Weaved

 Weaved, written by Brie (17 years old)

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The night was coming to a close, and she could feel her body slowing down as it prepared to sleep. She sat upon her bed, an open notebook and pen atop her lap. She picked up the pen and lightly tapped it against her knee, something she did regularly when she was stuck.
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Writer's block, she thought to herself.
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She uncrossed her long legs and stretched them out as she yawned. She leaned back against the sturdy wall behind her and started twisting her blonde hair. Waiting for something inspiring to hit her, she twirled and unraveled golden strands, twisting the ends with her fingers. And then she began to braid. She absentmindedly separated her hair into three sections and started crossing each over the other until a braid was formed.
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Looking at her braid in the mirror across the room from her, she pondered it's simplicity. It was so beautiful, the way the hair weaved in and out, like ripples in a flowing river. She grabbed the end of her braid and thought, My life is like a braid.
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And with that, the pen in her hand burst into life.
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She was entirely made up of thousands - if not millions - of things, but she decided to categorize.
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1. Heart & Soul. Her spirit, her beliefs, and her morals.

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2. Gifts & Flaws. Her intelligence, her talents, and her quirks.

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3. Self-Inflicted & Completely Out Of My Control. Her trials, her hardships, and her heartaches - both internal and external.

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She began to sort the different aspects of her life into these three categories. After several minutes, her body began to grow even more tired. As she set down her pen, she felt satisfied with how her list was ending up.

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She was who she was because of those three categories. She had been weaved, with all the best of intentions, into the person she was today.

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She closed her notebook quietly and set it aside. As she climbed out of her bed, she ran her hand down the braid again and smiled. She knelt down and offered up a prayer of thanks and complete gratitude for who she was and who she was becoming.

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The greatest part of the braid is the elastic that's holding it all in place - she decided this was the partnership of her Father in Heaven and His son, Jesus Christ. Without them, she'd fall apart.

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On the very edge of reality and a dream, she climbed up and fell heavily onto her bed. In no time at all, her heavy eyelids succumbed to sleep.

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My sweet daughter, Brie, is an inspiration to me. She has been blessed with such a wonderful gift - being able to express herself through the written word. I admire her strength  and her willingness to share her love of the gospel.
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Here she is, probably a decade ago, sportin' some pretty cute braids. :) How quickly time moves forward.

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