I've been thinking about fence lines.
The places we create to mark where one thing ends and another begins.
They can make us feel safe.
They can create order.
They can protect what matters.
But sometimes, the very places meant to protect us become the places where we get caught.
A sleeve snags.
A foot gets stuck.
Something happens just beyond the boundary, and the people who can see it happening cannot quite reach the person who needs help.
That image has stayed with me.
Because I wonder how often we do this in our own lives.
We build boundaries for good reasons.
Sometimes because we learned the hard way that we needed them.
Sometimes because something once felt unsafe.
Sometimes because saying no was the only way we knew how to protect ourselves.
And boundaries can be deeply healthy.
But every once in a while, it may be worth walking the perimeter.
Looking closely.
Asking whether the fence is still doing the job we built it to do.
Or whether there are places where we keep getting caught.
Places where protection has quietly become isolation.
Places where the line is so rigid that the people who love us can see we are struggling, but do not know how to reach us.
Places where we can see what we need on the other side, but cannot quite get there ourselves.
Maybe the work is not always to tear the fence down.
Maybe it is to repair what is broken.
Move what is misplaced.
Create an opening where one is needed.
Build a gate.
There is a difference between a boundary and a barrier.
One helps us stay connected to ourselves.
The other can keep us disconnected from everything else.
So maybe this week, it is worth asking:
Where do I need stronger boundaries?
And where might I need an opening?
Because coming home to ourselves is not about living without walls.
It is about becoming more intentional about what we build.
What we keep out.
What we allow in.
And making sure the things we built to keep us safe are not keeping us from being reached.