Courage is Relative

"I know it's something God wants me to start living out, but often it's hard to know where to start."
Very nearly a year ago, my first post here talked a little bit about courage. About how I felt like it was time for me to start telling my story - but how that took a lot more bravery than I thought I had at the time.
What fascinates me most of all is that back then, my idea of brave was to write that bit of my story. Back then, honestly, that terrified me. And, if I'm being really honest, I still really struggle with making myself vulnerable. It just doesn't come naturally to me. Learning to have the courage to be vulnerable plays a huge part in what I've been learning lately, so I'll unpack what that means in more detail another day.
The thing that's really struck me, though, as I've thought about my journey over this past year, is how much my concept of what counts as "brave" has changed. I'm doing things now that even thinking about doing twelve months ago would have had me paralysed in terror.

When My Soul Needs Rest

This week, I feel weary. Exhausted. I've come to the end of the week: a week full of busy-work and packed evenings. A week where I simply haven't had time to recharge. And it's taken its toll on me, physically and emotionally.

I'm Going on a Treasure Hunt – Who's Coming With Me?

This weekend, I've spent more time than usual in church. Four services in total, rather than the usual one or two. All of them were very different in style: two at my home church, one "standard" service, one more casual; one high Anglican evensong; one Catholic mass.

In different ways, God spoke to me through all of them.