Dial it back
Cuddle up
Keep it simple
Make it special
Listen
Learn
Understand
Rest
Create
Take up your space
Feel what you feel
Don’t dwell there
Hold hope
Cling to truth
Let go of what you can’t hold.
Be safe
Pray
Strengthen roots
Extend grace
Be present
Grow
Give
Be who you are
Right where you are.
#PermissionGranted
How can you practice being, friend?
Somehow,
someway,
something grew.
I don’t remember
planting, watering
or fertilizing the
fruit I am holding.
At some point
something
found good soil,
put down roots,
grew green shoots,
blossomed and now
I have fruit.
I am astounded
to be holding fruit.
When did this germinate?
I trace back the
origin of the gift
of sweet harvest
and discover it was
planted during
one of the hardest,
driest, most challenging
seasons I’ve ever experienced.
I am baffled and I weep
due to the friction of the
joy scraping against
grief and pain.
I was unaware
there would be
a harvest.
There’s no way to know
what will be sown
in the unknown.
#PermissionGranted
Friends, there will be growth, even in the middle of a pandemic, stay present and try to have an open heart and mind. Be prepared to be surprised by a harvest.
The flat, preserved anoles
in my sister’s door frame
make me a little sad.
Why didn’t you move,
little lizards?
Maybe you had hung out
in the door frame before
and you thought you
were safe.
Perhaps you didn’t
recognize the
danger in delay.
Maybe you were
comfortable.
You clearly were
with friends
so maybe you
thought you
were in a good place.
The evidence
suggests otherwise,
my dear anoles.
Your demise reminds me
there’s a cost to
delaying change
when change needs to happen.
Your outline reminds me
that I sacrifice a dream
when I choose comfort
over courage.
Safe over brave.
When a move is a must
and I dig my heels in
to stay
where I am at
thankyouverymuch –
it will cost
me something –
every time.
#PermissionGranted
This being who you are –
who you are meant to be –
is not an easy road to walk.
And sometimes I
think it is supposed to be.
And that’s a lie.
I believe it is
worth the fight.
It’s worth wading
through the lies,
the pain, the grief,
the strife and anger
to get to a place
where you can
pursue what you are made for.
So if you are struggling,
it may not because
you are pursuing
the wrong thing.
It may just be that
being a whole person
is hard, worthy work.
#PermissionGranted
Lethargy is in her veins.
She is slow to feel,
slow to dream,
slow to fight.
She feels unsure in
every space,
unsure if she wants
to be seen
or if she wants
to be in the shadows.
She delays decisions
until they are
made for her.
Blooming is
left to
others
with more beauty
and talent.
Her plainness
disqualifies her.
Her hunger for more
no longer registers.
She just
moves
more
s l o w l y.
The billboards educate,
the lyrics choreograph,
the movies script
the pathways in
her brain
and
she’s too bone-weary
to fight.
She just goes through the motions,
does what is expected of her.
Lies are what sustains her,
but she can’t find a pulse.
#PermissionGranted
…to seek sustenance from truth.
The full moon was breath-taking last night when I saw it playing hide and seek behind some leafless trees.
It took my breath away because it was
so low,
so gigantic,
so faithful,
so unassuming.
Then, this morning it was low in the sky as I took my daughter to school. We embraced the moments we had with it and we kept looking for it as we made our way through the stoplights.
“There it is, again!”
“It’s like a sticker, it’s so perfect!”
And then it was quiet.
I am sitting at a traffic light.
Looking at the moon, trying not to feel.
I want to be present and not lean into
I am tired. I have questions. I am overwhelmed.
My girl doesn’t know all of these things.
And she doesn’t know how her shared excitement about the moon encouraged me to take a deep breath.
I am brought back to the present when I hear her sweet voice coming from the back of the car.
(She’s a singer, like her mama.)
She’s singing:
Away in a manger, no crib for his bed,
The little Lord Jesus laid down his sweet head;
The stars in the heavens looked down where he lay,
The little Lord Jesus, asleep on the hay.
The cattle are lowing; the poor baby wakes,
But little Lord Jesus, no crying he makes.
I love thee, Lord Jesus; look down from the sky
And stay by my cradle till morning is nigh.
Be near me, Lord Jesus; I ask thee to stay
Close by me forever, and love me, I pray.
Bless all the dear children in thy tender care,
And fit us for heaven to live with thee there.
And I look at the moon.
And I hear her song…
It’s the same moon.
The moon before me is the same moon that was in the sky at the birth of Jesus.
The same light was in the sky when he came so that we could stay close forever.
The tired, overwhelmed feelings I have are in part, a result of the pain that comes with stretching, with growth, and then partly due to being here on this earth with the wrongs that run rampant.
He’s fitting me for heaven – challenging the parts of me that need to change and he’s also placed within me a longing for his kingdom here on earth – I am reminded that he invites me to be a part of that work.
And again, I feel loved, seen, heard.
It’s the same moon
so low,
so gigantic,
so faithful,
so unassuming.
#PermissionGranted
