It can’t be planned or prepared for …
It can’t be staged, played out by actors with props and prepared speeches.
It can’t be bragged about or heralded aloud and … remain.
Brave risks much – yields more.
It stands before destruction despite fear, despite ruin.
Brave is brokenness and vulnerability living themselves out loud against everything which could crush and exploit them.
The bravest act of all is remaining steadfastly true to one’s own self.
It is vulnerable to be different – to calmly and insistently remain honest; without diversion, without compromise, without acquiescing one’s own true self.
In the face of, not the enemy, but before those whom we love and cherish the most.
Brave requires a trust outside of our own understanding, experience, and knowledge.
Opportunities for bravery rears themselves up around quiet corners, in everyday conversations, and in silences.
Brave lies within us shut in by walls and layers – like pavement over the heads of sleeping dandelions.
Three truths and the lie –
I was a victim of childhood sexual abuse.
I label my abuse as “not that bad.”
I love the person who perpetrated these acts and often wish he still had a place in my life.
Pain, confusion, bewilderment, forgiveness, and love all weigh out in this life, not always in equal amounts, and not always in ways we think they should.
I love the way dandelions don’t care about the pavement – and push their way through to the sky -regardless. Because the light beckons.
This week’s word for #wholemama is: Brave. Read other brave stories Here