23 feels good.
I’m stronger in so many ways.
I’ve handled feelings, and I’m learning to hold them too.
I’ve stretched, kneaded, and turned my mind over and under and upside down and I’m learning to let it be soft and strong.
I’ve done Pilates, ran for fun, allowed my body to take me up mountains and down beaches, and I’m learning to love my flesh and bones.
I’ve pursued genuine friendship, risked heartbreak, sent care packages, felt my friends tears on my own cheeks, and I’m learning to lean into the long haul.
I’ve thrown the conservative Anabaptist church out the window, she pulled me out into the open with her, and I’m learning to hold strength in the same hand as weakness.
I’ve died and been reborn and died again, and I’m learning to be a living sacrifice.
I’m more alone than I ever imagined and more at home than I knew was possible.
23 is good. Jesus is good.
We’re living the best story.