There is something surely vigorous about a room packed with women. Last night, the Freedom Movement at Rock Harbor was just that; paired with cake pops and coffee and really high heels and I was in heaven and smiled and laughed for multiple hours straight. I feel like a kid again, I told my best friend.
I couldn’t help but look around the room and see the undeniable differences. Physically, yes..but the souls, the talent, the weaknesses, the trials, the joy, the pain, the love, the friendships, the sisterhood, the motherhood, the shoes. So many different shoes.
Tell your story with your whole heart, every single day. Bravery. Not longing to be someone else, but being YOU without apologizing or feeling inadequate or when I do/say/am THIS, then, yes then I’ll be okay. No, you..just you as you are..your dirty hair-sweat pant days AND your high-heeled, glamorous, butt-kicking days. All of it, the whole thing. YOU.
O, sister…I hope you celebrate yourself. That people know and love you for everything you are celebrate you. That the little girl in you comes out and dances or paints or sings or laughs really hard or sees shapes in the clouds or cooks or reads or writes or listens because you are free.
(these are the types of pictures I send to my poor husband) but in a weird way it shows how he has accepted me in all my weird-goodness and love me for just that. Praise Jesus.