes, our dreams.

Encouraging me to carry on the family name or tell me how much I’d love making a human that exhibits mental, physical, and emotional traits of my husband and I in a sweetly blended bundle of DNA is not going to change my mind. Telling me my husband and I would make great parents isn’t going to do it either. I don’t doubt I’d make a wonderful mother if I had a child, but I don’t need to find out. And it’s not going to make your life any different if you never find out either.

Everything we are doing - the mundane work to pay the bills paired with the risks of business ownership and creative writing with the intent to publish - is to get us back to life on the road, in a constant state of travel. I'm learning that the plan sometimes requires stillness and dedication, where risky meets routine dressed in slacks and button-ups, so you can achieve a shared goal.

When I was working at a church, I felt like people were only my friend because of what I did. Real or imagined, that was my perception of the kindness and attention I received. The value I had was derived from how well I performed and how great a result I could manufacture. People would extend more praise when I did what they wanted. So I did what they wanted. I gave and gave until I ran dry; my spiritual bank account read zero and I was emotionally bankrupt.

I am a slave to outside opinion; I want to manage reactions and make sure I am well-rounded enough to please everyone. I know this is an impossible feat, and yet, I give in to this fear often. I was tempted to ask Zac if we could scrap the entire thing and do it again.