Just Watch Me Fly

What a year, it really is crazy to me how much can change in that amount of time. I'm happy. For the first time in such a long time, I can really say I am happy. The past few years, while filled with amazing wonderful things, were some of the hardest ones I've had. But sitting here, I honestly cannot stop smiling, and not because of any one thing but because I've accepted the truth. I'm content with who I am, thrilled even. God calls me unstoppable, healer, compassionate, and living in that identity is what makes me feel fulfilled. Words, labels, and what the world thinks or sees are so far past meaningless that insignificance of that level cannot be quantified. This isn't pridefulness, it's basking in the light that God has always meant for me to walk in. I know that I want to spend the rest of my life pushing others to chase their dreams and with the plan to be a collegiate advisor/counselor I can help kids that just need some help getting there. I know

So this is a poem I wrote back in the summer of 2019 right after I got back from Glasgow. A bit of backstory for you, I was in a not so great place for reasons I will save for a different post. I was going to my old youth group because it was a safe place, and I needed that in a very bad way. They were having an art night, a time to showcase art of any kind made in expression of how God was moving in you at the moment. I didn't really want to participate as a l ot of my confidence was wrecked, but Joey, the group leader, convinced me to sign up. I thought I knew exactly what I was going to read, an old poem I wrote years ago when I was preparing for my turn at Story night. Well... trying to play it safe when it comes to God working through you is a recipe for him to prove you wrong. I wanted to do something that didn't require vulnerability or transparency of where I was, so obviously, God had other plans, and I wrote this poem in under 30 minutes. Words that itched at the

Scratches, scars, and tears, Stretch marks, unique shapes, bright colors. The flower has all of these, each so different and beautiful. Smallest to the largest, We see beauty, a triumph of breaking through the ground. Harsh sun, overwatering, and weeds, All try so hard to choke them out. But when together, there is nothing that can. Power in the beauty of harmony, they stand. Coming back year after year, how loved is their rebirth. For nothing can stop them. Water the flower, speak kind words over it, Prune the toxic weeds that try to choke it. Stand for the ones that have suffered and continue to because they have been forgotten. Protect the small sprouts and buds of flowers yet to bloom, give them a chance to grow. Don't stand by as aggressors pluck petals, be the sun that burns them dare they touch. Why compare the different beauty you see? Why cut down the daffodil for the snowdrop? All have the same core, all were created with great love and