I am sitting in the dim light of my basement, a hole in the can above my head where the light bulb should be. I do not type away in full light this morning, but in the glow of this screen and the small lamp, and I know the voice like a hand at the small of my back that says, “This is the way. Walk in it.”
So I do. I keep plunking at the keys.
Encouragement. It is a huge part of why I continue writing. To not only say, “You can DO it!” (a la Bela Karolyi, coaching Kerri Strug in the 1992 Olympics), but to say, “Sometimes, honey, you cannot, and that is OK. You are OK, and you are worth loving anyway.”
I am here to remind you of some truth. That you are loveable because you were sketched and formed and made in love. One unique fiber uniquely combined with another, unlike any other’s. And you are not accident, you are not error, you are not inadequate for this living because you are seen and known and enough even as you are not.
Encouragement says I see you, you matter. Keep running, little bunny.
When my eight-year-old is worn out by her homework and wants to throw her pencil or scratch lines across pages, encouragement is “Come sit with me, honey. Sometimes it helps to be close.”
Encouragement says, this is hard, but you can do hard things. Encouragement speaks into the belly of fear and says, No, you are not alone. You have to do this, sure, but I am for you. I am folding clothes here on my bed, and you are pushing the pencil across the page in the chair, but I am with you, and I am holding hope for you.
And you, too. You are with me, as I sit in part darkness, and I’m with you. And we’re remembering together the light that is real and true. We’re holding hope for each other, whether we see it or not.
Joining with the Five Minute Friday community at Lisa-Jo Baker’s and today’s prompt ENCOURAGEMENT.