never been here before

When the time comes, I know. I sometimes jump too soon, but I try to trust my instincts more, as I’m told I often have good ones. So I jump. I jump while knowing it will end with a crash, hoping that I will be caught. You might even say it’s jumping with one eye open. Sometimes it’s a mistake, sometimes it is not. Most often, it requires me to adjust my expectation. I adjust rather than what I could do. Which is be vulnerable. Say what I need from them. And hope they eventually understand and maybe meet my expectations. But I mostly just assume that they won’t see it [me] as necessary [worth it]. *sigh* How long am I going to be here? In this place that makes me feel this way? There is such fragile in-authenticity in this. Somehow it feels best, even easier, for me. (Though the tangle of emotions hardly makes it easier.) But my relationship with them is “easier,” because nothing is expected, because I don’t communicate. Nothing is expected because ultimately I believe

I had the privilege to speak at a women’s conference this last weekend, and in a way that only God could, he intervened on my topic. Which made me very nearly terrified. The theme of the conference was “Patterns God is Weaving in Our Lives” and after going through several topic ideas, I realized I wasn't particularly passionate about any of them. I could speak on them, with some measure of authority, but I was fearful that it wouldn't come from the heart. (Which is a miracle in itself, because two years ago I don’t know that I would have been in tune with myself enough to understand the importance of speaking on a topic that matters to you – and how that makes your talk so much better.) Enough with the suspense – my talk was Patterns of Love: Vulnerability and the Lavish Love of God . Now, of course, with the word “vulnerability” you have to know that Brené Brown’s material comes into play, though I used almost nothing of her’s in my talk. She mostly just inspired m