Bravery in Being Soft
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To my sisters in the Vineyard -
Let me start out this letter by saying the one thing want you to take away from my story:
There is bravery in being soft.
My name is Hannah, I have lived in the gloriously simple Midwest for my whole life, and there are only a few things in life that I love more than dachshunds, Bialetti stovetop coffee, early mornings, and St. Bonaventure. On any given day, you can find me with a whirlwind of philosophical musings on the brain, a Moleskine sketchpad in my hand, and a song on my lips.
But, peculiarly, I did not always think that there was bravery in being soft. In fact, I was always terrified of and humiliated by my sensitivity.
I began to hate being soft.
A year ago, I watched my cousin's newborn baby for around 8 hours every day for the duration of the summer. Day after day, the sunlight shone through the window onto baby Gavin's little cherubic face, and gradually, the ice that l had built up around my heart began to thaw.
Comforting him when he was crying. looking into his little eyes as he stared up into my face, and gradually watching him go row in his ability recognize my face when he would wake up from a nap and break into a smile changed me radically as a woman.
I learned that there is bravery in being soft. That it's not something to be ashamed of It's okay to squeal over the preciousness of a small child, to be sensitive when the world is abrasive, to be vulnerable when others have their walls up, and to cry over things that are worth your tears.
There's bravery in being soft. Let's make the choice to be brave today.
In the Tender Heart of Jesus -
Hannah is a 21-year-old theology and philosophy masters student, the administrative coordinator of the Hildebrand Project and a nanny. You can keep up with her ventures at her blog Tilling the Garden.