Pieces of her

Pieces of her

She found a piece of herself

under the couch last month. 

It was dusty and covered in Cheerio crumbs

but it definitely belonged to her.

It was hard to tell 

but she thinks it might be her sense of adventure.

Last week she opened a box in the attic 

and was shocked to find 

her drive for justice in the box

with her high school yearbooks.

She sets the found pieces

in a box, next to her jewelry. 

She doesn’t think about them again

until she finds a paintbrush

buried in the junk drawer in the bathroom.

Her heart trips over itself

at the sight of a long-lost love.

She used to be known as

the artist. 

It joins the other pieces on her dresser.

The next day, during a long afternoon at work 

she re-discovers her ambition via 

an email search. 

She found it in an email about a business idea

from when she first graduated college.

It is still a good idea. 

She creates a folder titled:

Business Idea

and moves the email there so she 

can come back to it.

That evening

as she puts the girls’ clothes away

she squeals when she finds 

one of her favorite toys 

from when she was a girl.

She realizes then, that its been

a long time since she

felt joy that 

relishes the simple things. 

She carries the little toy 

to join the rest of the pieces of her. 

When she looks up

from her jewelry tray 

she catches her reflection

in the mirror and 

pauses.

All this time she thought she was

a whole person,

pursuing all that she is meant to,

but now that she’s discovered

misplaced pieces of her,

she takes stock. 

Is anything else missing?

How do I incorporate these

pieces of me back into my life,

where they rightfully belong?

Without them, 

I am not wholly me.

Her heart quickens, 

beats to redeem

lost time. 

She calls for the girls as she grabs 

her paintbrush and

runs to the playroom.

For now,

any paint will do.

She has to paint right this minute.

To put the pieces back together.

To be whole. 

To be all that she is meant to be. 

#PermissionGranted

 

I am not a robot.

I am not a robot.

There are days when I 

check off all the boxes.

If you saw me in action 

you might say, 

“Get out of her way!

She’s got a list!”

On these days I am a 

Professional 

Mom/Wife/Writer/Organizer/Cleaner/Chef.

There are days that I 

am a Professional

Facebooker.

There are days that 

if I could get paid to daydream

I would make bank. 

There are days that 

nothing is accomplished

because I just can’t 

do one more thing.

There are days that I 

think I could tackle

anything I put my mind to

and days when I wonder

if I am capable of good things. 

There are days when I try 

something new, 

like a treetop ropes course

and other days when I 

fall into old patterns that 

keep me stuck. 

All of this is me. 

I am not more me 

on my tackle-it-all days

versus my Facebook pro days.

The essence of who I am 

is on display when I daydream

and when I seek out 

something new. 

There’s a range to who I am.

I 

am 

not 

a 

robot 

with a singular setting. 

I am fully myself

when I give space

for all that I am.

#PermissionGranted

 

What hope feels like

What hope feels like

The pitch darkness

makes her stumble. 

It doesn’t matter if her eyes are

open or closed – 

the light is the same. 

She keeps to herself, 

keeps herself small

so that she doesn’t 

end up with bumps and bruises.

she shuffles imperceptibly.

Her lack of confidence is

because she is 

swaddled in uncertainty. 

Her movement,

her thoughts,

are 

stunted,

stagnant.

Her dreams – 

vacant.

What ifs

keep her a prisoner

to what has always been. 

She sits and waits for…

she doesn’t know. 

She waits but 

doesn’t know why…

an invitation perhaps?

An invitation to leave

the dark and  

cross the threshold 

into brave.

Will it ever arrive?

Whatever it is?

This waiting game

is draining life from her. 

She crashes into the nightstand

and hears a

rolling in the drawer. 

She grasps in the dark

and pulls open the drawer

and shuffles through madness.

Her hands find round, tapered. 

Her heart skips a beat. 

Is this what hope feels like?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Her hands flit around the item

and she knows, she just knows, 

it is a candle. 

She reaches into the drawer again,

in search of matches. 

She finds a box.

She lights the candle.

Holds her breath.

And she can see. 

And she remembers.

She remembers the invitation

sent long ago. 

She remembers who she is. 

Ahh, yes.

This is hope. 

The small light gives her enough to see

and certainty takes root in her heart. 

The small light is like a

spotlight on her soul.

It stirs dreams, 

stokes hope,

and she believes that there’s 

possibilities for her 

beyond this smallness

that she has been relegated to. 

The light reminds her 

of her worth, 

enables her to see

the door to the room 

she has been shut in for so long. 

She turns towards the door

with steps of purpose.

She turns the knob and 

steps into brave –

taking the candle with her.  

#PermissionGranted

 

 

Are you in the dark, friend?

Find truth, seek light, and remember that you were made on purpose, for a purpose.

Are you hiding in darkness?

Cling to light and step into brave.

Expectations: The Good and the Bad

Expectations: The Good and the Bad

Expectations. 

They are good 

and they are bad. 

They make me move

and they paralyze me. 

They create structure

and they undo me. 

They provide order

and they inhibit spontaneity.

I need them

and I abhor them.

Some are necessary because, 

well, I am an adult with responsibilities.

The others?

Here’s what I am thinking:

If the expectation isn’t life-giving,

then its got to go. 

Whether it is an expectation

I put on myself or

one someone else 

tries to lay on me – 

If it doesn’t push me 

towards life – 

towards growth –

then I’ve got to let it go. 

This is a decision 

I have to make –

that each of us has

permission to make.

Why hold on to something 

that leads me to 

decay?

If I hold an expectation

in my hands and I feel

rotten

and say terrible things

to myself, about myself –

then the expectation is

not mine to hold.

Perhaps it belongs

to someone else

and they can decide

whether or not

it’s one they want 

to carry.

#PermissionGranted

 

Name an expectation that you need to step into.

Name an expectation that you need to let go of.

 

A daily invitation

A daily invitation

Be who you are,

right where you are.

Sure.

Just be me.

Its so much harder

then it seems it should be –

or than people

make it out to be.

No one else can be me,

true,

but there is work required

for me, to be me.

I have to excavate

out from under the

expectations that have

been heaped on top of me,

I have to pursue truth

and disempower lies.

I have to give grace,

and at the same time,

challenge what

I’ve always believed.

And then,

I have to take

steps forward into

my purpose,

possibilities,

and passion.

I must embrace my quirks,

eradicate misguided habits,

and pursue the essence

of who I am.

Who I’ve always been.

This takes work,

daily work,

and years of work.

Be who you are,

right where you are

is not something we

fall into,

it’s not a simple accomplishment.

Instead, I believe it is

a daily invitation

to pursue what we

are made for.

#PermissionGranted

What are some ways that you can pursue knowing yourself better?

  • Get to know the heart of God – he made you!
  • Take a personality quiz like Clifton Strengths.
  • Ask some friends about what they see in you.
  • Sit in who you are. What do you love? What would you like to make better?

 

Live Your Life: Take Up Your Space

Live Your Life: Take Up Your Space

I overheard your comments to your friend

about the woman across the room.

She, the woman you are 

judging, 

critiquing, 

debasing,

wasn’t doing anything wrong. 

She said nothing wrong.

She is just living her life, 

taking up her space 

and your insecurity got in the way.

Oh, pardon me, 

I don’t mean to offend. 

Well, actually, I’m okay if I do. 

Everyone has permission

to take up their space 

and just because you 

aren’t thrilled with her choices,

her outfit, 

her boisterous personality

doesn’t mean that you can

take space from her. 

Please refrain from expressing

your insecurity this way.

PermissionGranted is for everyone.

Please recognize that if 

someone rubs you the wrong way, 

has a personality that you 

struggle to appreciate, 

wears clothing that you would

not or has the

audacity to choose

to pursue her 

passion,

possibilities, 

and purpose…

she is simply giving herself

permission to do so,

just as you are, 

in your own way,

pursing PermissionGranted.

There’s space for all of us. 

All of our creativity, 

ambitions, 

styles, 

shapes,

languages,

personalities,  

cultures.

There’s enough room for us all.

So each of us have 

a choice to make:

take up our space –

without apology, or 

spend energy making

ourselves small by

attempting to infringe 

on another’s space.

It is kind of a 

easy choice, 

don’t you think?