Trying Not to Litter the World

A scene that describes my early mornings lately: waking up early to grab a cup of coffee and cast vision to bold ideas. Like, really bold ideas.

On Tuesdays that means teaching a class before my “real” job.

On Wednesdays it’s a Bible study.

On Thursdays it’s project planning.

I didn’t really set out to make this the summer of making important plans at 6 AM, but I’m glad for it. Tuesday is fun and Wednesday speaks to me, but today, let’s talk about everything that’s tied into Thursday.

Thursday is shaking my world right now. It’s a place of eager anticipation and preparation, where both hope and fear are equally woven together. It’s a morning of peacefulness and joy, but there’s also worry and confusion. Maybe the honest thing to say is this: On Thursdays I muddle through my thoughts, discerning what’s valuable and sifting through what isn’t, and attempt to tidy the ones worth saving.

And so I’m here – nestled in a coffee shop with my favorite pen and the hardcover green notebook I’ve been saving since Christmas for a special project. It’s freeing, really. I’m writing notes between sips, and not worrying about what will be scribbled out later. “Let’s give each wild, reasonable, lame, lovely idea its fair chance,” this fearful, perfectionist heart is learning to mutter. Sometimes the only voice an idea gets is a single line on the paper, and that’s plenty to show me its heart before striking through it and writing something better beneath it. I’m learning that.

This is scary though. No way I could do this alone though. 

But I’m with a friend who is already like a sister. We’re dreaming. Planning. Building off one another. Listening. Note taking. Making decisions and wondering what the Lord would have us do.

It’s a safe place where the conversation is easy and we both show up with cat hair on our shirts. We share even the least of our ideas, and there’s no shame or ridicule when we decide it won’t work. We just listen, hear it out, and let it take us to the next idea. When words start to fail us, we sit in quiet. Sometimes for several minutes, and I think I’ll never underestimate the power of simply sitting again.

We’re nothing special, she and I. We’ve got just enough courage to show up, wrestle with our ideas, sit in the quiet, and ask God for more. Some mornings that feels like all the courage I have.

And when the overwhelm of the task ahead starts to get to us, we reach across the table to grab hands and ask our Creator to help us create something meaningful. Let us not litter the world with more junk. Lord, help us to only add what will draw others and ourselves nearer to you.

And when our eyes open, the realization hits us – that this is a privilege that we get to share the heart of Jesus through our conversations with one another. No, we’re not perfect. Honestly, I’m not even sure if we’re qualified to do this. But, we’re going anyways because we’ve learned just enough to trust that sometimes the most inspiring work comes from the most common of people. Like us. We get to speak up about the beauty of life and humanity, process the lovely and meaningful things together. Not because we’ve done anything to earn this, but simply because we believe in this.

She and I. We’re just girls with cat hair on our shirts, sitting in a coffee shop with a dream to light the darkness with the kindness and hope in our words. Once we get that, there’s peace in the muddling.

So we pick up the pens again, and get back to work. We’re just out here, working through beautiful questions and ideas. Belonging in a space of intentional living means something to us, and we think it’s worth sharing. We want to do it well. And we certainly don’t want to keep it to ourselves.

If you need me on a Thursday morning, find me here: staying golden and daring to believe that today is the day to do something that scares the crap out of me.



			

2 thoughts on “Trying Not to Litter the World

  1. What a lovely thought. I’ll add that it’s only litter of it stays in your mind. The cigarette butts we flick away may light a fire of creativity in someone else’s forrest. You have a gift Brianna. God bless you for sharing it with us.

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    1. Thanks, Tim, for reading. I needed to read that our “cigarette butts” might be someone else’s fire. Makes me think about my trash with a little more dignity. Praise the Lord for your encouraging words!

      Like

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