Best Nine

Sometimes the most profound moments of life are the ones that go unnoticed. While many reflect on the past year sharing their best “9” on social media, I wonder — perhaps our true, “best” moments are the ones that don’t garner likes or comments. Perhaps instead they fly under the radar — unchecked and unapplauded.

While the noteworthy moments — the big promotion at work, the engagement, the wedding, the pregnancy, the dream home, the dream career, the perfect family, the financial security — are worthy of joy and gratitude, not everyone ticks all the boxes at all the socially acceptable times. Not everyone gets recognition. Not everyone gets lucky.

What if this year you got separated? Got a divorce? Got cancer? Lost your job? Lost sight of your dreams? Went bankrupt? Gave up your home? Lost the love of your life? Are still waiting for the love of your life? Lost hope of having children? Lost confidence that you’re raising your children the best you know how? Lost a loved one? Lost the will to live?

As my friend with stage IV cancer told me recently, fuck the boxes. Because while the lovely milestones are worth celebrating, I would wager to say that our best moments are not in the pretty, shiny applaud-worthy events but rather in the waiting, in the pain, in the longing, in the questioning, in the loneliness, in the struggle, in the perseverance, in the quiet kind of bravery of putting one foot in front of the other each and every day — of being present, of being vulnerable, of being real.

We all deserve to see our dreams realized. Maybe this was that kind of year for you. And if so, hold on to that amazing high! Hold on to that joy! Consider yourself extraordinarily lucky. But if this wasn't your best year — if this wasn’t even your best decade — remember your worth. Remember your beauty. Remember your strength. Remember that it’s these moments — this season — that will shape your heart in ways that nothing else ever could. It’s these moments of your life that will help someone else navigate their own personal season of darkness — because you’ve already been there, and you understand, and you can walk with them. And that, my dear friend, is something worth celebrating.

Beautiful

Remember your beauty.
Remember your worth.
Remember that you mean something.
That the world is a brighter place with you in it.

If you feel that you are broken, know that I am broken too. If we were all honest with ourselves and with each other, we'd realize that we are all broken in some way. All the pretty masks we wear won't hide it. Perhaps it's time we stop hiding it.

I know the weight you carry is lonely and painful and devastating at times, and the darkness feels as if it might swallow you whole if you just stopped for a second to let yourself truly feel. But there is beauty in your fight. There's a fierceness in your will to survive. There is brilliant, blinding light on the other side of midnight, just waiting to break through, waiting to save you.

So if you are so buried in the pain that you can't see a safe way through it, if you feel like you're not good enough, not worthy enough, not strong enough -- let these words ring out like an anthem in your soul:

You are beautiful.
You are beautiful.
You are beautiful.

You are too beautiful to lose. 

Hold Tight

I feel a tiredness in my soul today. The world is just messy and sad and hard. Now more than ever we need to hold onto the people who truly see us in all shades of light, in all shades of night. People who we don’t have to question will be there when we need them the most. Not in theory or in well-intended clichés, but on the ground, in the trenches – with us. People who see our flaws and adore us despite those flaws. People who celebrate our uniqueness and hold a mirror to our souls when we start to doubt the value we bring to the world.

I want to be that person --- that fights like hell for you when you can’t see your way clear of the madness. That sees you, and knows you, and reminds you of the best version of yourself. And I want you to be that person for me. Because without love, without true, gritty connection, we are all just hollowed out beings walking through a wasteland without purpose and without hope. And this kind of existence was never our dream. It was never meant to be our future. So if you happen to find those few who defy this fate, hold tight – hold tight and never let go.

Owning Our Stories

These struggles do not define you. You are not your illness. Not your weakness. Not your brokenness. Not your scars. And though these things all shape you, they do not define you. You are much more than that. 

Believe in your story. Fight for your story. It's worth it. Even on the darkest days when you feel like no one is left standing next to you, it is worth it. Someone out there needs you to speak when they cannot. Someone out there needs to read your words. Someone out there needs you to stand beside them and say, I'll fight for you and with you. I cannot promise that in owning our story we won't ever know darkness again. But I can promise that you are not alone. I am not alone. We are not alone. 

All of us - the brave, the broken, the hopeful, the hopeless - all of us are part of something much bigger than we know or see. Our community is in each other, and our currency is love.

Letters to God

I am standing out here in the storm, screaming. I’m screaming at you, God. I’m screaming for you. What do I need to do to get your attention? If you want me to believe, then be here. Show up. People are starving – for sincere community, for meaning in tragedy, for shelter in chaos, for love amidst hate. What am I supposed to do about this mess of a world we live in? The brokenness and suffering is immeasurable. If you are, then be. Here. With us. Be here, not in corporate songs we sing, but in the trenches of our darkest nightmares. Be here, until your warmth seeps into our veins and frees our hearts from all the pain and all the doubt and all the insecurities and all the unworthiness.

Despite all my best efforts to ignore you, to rebel, to push you away, to scream profanities when no other words seem to express my despair adequately enough, and to annihilate your very existence in my mind – despite all this, I cannot help but see you in the seemingly minute details of the world around me:

In the sun when it rises on the horizon;
In the wind as it sweeps through the trees and cools my face;
In the beauty of foreign landscapes;
In the last bit of light before nightfall;
In the still of evening when an owl swoops overhead and perches on the branches above, looking down at me with wide, almost understanding eyes.

In those brief moments, I want to believe that you're present; and that somehow, everything will be okay.