brave. (again)

I'm entering a new season in my quest for bravery. It seems to be a constant theme woven into my life ever since I bought that one way plane ticket to Central America. That was the single most bravest thing I have ever done - after twenty-three years of living in the same city in the same state, I picked up my life and moved to what now seems like a whole other world. All. By. Myself.

And that is brave, my friends.

All the times I've been learning to be brave in these past years - it was mostly being brave enough to know myself and how I relate to people. It was a lot about healing from past relationships and opening up to new ones. It was a lot about vulnerability in friendships. It was a lot about learning and adapting to a new culture. It was a lot about communication and honesty and loving without conditions. It was about receiving grace for myself and giving grace to others, even in the moments where grace seemed far and unreachable and inconceivable. These things are brave. Though I am still learning, and always will be learning, how to choose to have courage in moments like those, it feels like a new path of bravery is being laid out before me.

This path is one I never imagined I'd walk. It wasn't part of the plan...but then again, what part of our lives ever work out as we had originally planned? Living in another country, away from friends and family that truly know me brings real, deep, heartfelt moments of loneliness. There is just no way around it. Living abroad lends itself to this kind of longing and sadness. While one learns how to cope healthily, how to make new friendships, how to create an almost second family - there are still those moments.

It feels especially hard when something terrible has happened back home - a dear friend whose dad passes away, a massive flood that brings destruction, the moving on after the loss of a grandfather, a soul sister whose family member is in a horrible car accident. The reality of being so far digs deep into my soul, cutting and breaking and wringing out my heart.

Courage is learning how to grieve these things from afar. But that's only one type of bravery. One that I choose when I moved thousands of miles away from home. I'm learning a different kind of brave now - one that I didn't necessarily want or choose for myself. Yet a growing sense of thankfulness is beginning to surround this new season.

I have a lot of friends in relationships, married or having kids. And saying yes to these things might be one of the bravest things one can do in this crazy, messy life. But learning how to be single is just as brave. Though it doesn't always feel that way. Some days it's just this haunting feeling of being left behind. Other days it's this weight that some how presses in on all sides, barely allowing breathe. And then there are the brave days. The days of aliveness and freedom and gratitude. Days of exploring somewhere new all by myself. Days of teaching myself about cars and living alone and experimenting in the kitchen. Days of camping out at coffee shops for hours or marathon watching Fuller House with girlfriends or splurging on a new duvet cover for your bed just because you want to.

In any season of life, there comes days of angst and anxiety and pressure and loneliness. But there also comes days of courage and seeking and thanksgiving and soul smiling. And I have this assurance: Jesus is in all of the days. As I allow for the ebb and flow of life to shape me and mold me, I know that Jesus is wrapping and weaving Himself into the shaping and molding as well. He welds Himself to my heart each day. I am not alone.

Because I have Jesus, I can be brave. And she who is brave is free.