Welcome Home: You Are Free

We are fleeting moments of courage trapped inside bodies that no longer wish to house fragmented guests that fail to pay their due. The quest to challenge our grief seems vague and foggy and impossible - but oh, do we crave to know once more what unmitigated innocence feels like on our skin. In our bones. Coursing through our veins.

This hushed, unseen brokenness curses our tired minds in the heat of 3am morning and demands to be felt. Not delicately or with a fragile kindness - but with an intensity that starts fires and turns us to ash. It is an intimate loss of one’s deepest self. A profound surrender as you slowly, silently relinquish every ounce of control to a sinister and unforgiving reality.

And yet here we sit, madly in love with the journey - the most mystifying contradiction. The girl who bends but never breaks. She sits patiently in the thick of it, braving the trenches with grace and forgiveness while holding the sacred posture of hope. She stretches imperfect hands over each and every battle scar – both frightened and bemused.

There’s beauty here. I know this to be true.

We are warriors. Determined champions gearing up for war, prepared to fight ruthlessly for an exhilarating taste of the freedom we once took for granted.

There’s goodness here. There’s grace here. It’s heavy but it tastes like honey.

And in this process, we somehow press onward - learning to love ourselves all over again, even if we’re fiercely battling to get back to that sacred place of peaceful equilibrium. I like to imagine we will know the sweetest victory when we hear our tired soul whisper, “Welcome home. I’ve been patiently waiting for you. You are healed. You are free.”