Ashley Beaudin is a writer, relentless encourager and friend. Soul stirring conversations, brainstorming home run hitting ideas and all things polka dotted and confetti fire her up. Her latest life coaching program has hit the interwebs and you can find her chatting life with people to get to that fire in their bones. She believes in Jesus who is passionate about your heart. For real. You can connect more with her on Twitter or her blog.
It is this weird thing like we know we are, we're still here. We're still going to work, we're still waking up every morning. We're alive, of course we are. We know in our heads that we're still in this thing and we're still moving and we're still breathing.
But yet somehow it is just so easy to forget, it is just so easy to forget that we are alive.
We get stuck in our issues, the things that we are still working against, the situations we can't see the other side of, the mountains that we've been climbing for much too long, the storms that haven't faded, the cries that haven't yet grown satisfied.
We're constantly in our future thinking of the things that could be either in fantasy or in fear or we're in our past thinking "wasn't that nice?" or filled with the regret and the sting that darkness branded on our thoughts.
We get caught up in our thoughts, in technology, in the demands and expectations, the performance and the strife, as if there is always something we are reaching for but we never know if we'll ever really attain.
And it is like we just forget.
That the breath that fills our lungs prophesies a glorious future and a heart that beats within the walls of our chest sings over us, "You're here. You're still here."
Like if we could just pause in this moment right now and right here and just whisper to each other, "You're still here." As if in the exchange of those syllables that linger in between us, we're reminded that this isn't over.
That in all the hurry and all the clutter and all the fear, you're still here.
That in everything that has tried to take you out and destroy your soul, you're still here.
That even in your brokenness and questions and wanderings of the heart, you're still here.
That even in addictions and pain and failed marriages, you're still here.
That even in the wrestle and the battlefield and in blood spilt, you're still here.
That if we could stand before one another now and hold the shoulders of the other and look dead in the eye at each other and whisper with hope filled words,
"You're still here."
Feel the snow as it hits your warm hands and melts. Hear the sound of the wind as it blows through barren trees. See the sun as it rises because it always rises.
Hear the joy in the laughter of children that seems to trail upon the streets. Feel the warmth and glory of being completely surrounded in embrace. See the life that emerges out of ashes if you'll just lean in and look.
Feel your heart beating in your chest. Feel your lungs filling with breath. Feel your feet move to a rhythm that can only come from a soul within.
Come on now. Open up those hands. Let go of that thing you have been clenching onto. Open up those eyes. Because those memories aren't as beautiful as the life you're now living.
I promise you that this life is not a prison. I promise you that there is more than rules and expectations. I promise you that this life is an invitation.
If you're still here and if you're still alive, it is not by mistake or by some whim or because two people got together and decided to be intimate and bam, here you are.
But you were unbelievably and amazingly created. That inside of you is not just your heartbeat, but the heartbeat of a King, the mark of someone who has been so in love with you, pursuing you with passion and with a dream.
That you are enjoyed by heaven, not because of the accolades, by your resume or even by your crowns, but you are enjoyed because you were created.
That this life is an opportunity to be loved and to love. It is a chance to get messy and get in the dirt and ask hard questions and find the joy that comes in the wrestle.
And that this life is an invitation to engage. To stop suffocating and escaping and to start living.
To feel the pain even if it hurts like hell. But then to know the joy when it bubbles up within like it loves to do.
To grapple with the mess of questions. But then to know the security when you stumble upon that hope that resurrects lives again.
To walk through your stuff because you'll indeed have it. But then to know the freedom on the inside when you're restored, made whole, transformed.
You're alive. You're still here. It is not by mistake.
You've got on the treasure on the inside of you that this planet needs.
So stop the suffocating, the escaping, the running, and let the syllables linger between us now.
You're alive. You're still here.