Welcome to Imperfect Prose! We are a humble community of people who meet once a week to write about redemption. This week’s host is Elizabeth W. Marshall of WynneGraceAppears.com.

We are little communities of me’s, I’s and selves.

And sticking our feet into the water of vulnerability or diving straight in and swimming freely around can be a lonely act. Or a cleansing act. Unless it feels like swimming around cold and naked. Because it can. And unless it feels like a pig wallowing around in a pig stye. Because it can feel a bit messy too. It is at once our soul which is truly exposed. And our heart, open and exposed too, can cry out to cover back up.
Stepping out into authenticity, well quite possibly the hardest step of all is the first one off the curb.
We are all at once humans, both walking alone and in community. And perhaps nowhere more so than on the path to healing do we desperately need each other. To bear one another’s burdens and tender spots along the way. There is strength in a community of Christ lovers and followers. And we are to be Jesus in the flesh, one to the other.
Until we acknowledge the true transformative joy and delight in living in a place of real vulnerability, we will cover up. We are a cover up people. The fig leaves are in our past. Fig leaves, shame and the desire to hide.
I have been swimming around in the cool springs of vulnerability for a season. And I hope to be changing and changed, forever. I feel at once the cleansing water wash over me, carrying away the particles of shame and fear and the cool breezes of exposure and freedom.
I am in process. I am in the middle of the messy living.
I am often still a hider.  Maybe my soul will be one that needs time to hear my world and Him who created it. In the quiet. Alone. Maybe I am hiding while I hunker down in fields of tranquil wondering.  There are still questions. But He is breathing gentle over me, with me, and in front of me.  I long for wide margins of space for pondering and processing as I go. And I am far from finished with the process of living into a more perfect place of brave. But the centurions are at the gate. Guarding and protecting, making it safe for me to me more of who He created me to be.
I am safe. I am safer than I really know. I am drenched in love, protection and the covering of a very patient God. This I believe. Surrounded by the Saints. Loving and encouraging me along the way. Carrying me when I am weak. Speaking words of wisdom and truth when I falter.

Brene Brown writes these word in “Daring Greatly”:

“Vulnerability is the birthplace of love, belonging, joy, courage, empathy and creativity.  It is the source of hope, empathy, accountability, and authenticity.”
Healing begets more healing. Because God wants us to be wholly all that He created us to be.  The healthy growth takes off as we travel down the road of hope, to healing.
And that is where being vulnerable, allowing light and life to shine on the scars and scabs leads to a more healthy version of us.  And the word tapestries woven at Imperfect Prose are an indication that there is a gentle sacred power in sharing our stories in a safe and loving community.

We are little communities of me’s, I’s and selves who need each other, desperately, to encourage one another as we press on from pain, despair, and woundedness. Into joy.
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