Constructed Value

A little over a year ago I crossed a threshold. The people surrounding me were both close to my heart and anonymously shared their heart with me. The threshold is one I continue to cross, never alone, always with a grateful heart.

The physical threshold is my Habitat home. The emotional threshold, expressed with hammers, nails, lights, roof, constructed with smiles and generosity, surrounds me with the belief that I am valued. I know there are people who earn more each year from investments given to them than I make a year working at strengthening relationships. I know there are people whose car payments are more than my mortgage. I know there are people walking the streets looking for shelter. I know there are children who are starving while struggling to thrive. I am aware of, yet will never truly understand, the gap between what is valued and needed.

 As I cross my threshold everyday, I give thanks.

For the smile when I lost hope

For the comfort when all I could see was hurt.

For the belief in the promise of my smile.

For the unending message that I am never alone.



One foot in, one foot out.


Stepping into, with ease and grace.

The beauty and fullness of acceptance.

Crossing a threshold, one foot in, one out. Stepping over a reinforced structure, a stronger part of a building. Crossing over to go from one element to another.

Times, when I broke through the illusion of non-acceptance.

Writing postcards to the pope for three years, sharing my prayers for inclusion from a male hierarchy.

Leaving all that was familiar to me because the familiar was unhealthy.

Hearing a friend, with the utmost compassion, tell me I make it difficult for people to thank me.

With the threshold of rites of passage, the community gathers, strengthens, to support the transition. Birth, coming of age, marriage, death, cultivated with the support of the community. I’ve come to experience that even when I cross a threshold alone, I am not alone. I am just not recognizing all the community support surrounding me. I will also never know how often I have helped someone transition to accept their full beauty.