I can't.

"I can't" is a phrase we're taught not to say from a very young age. We're encouraged to focus on things like "I can do anything if I put my mind to it!" "Reach for the stars!" "Believe in yourself!"

The American dream is built upon hard work and self-reliance. I was raised to be a strong and independent woman. I am grateful that I was taught how to stand on my own two feet, but in my independence I have learned to keep others at arm's length. Because being authentic and real is scary. It's risky. But living as though I have it all together all the time isn't the answer. It's a major obstacle to connection: with others, with God.

Unlearning self-sufficiency has been a hard lesson to swallow. Accepting that I can't do anything, no matter how much I put my mind to it, is hard. To know that no matter how hard I try, how much I strive to achieve perfection, it's impossible. I am a fallible, broken human. And the crazy thing is, that I am loved and accepted with all of my inadequacies. My flaws. My scars. I don't need to strive for that perfect image. In fact, hiding my inadequacies is probably the worst thing I could do.

It's funny actually, that I could sing "Jesus loves me, this I know" for years and years of my childhood, truly believing it, yet 20 years later I am flabbergasted at this basic truth: Jesus loves me. Me. Not the person I try to be or strive to be, but me. Just the way I am.

Sometimes going back to the basics is hard work. Taking down my walls that I've built over the years- walls meant to keep people at a distance, in case they might run away when they see me vulnerable and weak. Ignoring the lies that tell me I'm never good enough.

It's a daily struggle for me to come to God and say:

"I can't- without You." 

To live in my weakness so that moment by moment I might experience His power, His love- the kind that doesn't love someone because they're beautiful, but loves them in such a way that makes them beautiful [Rob Bell, "Sex God"].

The color of the day is Dandelion yellow. Some might call a dandelion a weed, others call it ugly. But a dandelion is delicate and vulnerable. And it is also beautiful.

If you have time, listen to this sermon podcast. It's number 8 on the list: "The Beauty of Weakness" by Pastor Matt Moore. 

Dandelions can also brighten any day

Sometimes it's hard to ease my mind to realize you're always with me: waiting, willing to hear my prayers, my hopes, my dreams, my every need. I pray for light in times of darkness. -Jack Johnson, "Country Road."

Today, I glimpsed the joy and beauty of life that so often goes unnoticed. I feel excited, I feel alive. Not only are doors opening, but mountains are parting. The brightest lamp in the entire world is lighting my path and showing me where to go, making sure I don't get lost. I have never felt so completely sure about anything in my life.

I have finally found the way to follow my heart. And to say anymore about it than that would somehow diminish its value. It feels so delicate, so fragile, that even a breeze could blow it away.

All I know is that asking God for guidance does nothing if you insist on being in control. It's so hard to ignore my micromanaging instincts, but learning to let go has been... awe-inspiring.

For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light. Ephesians 5:8

Color of the day: dandelion yellow: the color of this evening's sky as I watched the sun slide beneath the horizon, the hue of the flowers handed to me by a complete stranger before he disappeared into a crowd, and my equivalent of rose-colored glasses. Also, my favorite word.

(I realize everything in this post is cliché, but I won't apologize). Cheers!