I'm thinking about the perfect job for me. Among many other things. Like whether to continue this blog...
Have you ever sat down to think about it for yourself? Perhaps you already have it so you need not consider additional options.
Here is a list of things I have been recommended for over the years.....
1) Nurse
2) Teacher
3) Secretary
4) Baker
5) School Counselor
6) Writer
Here is what I do to acquire cash - pharmacy technician. For a quadrillion stressful hours per week.
If you look closely you will see that none of the suggestions match my actual position.
Now. I often wonder if it is wise to try to make money at something you enjoy. Does it take the joy right out of it?
I love writing. Would I love it less if I were forced to do it every day versus when the mood strikes?
I enjoy kids. At a limit. I can't discipline the children of others. This greatly reduces my enjoyment of hanging out with them. Honestly, folks, there's a lot of bratty kids out there. Word.
I didn't get in to nursing school. #failure
That leaves secretary and baker on my list. I think I could do either quite well. I worked in a bakery before. As the clean up crew. Might I say here bless all the baker's because y'all are a hot MESS. What a disaster. Every single day. I guess speed trumps cleanliness-as-you-go. America needs them there muffins. Stat.
As much as I am encouraged to write. Professionally. I think it should remain a passionate hobby. It is a way for me to break free from the constraints of the daily grind. When I'm writing, I am all alone in the world. It's just me. My pen. My thoughts. And what follows is music and lyrics. You need both music and lyrics to express the soul and that stirring combination is what it feels like when I write. Forcing such a gift is like opening the Christmas present early.
I'm definitely interested in seeking alternate career paths. I'm definitely interested in the release of the overwhelming amount of stress.
For at least the short present it will come in the form of writing as a hobby only and friendships.
Let's share a cup of tea then, friend, and I have decided to continue writing this blog...
Tuesday, August 29, 2017
Sunday, August 20, 2017
The Chance We All Deserve
How are you at speeches?
Do you like to give speeches?
I took a speech class in high school, even though I had been performing in plays and programs my whole life. I loved performing and did it every chance I got. I have a good memory which makes me perfect for it. The sick kind like - "On the Monday before Christmas in 1987 I was wearing a purple dress with blue flowers and we had chicken noodle soup for dinner." I remember conversations in detail. I remember dates and incidents. I almost do not need to take notes. I compartmentalize everything that I take in and then sort and re-sort the information in the following minutes, hours, and days. Emotions and feelings are attached to each item and then it is stored appropriately. The higher the level of attached emotion, the more often the item will be re-pulled throughout the day and days following. And this is the lengthy process that cements these events. (And explains why I'm exhausted because my brain NEVER turns off.) This is why I remember throwing up all over my Chemistry test in the 11th grade. The 11th grade. Not the 1st grade which is entirely acceptable. It's why I can vividly see myself aged 13, with braided hair, wearing a pink dress, throwing a cup of water in Matt's face when he had the audacity to publicly make fun of me for choosing not "to go" with him. (I secretly wanted to do just that, whatever it meant, but I had trust issues and he proceeded to prove me right and the betrayal stung. Deeply.)
I expected to excel in speech class, but I was nervous. I felt awkward. I felt uncertain. The reason? It was not fear of attention. It was fear of their opinions. In plays the words are not your own so it matters not. In speeches, the words are your own. Or should be. (It's a shame that famous people have writers. If you are speaking before an audience it should always be authentic.) My grade was fine but I never did get comfortable.
Somewhere along the way....
....that changed.
My ability to convey my heart has become so easy. I do all my own work, just so you know. I do not fear speaking in front of others, because I see their eyes, I see their heart, and what follows is a conversation. Even if it's a group of ten, forty or two hundred.
Not everyone is cut out for speech making. Not everyone gets in the spotlight. But it is the quiet conversations that we should all be having. The "Will you 'go with' me?" ones... The "You mean something to me" ones... The "Thanks for being my friend" ones.." And most importantly, when it comes down to it, the "Goodbye" ones....
We all deserve the chance to speak our heart. We all deserve to look into the eyes of an audience of one, or twenty, to share and inspire, and when necessary, let go, which is the hardest of all the things.
Just be sure to do your own work. Be authentic. Or you might get a face full of water.
Do you like to give speeches?
I took a speech class in high school, even though I had been performing in plays and programs my whole life. I loved performing and did it every chance I got. I have a good memory which makes me perfect for it. The sick kind like - "On the Monday before Christmas in 1987 I was wearing a purple dress with blue flowers and we had chicken noodle soup for dinner." I remember conversations in detail. I remember dates and incidents. I almost do not need to take notes. I compartmentalize everything that I take in and then sort and re-sort the information in the following minutes, hours, and days. Emotions and feelings are attached to each item and then it is stored appropriately. The higher the level of attached emotion, the more often the item will be re-pulled throughout the day and days following. And this is the lengthy process that cements these events. (And explains why I'm exhausted because my brain NEVER turns off.) This is why I remember throwing up all over my Chemistry test in the 11th grade. The 11th grade. Not the 1st grade which is entirely acceptable. It's why I can vividly see myself aged 13, with braided hair, wearing a pink dress, throwing a cup of water in Matt's face when he had the audacity to publicly make fun of me for choosing not "to go" with him. (I secretly wanted to do just that, whatever it meant, but I had trust issues and he proceeded to prove me right and the betrayal stung. Deeply.)
I expected to excel in speech class, but I was nervous. I felt awkward. I felt uncertain. The reason? It was not fear of attention. It was fear of their opinions. In plays the words are not your own so it matters not. In speeches, the words are your own. Or should be. (It's a shame that famous people have writers. If you are speaking before an audience it should always be authentic.) My grade was fine but I never did get comfortable.
Somewhere along the way....
....that changed.
My ability to convey my heart has become so easy. I do all my own work, just so you know. I do not fear speaking in front of others, because I see their eyes, I see their heart, and what follows is a conversation. Even if it's a group of ten, forty or two hundred.
Not everyone is cut out for speech making. Not everyone gets in the spotlight. But it is the quiet conversations that we should all be having. The "Will you 'go with' me?" ones... The "You mean something to me" ones... The "Thanks for being my friend" ones.." And most importantly, when it comes down to it, the "Goodbye" ones....
We all deserve the chance to speak our heart. We all deserve to look into the eyes of an audience of one, or twenty, to share and inspire, and when necessary, let go, which is the hardest of all the things.
Just be sure to do your own work. Be authentic. Or you might get a face full of water.
Saturday, August 19, 2017
Broken Pieces
I think that there might be things that feel like a right. Something deserved. Unearned. But deserved.
Like reading. Everyone should get the chance to learn that skill.
Like being part of a family. Everyone should get the chance to feel included in a fold of love.
There are plenty of sorrows to choose from if we were to categorize tonight. So many weighted hearts and minds. Most of the weighted seem to find screaming from the mountain tops the best way to rectify and resolve. I almost cannot bear to listen to one more person rail about racism and our president and the flag and minimum wage and capitalism and socialism and marriage laws and public restroom laws AND.... People, you are daily demanding attention...
I can't listen to one more word that you are shouting. Not one more word.
You know what I love about the Old Testament? What I respect about the Jewish faith? The passing of the Word from generation to generation. Verbally. Instruction is given (even now for us Gentiles) to teach the words and stories to your children when you are sitting, walking along the way, when you lie down and when you get up and....
You know what is the second most favorite thing I love about the Old Testament?
This.
"And he said, Go forth, and stand upon the mount before the LORD. And, behold, the LORD passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and brake in pieces the rocks before the LORD; but the LORD was not in the wind: and after the wind an earthquake; but the LORD was not in the earthquake: And after the earthquake a fire; but the LORD was not in the fire: and after the fire a still small voice."
A still small voice.
The I AM. Who alone has authority to demand attention with wind and earthquakes and lightening and rainbows and thunder.
The I AM is found in a still small voice.
He spoke with Elijah. I can't even begin to imagine what that must be like, but one day I will know.
If we read into the passage we understand that He CAME to Elijah.
HE came TO Elijah.
Mind blown.
This is what our God does. This is the love that we cannot hope to understand. That in this season of doubt, heartache, worries, strife...the I AM pursues us.
Friends. He is not likely to join your riots. You will not hear him shouting. His Facebook feed will not be covered in political memes.
For now. He will come with a still small voice. You will have to be looking and listening to find Him. Oh, He knows your earthly fears. The rights you think you deserve or need. Better He knows your heart. Your innermost heart. And He still wants you.
When in my humanness I would wash my hands of all of you....God would not.
I cannot explain it. I cannot adequately share my faith because God blows my mind.
These are some lines from a favorite song...
"All these pieces broken and scattered
In mercy gathered, mended and whole
Oh, I can see you now
Oh, I can see the love in Your eyes
Laying Yourself down
Raising up the broken to life"
All these pieces.
If that doesn't describe our lives..
In mercy gathered.
If that doesn't describe our God...
Friends.
A still small voice is the answer. For your fears. For your pain.
He raises the broken to life.
I'm living proof.
Like reading. Everyone should get the chance to learn that skill.
Like being part of a family. Everyone should get the chance to feel included in a fold of love.
There are plenty of sorrows to choose from if we were to categorize tonight. So many weighted hearts and minds. Most of the weighted seem to find screaming from the mountain tops the best way to rectify and resolve. I almost cannot bear to listen to one more person rail about racism and our president and the flag and minimum wage and capitalism and socialism and marriage laws and public restroom laws AND.... People, you are daily demanding attention...
I can't listen to one more word that you are shouting. Not one more word.
You know what I love about the Old Testament? What I respect about the Jewish faith? The passing of the Word from generation to generation. Verbally. Instruction is given (even now for us Gentiles) to teach the words and stories to your children when you are sitting, walking along the way, when you lie down and when you get up and....
You know what is the second most favorite thing I love about the Old Testament?
This.
"And he said, Go forth, and stand upon the mount before the LORD. And, behold, the LORD passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and brake in pieces the rocks before the LORD; but the LORD was not in the wind: and after the wind an earthquake; but the LORD was not in the earthquake: And after the earthquake a fire; but the LORD was not in the fire: and after the fire a still small voice."
A still small voice.
The I AM. Who alone has authority to demand attention with wind and earthquakes and lightening and rainbows and thunder.
The I AM is found in a still small voice.
He spoke with Elijah. I can't even begin to imagine what that must be like, but one day I will know.
If we read into the passage we understand that He CAME to Elijah.
HE came TO Elijah.
Mind blown.
This is what our God does. This is the love that we cannot hope to understand. That in this season of doubt, heartache, worries, strife...the I AM pursues us.
Friends. He is not likely to join your riots. You will not hear him shouting. His Facebook feed will not be covered in political memes.
For now. He will come with a still small voice. You will have to be looking and listening to find Him. Oh, He knows your earthly fears. The rights you think you deserve or need. Better He knows your heart. Your innermost heart. And He still wants you.
When in my humanness I would wash my hands of all of you....God would not.
I cannot explain it. I cannot adequately share my faith because God blows my mind.
These are some lines from a favorite song...
"All these pieces broken and scattered
In mercy gathered, mended and whole
Oh, I can see you now
Oh, I can see the love in Your eyes
Laying Yourself down
Raising up the broken to life"
All these pieces.
If that doesn't describe our lives..
In mercy gathered.
If that doesn't describe our God...
Friends.
A still small voice is the answer. For your fears. For your pain.
He raises the broken to life.
I'm living proof.
Thursday, August 10, 2017
Trouble With The Curve
Today, for the first time in his young life, my son resisted a hug from me . Because he was having some tweenage angst regarding instruction. He didn't just resist. He firmly pulled away. And he was good with that choice.
And I'm having a serious moment (or several) about it.
Parenting, like leadership, is a draining task. To keep all your little peeps trucking along in a row. To guide them. To instruct them.
If you're doing it well, you will not be making friends. At least not all the time. Someone in your row is going to be upset with you from time to time because receiving direction and instruction can be difficult. We all like to go our own way. But. If you report to someone, you have to go in the way that they desire. Because they are responsible for you. They are held accountable for your action or inaction as it pertains to outcomes.
Man. If parenting were all snuggles and baby kisses. Well. I'd have a lot more than two.
But.
Tweenage angst. (😡)
Adult entrees. (💸)
Book fair. (💰)
You understand.
I'm crying over here. Legit, real tears of sorrow and mommy pain.
My baby is an independent person with independent feelings and he is now on his way to stretching, pushing and growing his boundaries.
I'm trying to keep up with the curve, but like the movie, I have a little trouble with it.
It's probably ridiculous. But I felt that life inside my body and I birthed that child with great love and longing. I thereby reserve to have all the (several) moments of all the rites of passage that are now beginning in this household.
Son. I love you, sweet baby. You are my greatest joy. Your hands are letting go. And it's healthy. And natural. (Although not always done in the right way.)
And. No one. No one. Can prepare a Mommy's heart.
And I'm having a serious moment (or several) about it.
Parenting, like leadership, is a draining task. To keep all your little peeps trucking along in a row. To guide them. To instruct them.
If you're doing it well, you will not be making friends. At least not all the time. Someone in your row is going to be upset with you from time to time because receiving direction and instruction can be difficult. We all like to go our own way. But. If you report to someone, you have to go in the way that they desire. Because they are responsible for you. They are held accountable for your action or inaction as it pertains to outcomes.
Man. If parenting were all snuggles and baby kisses. Well. I'd have a lot more than two.
But.
Tweenage angst. (😡)
Adult entrees. (💸)
Book fair. (💰)
You understand.
I'm crying over here. Legit, real tears of sorrow and mommy pain.
My baby is an independent person with independent feelings and he is now on his way to stretching, pushing and growing his boundaries.
I'm trying to keep up with the curve, but like the movie, I have a little trouble with it.
It's probably ridiculous. But I felt that life inside my body and I birthed that child with great love and longing. I thereby reserve to have all the (several) moments of all the rites of passage that are now beginning in this household.
Son. I love you, sweet baby. You are my greatest joy. Your hands are letting go. And it's healthy. And natural. (Although not always done in the right way.)
And. No one. No one. Can prepare a Mommy's heart.
Sunday, July 30, 2017
An Amazon Princess
Purpose.
A loaded word.
It is defined this way:
"...the reason for which something is done or created or for which something exists."
Do you have this? In your life I mean. Do you understand why you are here? Do you know why you were created?
I'll give you a hint, it isn't likely to be for drinking coffee and schlepping from one place to the next. While these may be avenues of your daily life, and to some degree it is true for all of us, this is not the intent of the design.
I recently watched Wonder Woman. And. Man-oh-man, was I inspired. I made a statement on social media that went something like this....
"Dang. I'm gonna be as tough as Wonder Woman one day. But I'd have to grow two feet and stop eating Big Macs. So. Yeah. Maybe Velma is more my speed."
I wanted to be her. Tough - physically and mentally. Beautiful. Tall. Quick. Smart. Sacrificial. Giving. Seemingly flawless character. The embodiment of perfection. A tool of the gods. Designed for a purpose.
I'm close to the opposite of Wonder Woman in many ways. I am not the image of physical perfection. I am not solely sacrificial or giving. My character is flawed. I'm not super quick, probably because of those delicious Big Macs.
What we do share, Wonder Woman and I, is this. We are both designed for a purpose. We are both a tool for service. (Now I admit, for the record, I'd rather we shared a little more of those vanity features, and character bonuses, but it is what it is. Can I just for a minute put my arms together and deflect bullets like an attractive badass? Like. One minute. Thirty seconds? No? Okay.)
My purpose is to serve God and others; for this, I was created. I find, however, that purpose is muted in the cacophony. I am not fulfilling my purpose; because I can't hear it over the noise of "living" which orders my agenda.
The problem, for me, is not knowing my purpose, but living it. How do I restructure to fulfill purpose but not add to the cacophony? I have many roles, and this seems to be one more to add. And I'm tired. I. Am. Straight. Out. Exhausted. By life. (Unlike Wonder Woman.)
I have set my course. I have reorganized, recharted, improvised, and started a new path. Might I say these are hard things for summer? This job is for January and not July. I think Wonder Woman just has the one role to evaluate so she can do it whenever she wants. Which is probably all the time. And perfect.
I hope I will be successful. For when my life is over, I hope to hear, "Well done, good and faithful servant..."
And here is where I will have Wonder Woman beat.....
One day Angela will enter heaven, where there are no wars, no tears, no pain, and she will live there forever as a beloved daughter of the King.
It's best she know and fulfill her purpose.
A loaded word.
It is defined this way:
"...the reason for which something is done or created or for which something exists."
Do you have this? In your life I mean. Do you understand why you are here? Do you know why you were created?
I'll give you a hint, it isn't likely to be for drinking coffee and schlepping from one place to the next. While these may be avenues of your daily life, and to some degree it is true for all of us, this is not the intent of the design.
I recently watched Wonder Woman. And. Man-oh-man, was I inspired. I made a statement on social media that went something like this....
"Dang. I'm gonna be as tough as Wonder Woman one day. But I'd have to grow two feet and stop eating Big Macs. So. Yeah. Maybe Velma is more my speed."
I wanted to be her. Tough - physically and mentally. Beautiful. Tall. Quick. Smart. Sacrificial. Giving. Seemingly flawless character. The embodiment of perfection. A tool of the gods. Designed for a purpose.
I'm close to the opposite of Wonder Woman in many ways. I am not the image of physical perfection. I am not solely sacrificial or giving. My character is flawed. I'm not super quick, probably because of those delicious Big Macs.
What we do share, Wonder Woman and I, is this. We are both designed for a purpose. We are both a tool for service. (Now I admit, for the record, I'd rather we shared a little more of those vanity features, and character bonuses, but it is what it is. Can I just for a minute put my arms together and deflect bullets like an attractive badass? Like. One minute. Thirty seconds? No? Okay.)
My purpose is to serve God and others; for this, I was created. I find, however, that purpose is muted in the cacophony. I am not fulfilling my purpose; because I can't hear it over the noise of "living" which orders my agenda.
The problem, for me, is not knowing my purpose, but living it. How do I restructure to fulfill purpose but not add to the cacophony? I have many roles, and this seems to be one more to add. And I'm tired. I. Am. Straight. Out. Exhausted. By life. (Unlike Wonder Woman.)
I have set my course. I have reorganized, recharted, improvised, and started a new path. Might I say these are hard things for summer? This job is for January and not July. I think Wonder Woman just has the one role to evaluate so she can do it whenever she wants. Which is probably all the time. And perfect.
I hope I will be successful. For when my life is over, I hope to hear, "Well done, good and faithful servant..."
And here is where I will have Wonder Woman beat.....
One day Angela will enter heaven, where there are no wars, no tears, no pain, and she will live there forever as a beloved daughter of the King.
It's best she know and fulfill her purpose.
Wednesday, July 26, 2017
Untitled. Like the Hymn.
It's been a few weeks since my last post...
It feels like an eternity to a writer. My absence has not been for lack of words, but, rather, lack of the desire to express.
This is a summer unlike previous ones, and it's pretty mundane, almost as bad as the school year. Everyone needs a break from routine and we've had precious little of that.
Every day feels exactly the same.
But it's not.
Life is being evaluated. Life is being reorganized.
Change is a big part of life, but it is not something I enjoy or embrace.
I'm afraid to try new things. Truly. I don't order different things from menus. I don't often switch jobs. I don't take different routes. I'm going to be a very, very boring old person. I can see what I will look like, even now. Sensible white sneakers. Khaki pants. White blouse. Purple cardigan. Pearls. Glasses. And probably a handbag with a weight. For protection. (My temper is legit, friends. Don't cross me.) I will likely go to all the same places without fail. I will sit in my rocking chair and snap beans every other summer day. My body will be 83% sweet tea and holding. My Scrabble game will still be on point. And I will still be afraid to try new things. "No thank you, I do not eat anything that comes out of the sea...."
As much as I dislike trying new things, as much as I dislike change, it is so incredibly good for me. I need it so much. I need changes of scenery. I need opportunities to grow. I need people who will make me do those things I would shy away from. (PS - I don't care I'm still not eating sushi.)
I've made many positive strides. I can grow houseplants without death occurring in the first 14 days. I own a cat (that I personally bought) as heretofore I have been a nonpet owner. I drink coffee. These are all learned behaviors. Learned processes. One simply does not take a sip of coffee and love it.
So. To that end. New things. New changes.
Good for the soul.
I'm moving.
It feels like an eternity to a writer. My absence has not been for lack of words, but, rather, lack of the desire to express.
This is a summer unlike previous ones, and it's pretty mundane, almost as bad as the school year. Everyone needs a break from routine and we've had precious little of that.
Every day feels exactly the same.
But it's not.
Life is being evaluated. Life is being reorganized.
Change is a big part of life, but it is not something I enjoy or embrace.
I'm afraid to try new things. Truly. I don't order different things from menus. I don't often switch jobs. I don't take different routes. I'm going to be a very, very boring old person. I can see what I will look like, even now. Sensible white sneakers. Khaki pants. White blouse. Purple cardigan. Pearls. Glasses. And probably a handbag with a weight. For protection. (My temper is legit, friends. Don't cross me.) I will likely go to all the same places without fail. I will sit in my rocking chair and snap beans every other summer day. My body will be 83% sweet tea and holding. My Scrabble game will still be on point. And I will still be afraid to try new things. "No thank you, I do not eat anything that comes out of the sea...."
As much as I dislike trying new things, as much as I dislike change, it is so incredibly good for me. I need it so much. I need changes of scenery. I need opportunities to grow. I need people who will make me do those things I would shy away from. (PS - I don't care I'm still not eating sushi.)
I've made many positive strides. I can grow houseplants without death occurring in the first 14 days. I own a cat (that I personally bought) as heretofore I have been a nonpet owner. I drink coffee. These are all learned behaviors. Learned processes. One simply does not take a sip of coffee and love it.
So. To that end. New things. New changes.
Good for the soul.
I'm moving.
Wednesday, July 5, 2017
It's Where Life Is
For my young readers.
For those who need to hear it.
Know your worth.
Everything I would impress upon you, dear ones, is just this. Please know your worth.
I struggled my life long with self loathing. With self worth. A constant, heartsick battle.
Shame covered me. A deep sadness gripped every piece of my heart. I felt unworthy of being loved. I watched as the world passed me by with its style, music, entertainment; I didn't know how to find my place in it.
I was certain, absolutely certain that no one would enjoy my companionship. No one would understand the deep recesses of my heart. No one.
I watched life happen from the sidelines. My heart ached for what it appeared everyone else had. Life. Love. Laughter.
Do you know I wore only skirts until 1997?
1997. Friends.
I know very little about TV and movies prior to the same year. In fact, are you ready? I've never seen ET in its entirety. Mic drop.
I never had a boyfriend in highschool. Friends. All.The.Way.Through.Highschool.
Oh, dear young readers, nieces and nephews, this sounds like death to every teenaged heart.
So very awkward.
But what my aged wisdom tells me now is that I could have had no better blessing than this.
I can say without a doubt that my life would have had a very different outcome had I been down some of the roads my peers were taking. My heart was simply not prepared. So, thank you for not giving me the time of day, boys everywhere.
Relationships are difficult, no matter your age, be it friendships, family, or spousal. In order to be successful in your relationships, you have to understand who you are. No one under 30 fully understands themselves. No one. So, if you find yourself in an awkward between kinda stage, even at 28, don't take it personally or too seriously.
You are priceless, dear ones; before you give your heart away, consider that. Your value extends far beyond your physical beauty. Take less selfies of your breasts or muscles. Take more selfies with your smile.
Your heart should never be given lightly. Guard it well. The wrong hands will damage your heart, potentially beyond repair. Life is in the heart. In the right hands, it will flourish.
Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it. Proverbs 4:23
For those who need to hear it.
Know your worth.
Everything I would impress upon you, dear ones, is just this. Please know your worth.
I struggled my life long with self loathing. With self worth. A constant, heartsick battle.
Shame covered me. A deep sadness gripped every piece of my heart. I felt unworthy of being loved. I watched as the world passed me by with its style, music, entertainment; I didn't know how to find my place in it.
I was certain, absolutely certain that no one would enjoy my companionship. No one would understand the deep recesses of my heart. No one.
I watched life happen from the sidelines. My heart ached for what it appeared everyone else had. Life. Love. Laughter.
Do you know I wore only skirts until 1997?
1997. Friends.
I know very little about TV and movies prior to the same year. In fact, are you ready? I've never seen ET in its entirety. Mic drop.
I never had a boyfriend in highschool. Friends. All.The.Way.Through.Highschool.
Oh, dear young readers, nieces and nephews, this sounds like death to every teenaged heart.
So very awkward.
But what my aged wisdom tells me now is that I could have had no better blessing than this.
I can say without a doubt that my life would have had a very different outcome had I been down some of the roads my peers were taking. My heart was simply not prepared. So, thank you for not giving me the time of day, boys everywhere.
Relationships are difficult, no matter your age, be it friendships, family, or spousal. In order to be successful in your relationships, you have to understand who you are. No one under 30 fully understands themselves. No one. So, if you find yourself in an awkward between kinda stage, even at 28, don't take it personally or too seriously.
You are priceless, dear ones; before you give your heart away, consider that. Your value extends far beyond your physical beauty. Take less selfies of your breasts or muscles. Take more selfies with your smile.
Your heart should never be given lightly. Guard it well. The wrong hands will damage your heart, potentially beyond repair. Life is in the heart. In the right hands, it will flourish.
Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it. Proverbs 4:23
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