December 2016.


We’re already here.


No, We’re finally here.


To be honest, I’m not sure which way I lean. All I know is that when I went to peek ahead at the hanging calendar I was met with nothing but bare wall. I had two immediate thoughts: “I need to get a new calendar” and “Now what?” This year has left me unsure over so many things. I don’t find myself particularly happy or sad. Instead, I find myself frozen. It’s as though I’m center stage as the audience waits for me to deliver. And instead of improvising, I find myself shouting “Line?”

I just don’t feel like improvising. Not this time. I’d rather lay it all out there so people know exactly where I stand. Yes the show must go on, but right now I’m ok not knowing what I’m doing. At least I have accepted it. I have spent the past year on my knees praying/shouting “LINE?! God, remind me again what I’m supposed to be feeling right now? Remind me what I’m supposed to say. What am I supposed to be doing?”

Sometimes life is scene that you were certain you were prepared for. And I was. I’ve done my part. I’ve practiced. I’ve researched. I’ve hustled. I’ve taken risks and pushed my limits. I’ve been vulnerable. I’ve been teachable. And I was ready to slay this scene. The scene I was certain I was born for. I marched out on stage, took one deep breath and spoke loudly as to shake the auditorium with my voice.

I was made for such a time as this.

Some of you know this feeling well. It’s the moment when you begin to understand why you are the way you are. It’s looking in the mirror and seeing your worth for the first time. It’s realizing you are capable of so much more than you have preciously given yourself credit for. It’s the calming peace of free falling into the arms of Grace when you finally say “yes’ to those longings in your heart. In a way, it feels like flying without wings.

But life is not a perfectly executed performance. It’s often in the times that you feel the closest that you have ever felt to nailing your part, that ish hits the fan. The fixtures fall. You rip your costume. The lights flicker. The news from the doctor isn’t good. The unexpected bills roll in. The disappointing blows of friends and family hit you. And you try to stand your ground. You try your best to stay positive and improvise just like you had always been taught.

You keep going. You push through. You smile, but the sweat stains can’t hide your struggle. More interruptions happen. Circumstances rudely run out on stage and knock you down. It knocks the wind, hope and creativity right out of you. Stunned, you get back up again and go to press on once more, only this time you can’t. Instead you find yourself searching for your next line, and as frantically as your mind is racing, its just nowhere to be found.

“Line?” I hoarsely whisper out.

But thats not really what I want to say. I want to shout “I’m sorry, everyone! It’s not that I haven’t tried! ┬áIt’s not that I didn’t come prepared! I’m doing my best to push through this! But all these interruptions have caused me to lose my train of thought.” Maybe that will help people understand why I don’t quite seem myself. I’m here. I’m still a dreamer, but I’m a dreamer trying to catch my breath.

I know I’ll get it back. I will.

I’m believing 2017 will be the year where my tired lungs will inhale new life. I’m still believing for beautiful things and anticipating deep desires to finally be fulfilled. But in the meantime, I’m going to be right here. I’m the woman on stage covered in sweat waiting for my line in front of you all. Don’t worry, I’m not embarrassed. I’m strangely calm. Because I know that as hard as this season has been for me it won’t always be this way.

The joy will show up.

The breath will return.

The line will come.