brave...

I am someone who does not often feel brave or courageous. I am not a David. I don’t think you’ll ever hear me stand up with my 5 little stones and declare myself ready to face Goliath. Currently I would say I’m feeling a bit more like a hermit crab longing to pull back into my shell. I’m begging for mercy and asking for safe refuge, that place to retreat and hide, to take my battered and bruised heart to be shielded from the storm so I can recover for a while. But the Lord has been abundantly clear that a rest period is not His best. He has not released me to walk away but has clearly asked me to press on, to walk forward, to continue to step into the spaces that cause me to feel bruised and to be bold and honest about them. To admit that hard is hard but hard isn’t intrinsically bad. I think we sometimes have a desperately hard time being honest. We feel like we need to have our acts together and we will be considered less than if we’re crumbling. But maybe crumbling is brave. Maybe exposing the pieces that are shattered and seem to be falling apart all around us is the courageous choice. Undoubtedly someone is watching you - maybe she needs to see the truth. 

Last weekend I went to Siena’s 2nd birthday party. It was Minnie Mouse themed and it was all kinds of darling. I walked in and there was a swarm of kids in the pool bobbing around in their floaties (which have come a long way since our day I might add) and splashing about. They were having the most fun. As I surveyed the premises, it was couple after couple after couple and their gaggle of kiddos. I honestly didn’t consider for one second that I would be the only single gal there before I went. I’m auntshell - I just put the date on my calendar and then purchased the Minnie Mouse Accessory Kit for Sisi because it was obviously the most appropriate gift from the accessory queen to her budding princess. It wasn’t until Carrie had departed with Izzy and Rory that I realized I was out of place. I don’t have a husband or a baby and truly there isn’t even a glimmer of that on the horizon. I would LOVE to be adventuring through mommyhood with my best friends, but that isn’t my life. Everywhere I go looks and feels a little bit like that - but maybe THIS is my brave. Maybe showing up solo and choosing to still engage is the way I walk faithfully in His best for me even in the midst of the hard and disappointing. Maybe brave is denying to fall prey to the lump in my throat or tears burning my eyes. And when I crumble (because I will) maybe that is brave too.