day thirty-one: so they say this is the end

We made it, people. I say "we" because I somehow posted something here for 31 days in a row, and you somehow read them. I think you had the harder job.

I want to thank you for reading. I can't actually express how much that means to me -- whether this is the first post you've read or the 31st. It doesn't really matter how few or how many. It still means a lot.

(Thanks to Sarah, Sarah and my mom for lending this space a few of your amazing words.)

I hope you've been encouraged by a few of these. I hope you begin to understand the depth of your worth. I hope you place your value in the centre of Christ's hands, and I hope each day you meet him there, in the quiet where you feel small. I hope you realize that your inadequacy is in fact adequate. I hope you know you're more than what you could be labeled as.

I hope you write a letter to your body. 

I really just hope you know you're enough, and even when you don't feel enough, Jesus will indeed be enough for you.

That's what I hope you know most of all.

So they say this is the end, but in truth you and I both know the end is far from here. Because sure, we're both probably thankful I won't be writing here every single day anymore, but enough is a choice that I hope you and I will both continue to choose.

Thanks for not breaking up with me. I've loved hanging out with you.

I'll see you. (Just not for a little while.)

I would love to hear what your favourite part of this 31 days series has been, and what things you'd like to hear from me in the future! 

This is day thirty-one. You can find the rest of this series right here.

If you like this post, consider getting the rest of this series dropped right into your inbox. You can sign up here. And don't worry, I'll never give your email out to anyone. Ever.  [madmimi id=2]

day thirty: where my worth is rooted

I think today I could fall over in exhaustion and it's days like these where I find myself succumbing to the claws of inadequacy. But I'm going to remember where my worth is rooted. This is what I've started to say to Jesus each morning.

Let my worth be rooted in You.

I wake up and say it, while I'm still beneath the white covers, huddled inside my sheltered cocoon.

Let my worth be rooted in You.

I'll walk to work and say it, while the sky hasn't woken up and the air is cold and my breath has begun to show.

Let my worth be rooted in You.

I'll tie my apron and say it, while I knot it behind my back and loop the string into the other and switch on the lights and lock the front door.

Let my worth be rooted in You.

I'll clock out for the day and say it, while I leave in a hurry and go home to my words and my art and my to-do list that most likely won't get done.

Let my worth be rooted in You.

I'll scan my Instagram and say it, while I see pictures of real people in their real lives, which are both beautiful and messy, both ordinary and remarkable.

Let my worth be rooted in You.

I'll wash my face and say it, while I brush my teeth and crawl into bed and get ready for a brand new day, one where I'll pray all over again that my worth may be rooted in You.

This is day thirty. You can find the rest of this series right here.

If you like this post, consider getting the rest of this series dropped right into your inbox. You can sign up here. And don't worry, I'll never give your email out to anyone. Ever.  [madmimi id=2]

day twenty-nine: the long walk home

I was walking home from work today. It was crisp and the leaves have almost all fallen, with half the trees bare and the other half holding on for a little while longer. I wonder which one I am today. If I'm the leaf willing to dive deep into the next season, or if I'm the one holding on, not quite ready to let go just yet.

There's been something stirring up inside of me recently. It's the kind of stirring I can't put a finger on. It's exciting and uncomfortable all at the same time, and it's not seeming to want to go away anytime soon. I feel dreams and ideas and sentences that begin with  "perhaps this..." bubbling to the surface and I know they'll soon overflow from me. And maybe it's the season. Maybe it's the realization that everything is always changing, that nothing is ever staying truly the same. Because even as fall settled in, winter has been coming closer each day. Fall was never really here to stay.

And maybe that's what I'm feeling too. That this season, this time, it's never really here to stay. And I've been fearful to test out these new things because I can't quite see past them yet, and it's always so much easier when we have a little bit more of the picture. That always feels a little more comforting. You all know how much I like having a decent grip of control.

But as I was walking home today, I tried to come to terms with something -- that this, right now, this is what I have been given. And maybe it's time to take a good leap across some waters that feel unsteady and not sure, and maybe as this season glides into the next it's time for my seasons to change too.

Honestly, maybe all this talk about inadequacy is making me realize that it's okay to hand all of this over to Jesus and ask him to make me a little more brave and little less of a control freak.

You see, if this year has taught me anything, it's that it's okay to take a risk. Perhaps it's more than okay, perhaps it's just real good.

I know it's hard when we're walking down a road and we can't quite see what's coming up next. I know it's hard to envision a massive leap because what happens if we fall? I know it's hard to give up the reins when we want security and safety and a secure plan B.

But it's a long walk home.

I would hate to miss out on an even better season if I stayed the leaf that kept on holding on and wouldn't ever let go. 

This photo from my beautiful friend, Myquillyn Smith (the Nester)

This is day twenty-nine. You can find the rest of this series right here.

If you like this post, consider getting the rest of this series dropped right into your inbox. You can sign up here. And don't worry, I'll never give your email out to anyone. Ever.  [madmimi id=2]

day twenty-eight: trying something new

Today I'm welcoming Sarah Belbeck to the blog. Sarah is probably one of the most authentic (and also intelligent) people that I've met and that's why I asked her to come share today. I think sometimes authenticity can feel rare and fragile and I want to choose to surround myself with it. This is what Sarah has to say...

by Sarah Belbeck

"I can't do it. Look, everybody else can. What's wrong with me?"

I could feel myself start the beatdown. I am trying (insert literally anything) for the first time in my life and I couldn't do it. I told myself all sorts of things.

Obviously, I am stupid or broken.

Obviously, I am worse than everybody else.

Obviously, everybody else cares about what I am doing and will mock me for failing.

Obviously, I should be perfect and recognized for my abilities after a single attempt at something new.

You might think this is a gross exaggeration, and that there's no possible way anyone could ever feel this  way. People have to learn; we all start somewhere. We usually all start in the same position. But I know  you've also all met someone who was what we call a "natural" at something. The people who we hold in  high regard because we imagine they can do no wrong. They seem to do well at everything they attempt.  It's normal to compare yourself to others. And jealousy comes all too easily.

See, I expect to be a professional at everything I attempt. I see people do something cool or interesting  or worthy in my eyes, and I want to be able to do it the same way; if not better. I wouldn't exactly call it a competitive nature, this emotion that bubbles up inside me. Maybe it's a lack of sympathy. The majority of people who are good at something have put a lot of time, effort, and even money into their skills. I am the one who mocks when I expect to do better when I've done absolutely nothing to earn it. I just want to  be good enough right now. There's that desire for instant gratification that our elders are always poking  fun at "kids these days" for. I have the head knowledge that being good at something takes more than  five seconds. But my insecurity, my desire to be enough when I never feel like I could be, takes over.

I can think of things in my life I've done and been recognized for. But I often I push people away who are  kind to me by making them feel like their praise isn't enough.  Others are never as hard on me as I am on  myself. Sometimes people say I'm creative, I can draw well, I'm a good writer. But I don't consider myself  worthy of praise in any area of interest I have, despite what I'm told. I know perfection can't be attained; I  pass on this nugget of wisdom to many of my friends who constantly try to please everyone. So why am I so hard on little old me?

Deep down, I know I'm good enough. It takes a little digging sometimes, but I know I can do a lot of things  I put my mind to and my heart into. My desire to try new things and want to gain new skills can be enough to get me going, instead of feeling sad and low. And even if I'm not good enough right now, whether it's writing an essay or playing a sport or instrument, I can always improve. There's a strange line between accepting yourself wherever you are -- feeling like you're enough -- and striving for more.

So, this is an address to anyone I've ever been jealous of or compared myself to. I know you didn't magically get good at dancing or singing or writing or making sculptures. You loved those things, and you wanted to be good at them, and that was enough for you.

This is also an address to myself. There's nothing wrong with me. I'm not good at everything. I'm not perfect. It's okay to make mistakes and fail and not feel like I'm good enough. What matters is what I do with those feelings.

And finally, this is an address to anyone who wants to feel like they're enough. I'm certain you are good right now - just as you are. In fact, I know you are! But I challenge you to channel your negative energy elsewhere; channel it towards yourself, yes, but positively! Turn the negative into something that can make you feel like you're good enough to keep trying. I promise that you are.

This is day twenty-eight. You can find the rest of this series right here.

If you like this post, consider getting the rest of this series dropped right into your inbox. You can sign up here. And don't worry, I'll never give your email out to anyone. Ever.  [madmimi id=2]

day twenty-seven: buying yourself a reminder

I bought myself a reminder. Now, we could technically argue that a) I don't need to actually buy myself anything (because aren't the printables reminder enough?) but b) I'm terrible at hanging my own artwork in my room because all I see are my imperfections (I'm working on it, I'm working on it) and c) buying stuff is just SO MUCH MORE FUN. (Particularly if it's Lisa Leonard, and particularly if it's jewelry, and particularly if said jewelry has the word "boho" in the title. Which it does.)

So anyway, I bought myself a reminder.

I got the necklace engraved with the words "you are enough" because honestly I don't believe that 99.9% of the time. I used to think that if I didn't "get" it, I would have failed. We're on day twenty-seven of choosing enough and I still don't get it. But I'm choosing that not to be thought of as a failure, but instead a reminder I may need daily.

What sort of reminders might you need on this Monday? You can pop them in the comments if you'd like. (I'll be praying for them today.)

If you want access to all of my printables as a reminder, here they are: 

I like you just as you are 

You are known and approved 

You are enough 

A list of all the wonderful things you are 

Christ is enough for you 

This is day twenty-seven. You can find the rest of this series right here.

If you like this post, consider getting the rest of this series dropped right into your inbox. You can sign up here. And don't worry, I'll never give your email out to anyone. Ever.  [madmimi id=2]

day twenty-six: find your safe people

We need safe people. Of this I am convinced. We need them like we need our lungs to fill with oxygen, like we need that same breath to escape our lips. Without them we would suffocate beneath the feelings of inadequacy and the fear of judgement and the comparisons and the competitions and the unspoken rivalries.

We need them to cheer fiercely when something happens that is exciting but also scary. We need them to sit beside us and reassure us and reaffirm us and not get upset when we're constantly saying we're sorry. We need them to tell us there's no need to keep apologizing.

We need them to laugh with us -- to laugh hard, but also to tell us that it's okay to cry. To tell us that crying is good. To tell us to listen to those tears when they run down all wild.

We need them to be honoured when we ask a really important and vulnerable favour. We need them to whisper how proud of us they are, and to promise honesty forever. We especially need their honesty because sometimes this world feels flaky and unsure.

We need them to be for us, and we need them to tell us that. And maybe tell us that again, because we may not believe them the first time. We need them to giggle at our awkward moments that make us want to simply fall over with embarrassment. We need them to tell us stories of their own awkward moments so we don't fall over alone.

We need them to listen to our secrets, to hear out our disappointments and our shame and our guilt. And we need them to listen to our dreams -- the seemingly small and the impossibly large. Sometimes we just need them to listen.

We need them to be brave, and to put their hand on our shoulder while they whisper we're brave, too.

We need them. Because we need safe people.

And then, we'll take everything they gave us -- everything we so desperately needed -- and we'll pour it and more all out right back on them. Because the truth of it is: they need safe people, too.

This is day twenty-six. You can find the rest of this series right here.

If you like this post, consider getting the rest of this series dropped right into your inbox. You can sign up here. And don't worry, I'll never give your email out to anyone. Ever.  [madmimi id=2]

day twenty-five: the prayer I need to see (a free printable)

This is the prayer I need to see. Sometimes just repeating the words over isn't quite enough to stick into my brain. Sometimes I need to stare at the words, too.

[download id="2513"]

(The printable may go directly into your downloads without popping up on your screen, so if you don't see it right away, you might want to check there.)

This is day twenty-five. You can find the rest of this series right here.

If you like this post, consider getting the rest of this series dropped right into your inbox. You can sign up here. And don't worry, I'll never give your email out to anyone. Ever.  [madmimi id=2]

day twenty-four: let us both show up today

I'm not afraid of flying -- though I am afraid of roller coasters -- and todays flight felt like a never ending coaster. My stomach kept dropping and I was pushing my cuticles back. I didn't realize what I was doing until I looked down and saw blood forming on the skin where my cuticle used to be. I placed my fingers against the droplets and could feel my heart pounding through my hand.

It wasn't fear of flying or even the strange amount of turbulence for a short fifty minute flight that was making me nervous. It was where I was going, the place my plane was whisking me away to.

I was headed to a bloggers conference and I was terrified.

I've never really gone to a conference as an attendee. My sister and dad run conferences each year and I love them, but I'm used to seeing it be planned and transformed from nothing to something really great. An attendee feels scary. Unsafe. No place to hide behind.

But here I am. With whooshing feelings of inadequacy and un-enoughness, here I am. With a very small and a not very brave yes, here I am. With my smallness evident to all who looks my way, here I am.

Where will you show up today?

This is day twenty-four. You can find the rest of this series right here.

If you like this post, consider getting the rest of this series dropped right into your inbox. You can sign up here. And don't worry, I'll never give your email out to anyone. Ever.  [madmimi id=2]

day twenty-three: make a list (and a free printable)

I'm not a list maker.

My sister is. She's organized and an event planner extraordinaire and a really good list maker. She inspires me sometimes with her lists and on certain days when I'm feeling particularly chaotic, I'll make one too.

My heart has been feeling chaotic recently.

So I thought of my sister and made a list. My reminder list of all that I am and all that I hope to be.

When it all comes down to it, this is the truth: 

you are loved, 

and saved, 

and forgiven, 

and redeemed, 

and enough, 

and whole, 

and worthy, 

and brave, 

and beautiful, 

and everything you want to be. 

Please feel free to take this reminder list and make it a reminder for yourself, too.

[download id="2496"]

 (The printable may go directly into your downloads without popping up on your screen, so if you don't see it right away, you might want to check there.)

This is day twenty-three. You can find the rest of this series right here.

If you like this post, consider getting the rest of this series dropped right into your inbox. You can sign up here. And don't worry, I'll never give your email out to anyone. Ever.  [madmimi id=2]

day twenty-two: may I not let that define me

A customer told me yesterday she believes I'll be working at Starbucks for the rest of my life. She told me she could say this because her daughter is also a barista. Let me just say that a) I don't really think that fact validates her choice of words to me and b) I felt awful for her daughter. I simultaneously almost said something extremely rude and almost punched her, but I ended up not doing either. I'm still trying to decide why. Maybe it's because of my unbelievable self control (it's not) or maybe it's because I was literally in shock (that's more like it).

Remember that you are more post? Where I decided not to let other peoples opinions of me get me down? Well IT DIDN'T LAST VERY LONG.

I so often think that if I write a blog post or tell someone an idea or remind myself of something, that it will click in my brain and it will stay there forever. That is sadly and unfortunately false.

I know even after these thirty-one days are done, I'll still have to tell myself: "You are enough, you are significant, you are loved, you are forgivable." I know this because even during this series I have been having to tell myself these things.

Even during this series I have forgotten.

It's so easy for people's words to define us, even momentarily. I have allowed this woman's words --  a lady I probably will never see again -- to define me. I couldn't stop thinking about it all day. I wondered for a long time if she's right, if this is all I'll ever amount to.

And it is here in which lies my choice.

I may choose to accept her words, her fate for my life. I may choose to believe her. I may choose to settle for her disbelief in me, to stop striving for more, for books and words and art and dreams.

Or I can choose enough. I can choose more. I can choose to use these words as fuel and empowerment and a reason to try harder.

I'm back to the choice of choosing enough, you see. And it's not easy. It's really freaking hard, if we're being honest. But may I choose enough today and may I not allow the opinions of others to define me.

This is day twenty-two. You can find the rest of this series right here.

If you like this post, consider getting the rest of this series dropped right into your inbox. You can sign up here. And don't worry, I'll never give your email out to anyone. Ever.  [madmimi id=2]