By Carolyn Shields, late night at a cafe
How much one's time is worth has been on my mind a lot lately. How does one measure her worth? In tea cups? By the sound waves of her music, her heart's echoes? The inches and miles of trails she's left across the continent? In her home town?
Our worth and value comes from God alone, but objective reality can be measured...I think. This cup of coffee has more intrinsic value than this crumpled napkin before me. His heart weighs heavier in mine than a pound of dying flowers. Twin Fork's value holds greater gravity in my writing than TSwift's 1989. But can nothing be something? If we have nothing, can we understand our worth even more?
When I peaked up at him at another concert, and we're standing in 'our spot' on the balcony, I doubted that I am worth it. For him. Because if I'm honest in saying he is the sweetest and most beautiful man I've come to know, how could I ever think I'm worthy of him? Wait here while I kick myself off my pedestal. As I drift to sleep, naturally my last thoughts before slumber conjure images of his face, and I too often shock myself by the interior monotone: "You aren't worthy of him."
But womenfolk, at moments like that, who are we comparing ourselves to? To other women or the totally illusioned thoughts in his head that we can only guess at? Take a step back and remember who we should imitate: the Blessed Mother. And she let Him go. The worth of her Son was magnified the moment she nodded her head at Cana for Him to perform his first miracle. When she let go of the reigns.
Last night I found myself on the warm hood of my car again, bundled up, and blanketed over because our Holy knows I'm a damn romantic, and He knows He can easily seduce me with the moon in order to spend time with me.
And that's what was on my mind all weekend. Time & Worth. That's what I reflected on as I tried to decipher the path of the satellites, wondered if I was staring at planets, and unsure if the powder between the broken branches above me was the Milky Way.