There is this unspoken pressure to be hard. To be tough. To have skin like leather and a heart that doesn’t flinch.
But what if the real strength is the opposite?
So here is my rebellion for this season: I am going to stop apologizing for my sensitivity. I am going to stop treating my gentleness like a flaw to be edited out. I am going to hold space for the sad days instead of Instagram-filtering them into happiness.
You don't have to be a storm to be remembered. You can be the rain. Gentle. Needed. Life-giving.
I look at my daughter, and I see it. She falls down seven times, but she gets up—not with a clenched fist, but with open arms reaching for a hug. She doesn't mask her tears. She doesn't apologize for needing me.
I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, sitting here with my coffee getting cold for the third time this morning (baby brain is real, momma). We live in a world that tells us that to survive, we have to build walls. That to be respected, we have to be loud. That to win, we have to be ruthless.
It’s apologizing first even when you were technically "right." It’s praying for someone who hurt you instead of plotting revenge. It’s crying during the sad movie even when everyone else is laughing. It’s admitting you’re tired when the world expects you to say "I’m fine."
October 26, 2023
That is the kind of strength I am trying to reclaim.
Let’s be soft together. It’s the bravest thing we’ll ever do.
Lately, my faith has been pulling me back to this. The verse that keeps echoing in my chest is "Blessed are the meek." Not the powerful. Not the aggressive. The meek.
The Quiet Rebellion of Staying Soft
Bibian P.S. What is one way you are choosing softness this week? Tell me in the comments. I read every single one when I’m nursing the little one at 3 AM.
