brave.

You may have noticed that I've been writing more frequently these days. Not sure how I find the time, but this little blog has become really important to me. I've realized it helps my heart breathe {inhale in & deep breath out}, it helps my heart heal, and it helps my heart process all the gravel covering the broken roads. It helps keep me grounded and it helps me believe in the power of bravery. For in life, being brave is half the battle.

I sometimes arrive at this grungy place some of you may be familiar with, the hole in the wall I like to call discouragement. And once you arrive, it's one of those situations where you wish you had bought insurance to secure your refundable tickets because the run-down place was infested with rodents galore. The stench makes you shake in your boots (well, mine are still in storage) but if I were wearing my boots, they'd be shaking. And the worst part about discouragement is it's caretaker is this mean, scary, and intimidating boogy monster named doubt. And his odor is incredibly toxic.

As I breathed in the lethal fumes of discouragement and doubt, the gravity of the dangerous situation hit me and I knew I had to...Get up. Leave. Fast. Now.

There are quite a few things I'm passionate about, but one devotion I'm completely invested in is writing. As much as I love knowing how much it influences other people, like I mentioned in the beginning of this post, it helps my heart breathe. But when it comes to disappointment and doubt, they're scariest when the mirror shows your own image in the reflection. "Am I good enough to fulfill my writing dream?" "Are you really cut out to be a Doctor?" "Do you have what it takes to walk away from him forever?" "Can you truly forgive her for what she did?" "Will they see the good in you or will they stare at your flaws?" These discouragements and doubts may break down our strength by attacking our bravery, awarding them victories in a few ammo-less battles, but no fear - we're not letting them win the war.

I get discouraged and doubt things more often than I'd like to admit. I dwell on things not worth my time. I focus on frivolous meaningless concerns and I let them break me down. It all boils down to the realization that I'm not perfect and I never was, nor will I ever be. I'm me. Imperfect. Flawed. Me. I know me is more than enough for Joseph, but is me good enough for me? Is me good enough for all I want to do and all I want to be? Is she? This girl who's made more mistakes than she can count, who finds it difficult putting herself together these days, who can hardly believe she's really a mom, who stresses out whenever she's late, who analyzes the smallest vain things, who secretly wishes she had all the answers, who struggles with not feeling good enough, and who wants to be better than she is. She needs someone to believe in her, she needs someone to forgive her, she needs someone to be brave for her. Why not the beautiful woman in the mirror staring back in her eyes? She needs to believe in her own dreams so the world can feel her passion, she needs to forgive her own disappointments so she can experience true freedom, and she needs to be brave for her own sake because her imperfect, flawed, and beautiful heart and it's maker are holding their breath.

letting brave win.

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