It’s Friday and that means Five Minutes with the Gypsy Mama and a community of amazing women who share their hearts in five minutes worth of words. Today we’re talking about being brave. Won’t you join us?
- 1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking.
2. Link back here and invite others to join in.
3. Please visit the person who linked up before you & encourage them.
Today’s prompt: Brave
I don’t do brave very well. She comes out limping, looking like someone dragged her out and forced her to participate. Which is, by the way, how I spent the majority of my childhood, forced to participate. Made to play sports in PE class, required to perform speeches in English, and reluctantly signed up for every church related children’s event when all I wanted to do was sit quietly in the corner and read my book.
Brave implies that there is some intentionality involved. But for me, brave has been accidental. She’s been the thing I’ve stumbled across when my husband came home and said we’re moving to London, brave showed up again when I birthed some babies, and she reappears daily when I stumble through life here in Switzerland. Brave just shows up. I don’t know how she does it really, but she doesn’t look the way I thought she would. She still carries a look of fear about her. Her heart palpitates and her palms sweat and her legs go weak. She doesn’t arrive in a fancy gown or with bells on her toes. She slips in, all awkward and gangly and not sure if she wants to be there, certain she would rather be reading a book in the corner. But now, if she came in any other way, I don’t think I’d recognize her.
For those of you with a few minutes to spare, I wrote more on bravery here. Happy weekending!