so is life

Brutal + Beautiful = Brutiful
So is life.


I really, really enjoy Glennon's Momastery blog. I know I've mentioned it  few times, but really. It's the best. This week has been deemed Miracle Week. I just sat and read through many, many comments of readers and their own personal miracles. The brutiful thing is, those miracles were each side by side with grief and pain and sometimes even loss.

This post got me thinking... where are my miracles? What do I consider a miracle to be? I tend to forget about important things that happen to me. Call it memory loss or laziness, but it's something I genuinely struggle with. I receive so much joy from reading about other people's miracles, the beauty in the suffering of their lives. One woman commented, "I love that you embrace the paradoxes of life. Not negative, just real and whole. Continuing to trudge through rugged terrain is a miracle. We are all miracles and it is these challenges that can help our souls grow."
love that.

We're all miracles. My therapist (ha) has told me that several times. "Candice, it's a miracle that you are here and that you are trying to love and follow Jesus, and that your life is the way that it is." The truth is I could have self-destructed a long, long time ago. We all could have. This pain that we deal with, be it physical, emotional, mental, spiritual, has attributes of the impossible. It's too much. How do we possibly go on? And here is where I am so, so, so convinced that we as human beings were created with purpose, intended for greatness, and loved beyond measure. Despite all, we can go on. We are going on. We are living. This is a miracle. Yes, we may drink and we may sleep around, but we are here. His grace is abounding. We are healing. Alive.

I had the immense privilege of showing hospitality to some of my favorite people yesterday: my small group ladies. It was so fun to have them at MY HOUSE. I have a house! This is also a miracle. I honestly had this moment, amidst my running around trying not to burn the muffins and realizing I should probably get dressed and do something with my hair, where I looked in the mirror and paused. Breathed. And thought to myself: You are doing this. You are in Minnesota, renting a house, hosting people. You are a woman. It was a moment of accomplishment and the realization of adulthood. And it was oddly sacred.
We discussed the subject of letting your life speak-- living out of the deep, honest place inside of you and being true to yourself. How do we do that in a world so full of comparison and unreachable  standards of perfection? Of course, this brought out a lot of brutiful things. Fear and faith. Love and leaving. Sadness and excitement. News of babies alongside news of "still no babies" and "no longer a baby." News of "we broke up" alongside stories of "my fiancee and I..."
Brutiful.


Today I am choosing to rest in this brutal and beautiful life. I am choosing to open my hands, even if I have to pry each stubborn finger open, and let go. I choose to let forgiveness break through my hardened heart. I choose to speak up and also shut up. I choose to just be. Be sad. Be heavy. Be hopeful.

Let's hold ourselves to a standard of GRACE, not perfection.
Let's do this brutiful life together.


xo.