One fabulous Thinker

Where does my soul breathe when the world feels loud, When people feel heavy, And even familiar spaces seem strange? Where does my heart rest When the room looks holy But the atmosphere does not? When smiles are practiced And conversations feel rehearsed? Where does my spirit go when discernment whispers, "Something here is not safe"… But love still tells me to be kind? I breathe where God's peace settles like quiet morning light slipping through my window. I breathe where my heart isn't questioned for being tender, And my voice isn't softened to make someone else comfortable. I breathe in the presence of people who hold my vulnerability gently, who speak truth without poison, who love without performance. I breathe where grace is real, and intentions are pure, and I am allowed to simply be— not impressed, not shrink, not pretend. My soul breathes where God is welcomed, not quoted. Where His love is lived, not performed. Where His peace is felt, not forced. So if ...