the gentle things


I’m being intrigued by the delicate. 

Drawn to the meek things. 


The sweet whispers.

The small notables. 

Honest moments.

Soft spaces.


I’m being intrigued.

Because I have a growing desire to be gentler 

In a world that is telling me I must always speak up, speak out

and stand for something. 

Right now, I am standing for the gentler things. 

As I am learning that gentle does not mean weak

or boring

or invisible

But it means a controlled strength. 

The art of undeniably being

 unapologetically feeling

fully knowing the power behind who I am as a created woman

without forcing it on anyone else. 


A moment ago I glanced out my front window

caught my reflection

and thought about what someone would see if they peeked into my home, with the most innocent of curiosities. 


They would have seen me. 

Blissfully alone at my dining room table

Eating my favorite vegetables that I just cooked up for dinner. 

Staring out into my living room

Blankets thrown across the couch from my afternoon nap.

Further into my kitchen they would see a sink full of dishes I had to take care of later.

If they stuck around they might even witness me singing my heart out over the volume of the rushing water and banging of bowls and pans as I cleaned.

I hope they would have seen that I was not lonely.

But maybe they would not.

Maybe I would be the only one to know how much these simple, comforting, routine moments meant to me.   

And maybe that’s alright.


Because I’ve learned to love this space I’m in.

This space of coming down from my tower. 

The tower that I stood on top of, shouting to let other people know who I am.

You see, I wasn’t asking people to tell me who I am. 

No, I was sure of who I was.

But why did I so desperately want everyone else to know too?

Why is it not enough for me and my Father to know.

Why was I trying so very hard to let people know 

WHO i was

Instead of Whose? 


I am learning. 

I am learning to only shout for things worth the volume. 

And I am learning the value of a whisper. 

The sweet intimacy of soft spoken words. 


So I am being intrigued. 

By gentle.


And meek things.


Because I believe I have a heavenly Father who is waiting to give me much.

But how can He 

when I have already packed myself with so much, ‘much’?

Like a child trying to stick all she can on a piece of paper covered in glue

when there is simply no more room to adhere the feathers and beads.

That is me. 

The little girl who wants every sparkling, colorful, pin and ponytail in her hair. 

But who I am learning to be

is the little girl who just wants her daddy to braid her hair. 

To set aside my sparkles and clips.

To sit nicely. 

And have Him do something that I am just too small to do on my own.



I am falling in love with being small. 

Embracing the delicacies.

Collecting the gentle things. 

So that there is all the more room for Him.

And others.

And for my smallness to be able to fit just perfectly 

Wherever it might need to be. 

// all photos styled & shot by Zoey Jean //