real life.

photo credit: Moriah Elisabeth Photography

Real life. I have no idea what I’m doing.

I may have nothing figured out. I may not have much money. I may have no semblance of what constitutes a normal or responsible life. I may have cried last night and kicked around some fears this morning. I may doubt every other second of every single day.

But goodness gracious, I love this life. He is good and life is in the rise and fall, the way He constantly pulls us back to Himself. I'm so overwhelmed by God's goodness and His faithfulness.

He takes our broken and messy offerings, the meager things we create, and He breathes His life into them.

I have no plans. That’s kind of been the theme of this year. I have no one-year plan, no ten-step process. I had no real vision for how any of this is going to work out.

I just know the first step. Write. Create. Share. Go.

And He's overflowing me with goodness. I've met new friends and made new connections. I have coffee dates planned with friends and strangers, all over this country. I've been asked to shoot in the UK and to collaborate with other writers.

I've been left in happy tears, whispering, "What is this life?"

When we stop trying to manipulate the outcome and just focus on the process, magic happens. And you know what? It's actually kind of freeing, to know that we don't need a five-year plan. It takes off that pressure to have everything figured out before we even take the first step.

But that's always how God works, isn't it?

Walk through the wilderness so I can take you to the promised land. 

I feel more like myself than I ever have and I have less figured out than I ever have.

But maybe that's the trick.

To stop picking out lives like we do clothes at a store and asking God to make them fit. Spoiler alert: They never do.

To hold less in our hands. To keep them open with our offering. To cling only to Jesus.

I think half the battle is understanding that your story is your story and that it doesn't have to look like someone else's. And to be okay when someone makes you feel less because your story doesn’t look they way think it should.

I want to own my story. I want to own my season. No matter how messy and undefined it is.

Because there's beauty in that surrender.

For so long I tried to make things happen. I cared more about the outcome than the method. I wanted a fast-pass to the reward with as little work as possible.

But you know what? It's a much richer experience when we focus on simply pouring out whatever we have in our hands. Because when we do, He'll refill them in ways we can't even imagine. And in that, our hearts will soften.

Because all I can keep whispering is:

I just want to be light. I just want to be light. Help me be light.

May that be our prayer, in the chaos and the calm, in the rise and fall, in every season, in confusion, in the mess. May that be our one thing.

I may have no idea what I’m doing, but there is absolutely no place I’d rather be.


 

What's your season? How are you owning your story right now? I'd love to hear! Share in the comments!