Ragged Days of Falling Together...

In crafting home-made paper, one has many options and processes to choose from. Being the kind of person I am, less exacting and more impatient to finish than others, I prefer to create ragged edges as compared to the precise and meticulously framed borders that accomplished artists market.

I find that ragged edges bond more seamlessly when I combine two or more paper sections together when making larger pieces from numerous smaller ones. Ragged edges adhere together with more strength, and also bond as though originating as "one," not being able to tell where one section ends and another begins.

It figures that I craft my life in the same ways. I feel much like a ragged person, whose edges are rough and unpredictable with no semblance of order and planning. I never really know what I will do next. Obviously, I accomplish little due to my many distractions and ever-changing interests. I have the attention span of a puppy. Or so it seems to me.

In looking through a Glass Half Full, I can be thankful for my ragged edges, as I have been blessed with a husband who sees my ragged edges as something attractive and exciting... and of late, my ragged edges shook up his world as well as mine for the sake of a life that, all of a sudden, could be cut shorter than we'd like. My husband is a sweet man whose edges were born less ragged than mine, but I'm seeing that he has intentionally been tearing some of his sharp lines, sometimes painfully, to mesh with my own. That is love.

I understand that I am a frustrating muddle of a mess more often than not. He is a man that prefers to know his boundary and the expectations of life. He likes to plan, even though he isn't particular when plans go awry. He just adjusts his boundaries. And such, he is gifing me with this process, so entirely "him." I see, now, that he is adjusting his boundaries often. He thinks about our next moves very carefully, too carefully for me, but he is meticulous and cautious taking a good long time in his decision making. What I failed to see, before, is that this is part of his process to start tearing bits of his comfortable straight edges off, leaving chunks of himself torn wide open baring itself to the elements. That is love.

We have a ways to go, while creating our "bigger piece" but I am seeing our edges beginning to fade one into the other. I recognize our different textures, and colors, still...and may always be able to discern our differences. But there is certainly more blending and bonding being done in these days than we can yet see with our eyes, but can feel in our hearts. I acknowledge the tearing that it has taken, the desire in his heart that keeps him hanging on to this very amateuristic piece of work that is "me"... I am seeing less and less of the "edge" that comes between us, and look forward to the days when we will be truly "one piece." Happy Anniversary, darling. Thanks for letting me be me. That is love.