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Change

It’s strange when you can feel a change. A shift in the wind, a breeze coming in after a silent motionless heat, a glass of cold refreshing water after lying in the desert.

But, what about a different kind of change. Sending you inward to the depths of yourself. Forcing you to become aware of who you are and what you are made of. Placing you in a frightening, uncomfortable and uncertain position.

I have never felt heavier, yet I feel so light. The meaningless things that used to pull me down have let go. The things that would set me on fire in all the wrong ways have dwindled and it seems there has been a new flame in its place.

This flame holds a promise of new things to come. Growth. Progress. Moving on and understanding why I was who I was up until now.

But, I am heavy with the burdens of this world. The sadness that comes from watching those you love suffer in what seems like never-ending pain.

The hurt that comes from watching kids your brother’s age getting shot in a place that is meant to help them grow and shape into leaders and change-makers.

It’s the heartache that burns when you’re far from the ones you love. The distance feeling like more than miles.

Watching people you love who deserve more than the pain they have to endure.

These things start this new flame. This burning sensation in my chest that encourages me to change. To not stay the same. To feel these things but eagerly search for solutions and ways to support. To let my heart be broken for these things but not my spirit. Not my will to fight for something better. If not for me, then for those around me.

Change is always occurring whether we notice it or not. Whether we like it or not. But when you can recognize it, it’s a beautiful piece added to the puzzle of your life.

 

 

Too Much and Not Enough

Feeling like you’re not enough is such a constant struggle.

Feeling like you’re too much is such a constant struggle.

How do we survive when we feel like we’re not enough or we’re too much?

Is there a middle ground? Can we even find it and live there?

So many times we find this worth or lack of it, in other people. Not even those we think are judging us, but those closest to us.

We are expecting to be enough for them, or we are trying too hard not to be too much for them. And when we don’t accomplish either of these things we become angry and disappointed.

How does it make sense that we go to these people, no matter how much we love them or they love us for this worth?

We have someone who always says we’re enough. Someone who knows himself what enough is. We have someone who loves us and finds so much more worth in us than even the the people who love us most in our life.

Yet, time and time again we put more value in earthly opinions and feelings. This is something I will never understand yet am guilty of myself.

I am just thankful for a God who loves me just the same. Despite my constant choices and decisions.

To him, it’s not even a question of “am I enough?” It’s a statement that you are a child of God, therefore, you are everything.

Mapping my weeks: my current favorite productivity hack.

hannah brencher.

*image cred.

I’ll just start by being honest: I went through a series of weeks at the beginning of this year where I wasn’t getting anything done. The slump didn’t last all that long but while I was inside of it, feeling like I was just treading water but not making an impact, it felt eternal. My time felt spread too thin. I felt chaotic whenever I would go over what needed to be done in my mind. I wasn’t making progress and I was getting sucked up by distractions.

I was wasting time on social media. I wasn’t writing. I was doing a series of menial tasks and making no real advancement towards projects that actually mattered to me. But in the last few weeks, everything changed.

I’m a sucker for productivity hacks. I live for them. However, I am learning that everyone operates differently. What works for me…

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Roses Are Red. Be a Yellow one

Roses are red… are they? You can go to the store and get a rose of almost any color. If you cannot find it at your local grocery store, I’m sure you can find it or order your desired color from a florist.

This world puts us in a box, or out of one for that matter. If you are not a red rose, you do not belong in the bouquet of other red roses.

At first, one might frown, look deep inside and ask why it is that they cannot be a red rose. Why they cannot fit inside the bouquet with all the others. They might even begin to wither away, losing all sense of worthiness. If they cannot belong to that, they cannot belong at all.

When the bouquet of flowers is picked up by a visitor, all they see is a bushel of red roses. A blurred together bunch without any notice to which one is which and how they differ.

How lucky we are, those of us who are not a red rose. Those who choose to be a yellow, orange, blue, pink, black or green rose among red, guarantees us the chance to stand out, to show our differences and to be noticed in the most humble of ways.

Not by our outer appearance of pedals or even color, but by the inner beauty and self-love that it takes to stand out among so many who choose to stand in amongst all the rest.

 

(Flowers seem to be an inspiration as of late, despite the lack of them in the midst of this cold midwest spring. But, as anything the Creator designed, there’s so much more to it than meets the eye. Stories and life lessons can come from anything. Thanks for reading and as always, please let me know what you think. 🙂

Warmed by the Same Sun

I stare at the flower as it sways in the wind. It’s not alone. It has others swaying around it. First it swings back and forth with the breeze and they follow. They know its every move, they watch it, wanting to imitate it without fault.

It is red and delicate to these flowers, something they admire and attempt to gain themselves. It is beautiful and petite, not too small, not too big, perfect. Noticed.

I am but a weed, swaying in the same wind, doing the same movements, yet I am unoticed. I grow like the rest of them. The same soil that births it, gives me life too. I am warmed by the same sun. The same cool and refreshing rain, drops on me the same as it does on it. Yet I am not pulled for the same reason.

Why do I look like this and it like that?