I made the comment to someone the other day that I used to not like flowers. Or butterflies. Or the color purple. Because I didn't want to be a girly-girl. I wanted to be different, tougher. I wanted to stand out by being too cool for those things.
Now I have a butterfly tattooed on my side.
Isn't it amazing how we edit ourselves to fit some narrative we make up in our head?
I'm pretty sure no one told me that if I said I didn't like flowers "the guys" would let me sit with them. I'm also pretty confident no one told me that enjoying hues of pink and purple took away any of the dust I've accumulated on my ol' boots.
I'm so glad I've quit letting other people white out the part of my heart that enjoys the little things. For these little things, they're actually where I see God most often.
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