Only The Brave

What motivates me?

If I’m honest, I’m afraid that I am lazy. That I don’t want it enough, whatever it is. That the passions of my heart don’t blaze as hot as the dreams of others, that I lack the will power or work ethic to make my hopes become reality.

I can let the quiet images of my hopes for life linger on the canvas of my mind, but to turn them into spoken determination, I more often give half-hearted effort but do not find a way to finish what I began. Or, I let self-doubt dig its claws into my skin, give in to the hiss of insult slung in my ear. And soon, I let my defenses down and start to believe the lies for distorted truth. Even when I know in the back of my brain that I have so incredibly much to offer this world.

Maybe I’m just a dreamer. Maybe I will always be stuck marveling at the success of others, how they seem to have direct connection to God, who allows them to live out the desires of their hearts and not merely live, but flourish in them. It is a battle to keep myself upright and keep from swerving into a victim and woe-is-me mentality. But, in a way, there is no one to blame but myself.

Freedom should come from nothing less than every ounce of desire come from Him who made the heavens and my heart. // And motivation should be an easy yoke to bear, instead of bringing me down.

Deep down in the hollow of my heart, there’s a belief that I am better than what I tell myself. We are all susceptible to lies, but only the brave call their bluff.

Outside the window of the Starbucks I’m sitting in with my new soul friend, dry, brittle brown grass points through the thin layer of snow. Winter settles itself too long in this place, and the frigid air that slaps a sting of cold across your cheek does its job of discouragement very well. In Wisconsin, it’s a double whammy, where I have to fight against the weather and myself. Lord, give me strength to slay these dragons.

A weak sun casts small shadows over the pines, bare-branched maples stiff and erect along the sky. There are secrets from the sun, the ones that make me search and dream.

We had all better be living for something. For something that makes this life bearable and gives hope to the next. Always, our hearts beat to believe, to fight for what jolts us awake.

I must not lose the exhilaration of the climb, the peak, the descent. The staring straight-faced and unblinking into the eyes of my fear and saying that it won’t have power over me. That I will still fight, I will unlock my passion and have its wild-streak lead me. I am myself, after all, God’s own daughter, beautiful, strong and free.

I can be no one else.

 

***

Continuing my attempt at the Five Minute Friday weekly writing challenge. Five minutes to write on the assigned topic. Raw and unedited. (Yikes!) This week’s topic: Motivate.   // symbolizes where five minutes stopped, and then I continued writing.

5 thoughts on “Only The Brave

  1. Yes. This. Except, for me, often, the climb is anything but exhilarating. It is itself looking into the eyes of fear, but that doesn’t negate anything you wrote. The summit lies somewhere up above. He’ll get us there. I’ll keep fighting, too. Blessings!

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  2. This is just fabulous, Sarah. And it really resonates with me: the fear, the self-contained, the anxiety over my lack of progress or success or whatever. May God blow on those embers in our hearts and turn them into flames.

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  3. Sarah, I resonate with the struggle to follow passion in the midst of the bleak winters. Yet, they can’t hide the reminder of the Creator who breathes our passions into us. “Always, our hearts beat to believe, to fight for what jolts us awake.” Yes!

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