The song of humanity.

The song of humanity.

The trees, the dolphins, and

the mountains call to me

and demand to be seen.

I can’t look away.

The bird’s song,

the breeze, tickling the trees,

the way a flower grows

from a teeny seed.

I can’t look away.

I see their creator in them.

His design, his joy,

his creativity is in the magenta flower,

the succulents, the manatee,

the neon tree frog, and the terrapins.

They sing a song over me and

I am compelled to sing with them.

I want to join the chorus.

What are the notes?

I don’t know their song.

What are the words?

How do I join them?

Humanity has a song, too.

I can hear it

when I listen.

The song is constant –

everyone taking a breath

at a different time.

Some scream to be heard.

Some sing into a void

where no one listens.

Some are making their

own stages.

It’s hard to listen to the song because there’s

so much to grieve,

so much hurt

and righteous anger

in the song.

So much so that sometimes I try to silence it.

Headphones on.

Head down.

Just make sure

all is well in my house –

that everyone under my roof

can sing.


My song is the song of humanity.

My voice is meant to be

heard and it is meant to

amplify the song that

others are singing.

I can’t not listen to their song

and there’s no other song

for me to join in on.

I can’t look away.

They demand to be seen.

I can’t look away.

I see their creator in them.

His design, his joy,

his creativity is all

over us all.

My voice must add to

their song of long-awaited,







noise .




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,




Her dreams – 


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.  




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.

Speak for maximum impact.

Speak for maximum impact.

Some things just

need to be said. 

They don’t need rehearsed –

there’s no time for that. 

If the passion is now –

the time is now. 

So often the space when 

something needs to be said 

is a small gap in time – 

and once it has passed

the opportunity for maximum

impact has also passed.

If you wait –

it may be too late. 

When we wait for 

an invitation, 

wait for more research to be done, 

hope for the right time, 

write draft after draft, 

jockey for position,

for platform… 

We miss the opportunity that 

needed our voice –

It’s gone.

And those who may have gained

strength, peace, or freedom

through the impact of our words

will never receive the power

of our words.  

When your heart feels

like it might burst, 

when hope is blossoming, 

when peace includes a fight, 

when truth requires armor, 

when fear and bravery hold hands, 

when passion can’t be contained – 





Are you holding back on speaking up, speaking out?

Are the words you keep within you blocking purpose, passion, and possibilities – for yourself or others?

The question that must be answered

Each time I stand on 

the precipice of a gap –

between what I know – 

and what I do not know –

I am surprised by

the question that 

must be answered.

I thought I already 

chose bravery?




We’ve already been 

through this.

So why, then, am I standing 

here looking at this gap

and feeling queasy?

If I turn back to known

the nausea abates,

but I wither and bitter when 

I stay in known 

for too long.

And it has been too long.

Excuses disguised as 

valid reasons cement 

my feet to what I know.

The gap stares back, 

demanding an answer,

taunting my hesitancy. 

I lift my foot and 

step forward and

the heaviness crumbles.

I choose the unknown, 


I choose bravery

and leave my excuses 

in crumbles

at the edge of the gap.















What decision are you facing today? Sit with it and realize you have a choice to make, a gap to face. Recognize the power of excuses. Name the excuses that are cementing you to the known.

You can do it. Again.

Choose bravery.


Purpose does not belong on a shelf.

Purpose does not belong on a shelf.

It’s always been there –

on the shelf –

hiding in the dark.

It’s never seen the sky

or felt the tension

on the other end of the string

as it rose

through the sky.

The kite has sat,

still in plastic,

the pricetag faded.

Here’s the truth.

I’m scared to fly it.

Afraid I will

make a mistake

and break it.

Afraid I will ask it

to do more than it can

and then we will

crash and burn

and look silly.

And so the vibrant colors

stay hidden in the closet.

The kite on the shelf

is full of purpose

but no one really

knows it is there.

It’s not meant to





And neither am I.

And neither are you.











We are meant to fly,

we are supposed to

be boisterous with our

purpose, passion, and possibilities.

We are to be color and joy

and we are to feel the tension

as we let the wind drive us

where we are supposed to go

while we are held,

tethered to the one

who created us to fly.

Storms will come.

We are tethered.

Questions will pelt us.

We are tethered.

The sun will shine.

We are tethered.

Mistakes will happen.

We are tethered.

Go ahead.

Chase the wind.

Chase your purpose.

It’s what you are made for.




Is your kite on a shelf, friend?

If you are facing storms…be encouraged, you are tethered. You’re in good hands.

A turning from.

A turning from.

Here’s what we forget – 

what I forget – 

sometimes Permission Granted

is a turning from

versus a turning towards.

Sometimes it means

we have to own something, 

and dig in and grow.

Sometimes Permission Granted is

turning away from 

what you’ve always 


and turning towards

what’s always actually been true. 

Sometimes it’s admitting




Often, Permission Granted

isn’t a warm fuzzy feeling. 

I know. 

It is my favorite thing, too.

Permission Granted can

take us to hard places,

challenging moments and

often requires an honest 

evaluation of who we are

in comparison to 

who we are made to be. 

This is the genesis of growth.

And it’s not always fun.

However, it is always necessary

if we want to be all 

that we are made to be.

Why does this matter?

Our world depends on it. 

The world you and I 

live in is created 

by who we are –

by what we do. 

Don’t run from 

Permission Granted.

Don’t avoid hard, challenging

issues or conversations

because they aren’t

warm and fuzzy.

How do you tell your kids, 

the child down the street 

who is hungry every day, 

or the sweet baby at church with

mocha-colored skin

that you are

unable to effect change

because there aren’t warm fuzzies

each step of the way?

We can do hard things. 



What do you need to turn from, friend?

What do you need to learn more about so that you can know what is actually true?