Stillness

Understanding Alone

Abuse Survivor, Angels, bravery, confidence, contentment, freedom, grace, love, mercy, Peace, rest, Stillness, Trust, Vulnerability, wonder

God is in the midst of her…Psalm 46:5

You may know the quote, the one about being courageous enough to grow up and be who you are.

The labels and descriptions you may have spent the bulk of your life trying to prove wrong won’t be thrown off, won’t allow your discarding.

For they know they belong.

You’re not aloof, you just understand more clearly than others maybe, the longing for and gift of alone.

You are finally you, and okay more now than then with your understanding of alone.

My son in law uses an expression quite often that makes me smile when he gets it slightly wrong.

“To each is love, Miss Lisa” , he’ll remind me when we’re noticing people who don’t look, act or talk the same as us.

Maybe he’s right, maybe to each of us “it is our own” and for each us to be here all crowded together, it is love that is required.

I dislike crowds. Some don’t believe me. Speaking in public comes with the territory of my work. Facing crowds with half-hearted expressions and faces to talk about hard things my heart beats for, is hard for me.

When I’m done, I retreat, I long to be hidden, wish I could sit in silence.

I need to be alone.

You know the story about the sheep that Jesus told the disciples in John, 10?

“And I have other sheep that are not of this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd.”

‭‭John‬ ‭10:16‬ ‭ESV‬‬

If I were a sheep I’d be the one close enough to the fold and keenly listening to be sure I didn’t get separated.

I’m the one Jesus keeps his eye on, knowing my need not to be sort of alone, but still close enough to know His love.

I’m the one often mistaken for aloof, sweet little “shy” one, the childhood description that stuck.

The one in the midst of the gathering either making awkward conversation or biding time until I can again be alone.

“To each is love.”

To each of us quiet sheep following our shepherd but lingering on the edge of the crowded and maybe boisterous crowd, to each of us too, is His love.

“My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of my hand.”

‭‭John‬ ‭10:27-28‬ ‭ESV‬‬

We feel safer in our aloneness, quiet in our quiet places.

We hear our shepherd more clearly when we’re not amongst all the others, competitive or compelling the crowd might be, good crowd or just noisy crowd.

We know where we long to be. So does He.

Linking up, prompted by the word “crowd” with others for Five Minute Friday.

Being Taught

Angels, Art, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, doubt, Faith, freedom, grace, happy, heaven, Homeless, memoir, Peace, Prayer, rest, Stillness, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder, writing

There’s just something about God’s ways that cause the constant return to quiet.

“Make me to know your ways, O Lord; teach me your paths.”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭25:4‬ ‭ESV‬‬

When you’ve had and have so many irons in the fire and you’re persisting, persisting, persisting because you believe not persisting would be giving up and well giving up might be quitting altogether once and for all.

And then you’d have to fake being fine with the oh, well I tried and it wasn’t meant to be for me facade.

I’ve been creating like crazy, so much that there’s no more space for my pieces and a crazy little children’s table I’m determined I’m gonna be stuck with because, no one thinks it’s worth what I’ve put into it and oh,

Well, you’re not really an artist, Lisa. You have talent but you don’t have what it takes to take you anywhere.

And you’re not really a writer except that people actually like your words and you like sharing them and a few people take something with them from their reading. And they tell you and you smile, thinking oh that’s kind of you but I wish I could be more, more, more.

Because you’ve got five or six possible places and ideas and they’re absolutely all over the place and all overdue soon.

You fathom a community changing idea for suicide prevention but you’re naive to believe you can do it your own and you know that so that knowledge joins in the conversation and question of them all.

Give up or try?

Then you realize, just stop.

Just stop for a day or maybe two.

Stop and remember your why that got crowded out by your what if and why not me or the big one for me, “How can I, How should I and mostly How could I not?

Because there’s always the place inside that won’t let you forget God told you these things are your purpose, He made you for these.

Landscapes were painted because the angels seemed less charming, amateurish, I discerned.

Others wanted color, I adjusted my technique and my brushes.

I wrote bravely and hurriedly to comply with a deadline and four days later reread the folded and put away copy and found a sentence that made no sense, a whole paragraph that had no flow.

Obsessively checking emails to see if they chose to publish it anyway. Crazy!

Crazy ever seeking more for me.

Too much, Lisa. Too much Lisa.

Grace upon Grace

You lost your why again.

Art had become a chore, my quiet space an obligation, counting down time ’til I was done with one and then finish three more to be complete, a series I called “Spirit”.

I suppose such is life when you’re teetering over deciding your worth from what you create instead of from your creator.

The things that have always been your sweet spot of comfort become a frantic and frazzled focus, an ever futile challenge.

It is miserable when you veer off the path of what had become your peaceable and pretty place.

So, you take a break, maybe just an hour, a day or two and you ask God to speak before you close your eyes.

You wake and there’s barely light outside, the soft and gradual I’m not gonna overwhelm you revelation of day.

Feels like God saying,

Come now, let’s begin again.

This time be disciplined. Be disciplined not in your doing.

But, be disciplined in your believing.

Make things of beauty because I’ve given you the ability, the hands, the thoughts, the words.

Make them for me, allow me to take them where they belong.

I’ve begun a new piece, returned to my beginning place, the quiet pieces resting on lyrics from old hymnal pages. The works I call “my girls” and some have called my ministry.

I’m at peace again.

Back to my soul.

I’m linking up with the Tell His Story community along with Mary Geisen and this beautiful story: https://marygeisen.com/there-goes-my-heart/

Heaven, Rain Down

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, fear, freedom, heaven, love, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder

“Do you know the balancings of the clouds, the wondrous works of him who is perfect in knowledge…?”

‭‭Job‬ ‭37:16‬ ‭ESV‬‬

There are countless things I do not know.

I’m afraid my need to know overshadows my trust in the one I say I know.

Some may say it is so, that when evening comes, my morning proclamations fade and my trust might be pretend.

I told my husband I’d be happy if it rained all day today. Something ’bout a day filled with rain makes some things more permissible.

Rest, and not obsessing over lack or just a nod saying,

retreat, gather your thoughts and get ready

continue the redirection you started and then allowed your feet and faith to falter.

Know who you are and acknowledge the tendency towards the former, adjust your sails, begin again.

We go slow sometimes in our going towards good, our turning from old to new.

Someone I know loves to look towards the sky. Me too, like her, more now than before.

Yesterday, the clouds were massive. God was very near.

I couldn’t look away, wished now I’d thought to lie out my grandma’s quilt on the ground and do nothing but stare.

Fixing my gaze on heaven not my weighty frame as I laid there, caring about nothing other than clouds.

It would have been heavenly, a little heaven on my tiny space of earth.

It would have and will be, more than enough.

The atmosphere is changing now. The spirit of the Lord is here.

The evidence is all around…

Here as in Heaven, Elevation Music

I get so very distracted, forgetting how far I’ve come.

“Lord, help me be present.”

This morning, I’m four chapters away from finishing the Book of Job.

Chapter 37 has a prophet detailing God’s majesty yet again to Job.

Reminding him God is God and he is not.

We are not.

“For to the snow he says, ‘Fall on the earth,’ likewise to the downpour, his mighty downpour.”

‭‭Job‬ ‭37:6‬ ‭ESV‬‬

In Chapter 38, God gives further reply.

“Can you lift up your voice to the clouds, that a flood of waters may cover you?

Can you send forth lightnings, that they may go and say to you, ‘Here we are’? Who has put wisdom in the inward parts or given understanding to the mind?

Who can number the clouds by wisdom? Or who can tilt the waterskins of the heavens,”

‭‭Job‬ ‭38:34-37‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Job accepted not knowing.

Job knew God knew.

I’m reading a book now that I’ve set aside, glanced towards to return to and on purpose placed it next to me with pencil for marking.

Its message for me, at first wonderful to know, I guess now seems too wonderful for me to know, to live.

You see, I know it is for me, still so hard to grasp less fleetingly, the knowledge of my need to let God be my full focus.

The day before the author autographed her book, I had committed to a change of perspective.

Told myself, memorizing the order…

God.

Family.

Writing.

Art.

Work.

Knowing full well, for far too long it has been about me, my lack or my striving to be worthy.

That author asked my name, her smile met me and then her eyes for a second more when I replied, “Lisa Anne”.

And the sharpie message to me remains.

God first!

Lisa Whittle

The book, a response to a pieces falling apart time in her own life, “I Want God- Forever Changed by the Revival of Your Soul”.

I Want God

I’m only through Chapter One, because I dance the dance of too much to know and too long I have not known.

Commit or continue on the same.

This is why we must want this with our whole heart and not just know in our head we need it. We can be told a million times over that we should want God, but our flesh will convince us every time it is a lie.

So it then comes down to the ache and the longing of what we want more.

Gradually, I am wanting more, my eyes turn from the mirror reflecting a haphazard pursuit and I look inward to His spirit in me.

More often now, the reflection is radiant.

As I look up and attentively within, compelled more towards my heaven than my earth.

My atmosphere is changing now.

The spirit of the Lord is here.

Freedom Fear

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, doubt, Faith, fear, freedom, memoir, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

“for God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control.”

‭‭2 Timothy‬ ‭1:7‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I captured a butterfly and then decided I was wrong. Hope it’s not too late.

It must be set free.

Caught up high in the corner of our porch, it didn’t resist my catching and barely fluttered to flee.

Found a pretty jelly jar, punched a hole for air and then reached for the lid.

The wings were motionless between my thumb and forefinger, no resistance at all.

Morning came and I regretted its capture as I thought of my fears and my efforts to keep most everything intact.

Under my thumb, clearly planned and not ever questioned.

Fear is a liar.

Fear is cunning the way it creeps back in.

It manifests and masquerades as regret, doubt, indecisiveness, insecurity, “overly analyticalness”.

Fear makes you forget you were ever strong.

Fear can fade an answered prayer into the back crevices of your mind quicker than you can say “Amen”.

Fear has already finagled itself back in.

Fear is a glaring, eyes covered with frantic hands, obnoxiously startling thing or a flicker-like tiny light in a dark room that no matter how you try, you open your sleepy eyes and there you go.

Right back to fear.

Faith, a quiet warm light at your bedside or to greet you as you turn your eyes from your driving to arrive back home.

Faith never confronts us, simply beckons our return.

Fear is a quickly spreading wildfire, hastening to burn you out,

Cast it off quickly, run back to your refuge.

Your journal, the place you write your prayers, your honest and scary questions and your figuring them all out with God.

Your knees, your quiet waiting.

The wings are beginning to flutter.

In time, maybe when I leave and let it be it will fly free.

But, now, tentative and questioning

Fear has returned to cause my considering,

Was I really free…is freedom really for me?

Last night I listened to lyrics I thought before were telling to give God all my heart, tell me what to do, Lord.

The song became new.

Rather than tell me what to do, the asking for more knowing

God, tell me what is true, God remind me only of what is true.

Saying, “Here’s my heart, Lord. Here’s my heart, Lord. Speak what is true.

Speak what is true.”

The butterfly will be free. I’ll check on it this evening and the little glass will be empty, the blue velvety creature will have remembered its wings.

What makes you afraid again? What is it for you that causes the writing of tragic stories?

Remember what is true. What is holy and what is for you not against you.

Freedom unexpectedly feels scary because it is new, years of living captive by fear make it foreign.

Embrace it, fly free and easy in time and maybe time and time again.

I pray we feel more free.

Here’s My Heart

Happy Way of Life #16 To Try

Abuse Survivor, Art, bravery, confidence, courage, freedom, grace, happy, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, Stillness, Trust, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder

There is a persuasion in the soul of man that he is here for a cause, that he was put down in this place by the Creator to do the work for which He inspires him, that he is an overmatch for all antagonists that could combine against him. Ralph Waldo Emerson

Have you considered the deep down joy of trying?

It is possible that trying might be more fantastic than you’ve ever known.

If we’d not discount it based on whether we finished satisfactorily or how everything may have to fall apart to come back together.

Last night, I painted for an hour, the same the night before. The surface waits for me now, paint tubes not closed properly, canvases stacked with halfway pieces and half-hearted attempts.

I’ve been here before. Seeking something big and of notice.

Seeking to be known by the work of my hands.

Instead of my heart.

Self-awareness, oh what a blessed gift you are!

Encouraging my beginning again.

Telling me to try.

I’ve just done a new thing this morning.

An idea I’ve had for a long time, a story and the deadline, oh shoot!

It’s today.

So instead, I pitched my idea…just proposed the heart of the story to see if the publisher might think the reader may like to read more.

This is not a phenomenal feat, it is simply a try and it is new for me.

So, now I move farther into my Saturday.

I’ll run while the air is still cool, make the bed, do some laundry, maybe return to the mess I made and try again and again.

Maybe, again. I will try.

Know that wisdom is such to your soul; if you find it, there will be a future, and your hope will not be cut off. – Proverbs 24:14

A Loyal Peace

Abuse Survivor, bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, doubt, Forgiveness, freedom, grace, happy, heaven, mercy, Peace, praise, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability

He restores my soul.

A grassy hill, a sloping field sits in front of our house. Occasionally, when it cools down with a crisp sharp change, a lone deer will stand and stare.

I imagine it sometimes more of a pretty meadow and I love to picture a flock of fat fuzzy sheep gathered together, content in their position.

I read this morning of our all-knowing God, His knowing us completely, our good things and our struggles.

I thought of Him as a shepherd and imagined one sheep who had found a solitary corner, separate from the rest.

One might think illness, pregnant with a baby lamb or some limitation causing it to stay back, to retreat.

Like a sheep all alone on purpose, I’m prone to retreat. Sometimes to rest my mind, filter out the excess. Sometimes healthy or something else.

Other times the cause is remorse, sometimes insecurity, sometimes shame, or uncertainty.

I learned long ago to find a corner and to sit with it all, wanting someone to notice or praying no one noticed at all.

Until I convinced myself to get up and carry on.

We have a shepherd who is loyal, not going to leave us behind or desire that we sulk off separate from rest.

God sees our good. He also sees our not good. Our emotions and negative names we give ourselves are just as troubling to Him as our sin, I believe.

Were we able to audibly hear Him calling our name, saying “Come here, come out from that corner!”

We’d hear him say, I imagine, “I give you safety not fear. I created you to be confident, not afraid, I will equip you to do great things, don’t be insecure. Remorse is not required of you.

You are forgiven.”

Then He might tell me a story or a few of them about others like me who got lost and were found and found again.

And if this were so, I imagine there would be an embrace and perhaps, He would say:

“Stay with me. Stay longer this time, Lisa Anne.

Everything I did and have done. It is for you, for you to follow, fully believing.

I am loyal, your loyal shepherd.

I don’t see your struggles the way you believe I do, I see them simply as not meant for you. I see you meant for more. This is why I am loyal, why I gave my life for your peace.”

But he was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his wounds we are healed.

All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned-every one-to his own way; and the LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all. – Isaiah 53:5-6

 

This post was prompted by the Five Minute Friday community, Kate gave us the word loyal and like most times, I’m sure I took more than five minutes to finish, still, I am linking up with others. Kate Motaung writes about the loyalty she observed while in Africa. Read here: Loyal

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Where God Has Me

Abuse Survivor, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, Forgiveness, freedom, grace, love, Peace, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized, Vulnerability, waiting, wonder

Lisa Brittain writes about freedom, trust and surrender. She asked me to write about freedom.

She reminds the reader that when we look to the Lord, we are radiant and without fear. (Psalm 34:5).

This morning, I read my contribution to her blog. It’s an odd excitement to see your words in other places, I hope it will always be exciting. I believe it will.

Today, it prompted a sort of urgent self-reflection, a gentle stirring me to right a slight wrong.

Early still, I’m awake and thinking about this new “forgetting and forgiving is freedom” place God has me.

I know it’s the right place, this place of deliverance longed for for so long.

Yet, it’s not about me.

I’m glad I caught it early.

Self-examination in the quiet space of morning caused me to trash quickly a post, one about not joining in the conversations about new and overwhelmingly increasing numbers of sexual abuse disclosures.

I harshly used the word “bandwagon” to judge others who are finding their voice and bravely revealing what they’d hidden for so long.

My 5:30 a.m. journal is a note to self:

Are you boastful when you declare your progress?

Are you self-righteous when you proclaim your healing?

Somewhere I remember self-righteousness being like filthy rags.

Oh.

Maybe.

And my sermon to self?

“Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.”

I will preface the sharing of my post on freedom by being clear.

I understand how important it is to confront physical, sexual, emotional abuse and if appropriate, even the abuser.

I understand the powerful freedom that comes from declarative disclosure, ideally with a trusted and trained therapist.

It is important to say aloud and as often as needed:

“He, she, they should not have hurt me.” or “What happened to me was wrong”.

Yes, I do understand.

I understand the strength you never thought was yours equipping you in your disclosure and growing stronger and stronger.

I understand to decide to step away from those wounds, to move on towards new and vibrant places with a countenance of confidence is a decision of will and of faith, of determination and daily rising up to meet the road with God beside me.

I’m not able on my own.

My decisive daily prayer of what to do now with my survivor story that was once horrific and now, hopeful has become:

Lord, what do I have to say that others need to hear, to read, to know? Help me to help and not hinder and to speak more of my hope through you than my harm through them. May it be so.

Because of mercy, Amen

Here’s an excerpt from my post on which Lisa gave space for my freedom story.

   For so long, I’ve held tightly to my harm from abuse.  My days and nights have been marked by reminders that prodded the scars of my heart’s wounds, the scars that would be forever tender. Talking with others who understood or at least could attempt to be empathic, I was committed to my mindset, a decision to “keep my stuff”. It was a huge part of me…

Read more here:

The Freedom of Forgetting

Happy Way of Life #15

bravery, confidence, contentment, courage, Faith, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Serving, Stillness, Uncategorized, Unity, Vulnerability, wonder

There is always opportunity to choose peace in a world that gives more opportunities for stirring up over settling down, peace must become a choice.

A happy way of life, being an instrument of God’s peace.

“Lord make me an instrument of your peace

Where there is hatred let me sow love

Where there is injury, pardon

Where there is doubt, faith

Where there is despair, hope

Where there is darkness, light

And where there is sadness, joy”

Prayer of St. Francis

Everyone’s disgruntled over one thing or the other and it’s broadcast “nationwide” for us to see, lured in constantly by not missing out or being left out of some loop.

Social media, the not so subtle vehicle for gossip and inciting conflict and confusion.

So, look away I tell myself.

Look up, seek peace while it may be found, look towards the clear blue sky, an open invitation saying here, “See, there is still peace for those who seek.”

This little building held a group of people called a coalition and while I differed from them in many ways, we began the meeting the same, a benediction, an invocation.

We stumbled over what to call it considering some there are offended by prayer.

And while I was once puffed up and offended over the avoidance of the name of Jesus, the verbal listing of titles and names of all inclusive beings and people

I listened. I didn’t know the one reading intended her words to be a prayer as in my head bowed down, my hands opened in my lap, an acceptance of heaven here on earth.

I listened.

My eyes were not closed, my posture not bowed down, more open.

I listened and found a tiny place up high in the beautiful old room to fix my eyes.

I listened quietly as did the others as she read, happy to hear that our “focus” she had chosen was peace, happy to be reminded to live peacefully with others and with our Lord of peace, Jesus.

He is with us.

Now may the Lord of peace himself give you peace at all times in every way. The Lord be with you all. – 2 Thessalonians 3:16

Sun, Sit

Faith, family, grace, grief, heaven, Peace, Prayer, Stillness, Vulnerability

He sat so that I might see

The sunbeams that were

Soon to be sunset.

We’d walked a sauntering stroll

Purposefully so and the same prayer,

A thought unspoken.

Peace for them, peace surround them

Evidently, all around and real.

As our neighbor lies passing.

The thought I keep thinking.

He paused and I attempted new prayer

But, nothing came.

Peace, I asked again.

Peace.

And the Lab sat until I said “Come on.”

We continued on.

Continued on.

What I Lost

Abuse Survivor, confidence, contentment, courage, memoir, mercy, Peace, Redemption, rest, Salvation, Stillness, Trust, Uncategorized

On the morning of my birthday, I lost a treasured gift.  A trinket, a charm my hand loved to seek out to be sure still there or to cling not so tightly to, my thumb and index finger, for secret security.

It was early and I was dressing to be with a crowd of women who were hopeful writers, speakers, famous and not famous, wise and seeking wisdom. I had thought to go fancy, bright colors and bold statement jewelry, then settled on a crisp white top with navy stripes, jeans, favorite worn leather sandals and blue grey beads that landed just right. Simple earrings, favorite bracelet, watch and birthstone ring. I decided to be me and the morning was going pretty good.  It was good, a good hair day, feeling my best me.

One more thing though, I was hesitant over wearing it, would it be just the right touch?  Was it necessary to offset the subtle sparkle of bead and would it send the right message, give the right image?

My fingers reached for the tiny hook that opens the clasp, the thick rope chain that has always kept it safe.

Seconds between thinking, of course you wear it,  people will notice and then…No, you shouldn’t, you shouldn’t act as if your day depends on what you wear or whether you’re someone to be seen and especially righteous by the wearing of your tiny gold cross.

Showy, Lisa Anne, that’s showy, that’s seeking notice.

Another second was all that passed and I convinced myself that’s silly, wear the necklace, no shame in your game, let it shine!

But, on the morning of my birthday,

I lost my cross.

It slipped from my hand and the delicate charm I was washing to make shine fell quickly into the drain of the hotel sink.

Well then, there you go, I thought. I tried to pull the drain from the sink, wedged the end of my toothbrush in and then decided it was okay.

I let it go.

No time to worry, no time to panic. Only time to carry on knowing what I needed to know.

I’d be fine without my cross resting on my chest.

No, I’d be better.

I’d be less showy, less fan girl of the authors hoping they notice me.

I’d be more quiet background and less front row.

I’d be able to see them, hear them, not be heard and not to be seen.

I’d be there to soak in what was poured out, not to be dying of thirst and hoping some special soul might notice and offer me a cool drink from their famously special cup.

A drink of attention, acclaim, of admiration of me and my appearance.

I’d be there to be changed.

And I was.

Two hours in,  my shirt’s all wrinkled and my lipstick has faded. My hair is puffy on one side and flat on the other. I’m next to a pretty young woman.  We’re facing the mirrors and she smiles as I smile and say, “humidity hair”.

Two or three others agree. After lunch with time before the next session, I join a group clustered and we begin to talk and we ask questions that seem so very much the same and we smile and we answer, we laugh and we agree.  We’ve learned so much more than we expected today but exactly what we prayed we would.

It’s all of us that matter, our stories of Jesus, not a one the same as the other.

Our messages are meant to be written and gradual or sudden nudges for others to know more.  To know more of our story before and even more of it now. We’re stewards or our stories, not proud owners and most of all not fancy paraders for our glory or our lingering disdain.

We are bearers of light; yet, not the light.

I am closer and closer to no longer fretting over what I lost or perceived as a loss. Closer to forgetting my need to remember, to hold on to, to believe I must appear to be so or just so.

The hotel called to say they’d found my cross. I asked them to mail it and told them I appreciated it so, it was from my husband and special to me because of it being a long ago birthday gift.

I drove right past the hotel as I headed home from the conference.  I thought to exit but decided instead to go on.

Decided to continue on back towards home, to arrive at the place where it matters no more what I left behind, only what I’ve come to know now.

What I lost mattering not, only what I’ve found and continue to find through Him.

I once was lost. Now I’m found. Was blind but now I’m (beginning) to see.

On the day I turned 58 I lost my cross, had to let go and leave it behind.

But, I’m pretty sure I found my message. Yes, I believe I found my song.

Linking up with Mary Geisen and others at Tell His Story. Yes, we’re just a blip on God’s radar, we’re small in this great big world. Still, we matter. 

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