Oh Hey.

Welcome to my space. I write honestly about motherhood, finding joy, Jesus, not quite fitting in and embracing the mess. Grab a latte & let's skip the small talk. 



I'm not exactly sure when I started thinking that being strong and sucking it up is brave. 

Somewhere in my journey to 28 years, I started buying into the superhero complex. 

Be strong and don't show your weakness. Slap a big-fat-fake-healthy smile on your face and then people will love and accept you. If this is the goal, yes. But o my gosh, I can't fake it for another 28 years. I can't give everyone what they want anymore and I can't worry so much about what they want, either. 

I would venture to say most people feel more comfortable with an "all is well" answer to their "how are you?" question. 

I do this. I give it to them. "Yes, I'm doing great! SO GREAT!!!!"

I did this. I want so badly to let myself feel more and try to please less. Not in an unloving, selfish way..but in a transparent, sensitive, honest, loving, gentle way. I long to feel deeply and work through it. To stay in my mess and cry because I need a good cry and let me tell you something. I used to HATE crying. I'm telling you. I would clear the room in a moment if I sensed someone was about to well up. I only cried in private and even when I did, I felt shame and weakness. 

Now I'm not saying we should all lose it over every little thing; but my goodness, if I am sensitive and hurt..to uncover. To not "be strong" but to be present in the hurt, in the weakness. To be honest and be unashamed of weakness. 

I am weak, we all are. We can't do it all. 

I got mad at my husband last week because of something little "he did." After some soul searching, I realized I was indeed embarrassed, hurt, and insecure about something completely different that had nothing to do with him. I felt initial shame in admitting but soon found freedom and o my goodness, freedom is where bravery and strength rise up. 

I admitted my weakness. My embarrassment, what was REALLY going on. 

I uncovered. I went swimming by myself and embraced it all. 

I took my superhero cape off and felt weak. It feels weird and hard but so, so right. Because, well, we are weak. Not always. But sometimes and when it happens, I want to FEEL it. To say it and to embrace my need for a strong savior. That I need help, need people, need truth. 

To remember that our enemy is persistent in telling us lies about ourselves. 

We are loved. You are enough, in your weakness. 

You have permission to dance and sing and be you, just as you are. Even if you just had a complete meltdown and cried for an hour because you don't feel like you measure up. You do and it's also okay to feel like you don't. But, you do. SO feel it with me. Cry when it's hard and admit your weak, because I tell you what. Beauty and freedom are just past those tears, my friend. Uncover.