My patio seems to be my favorite place lately. I’ve found me a few moments over the last couple of days, where the West Texas wind hasn’t been so aggressive and my neighborhood has had this incredible quiet anticipation hovering about it. It has been good for my soul.

This year I have plans to plant things. Herbs, flowers, growing things I can pour love into. I’ve never had the space to plant before. It will be glorious. There will also be a hammock involved, because doesn’t love a hammock. Inevitably, another freeze will come before Spring really settles in and then gives way to a roasting summer. But for now, on this day, the weather is still and warm and there are plans to make and this peaceful patio is so perfectly necessary to the current state of my heart.

I am grateful for still Spring days like this. I am grateful for seasons. And as hard as it is sometimes, I am grateful for change.

It’s my birthday today. 37 circles around this sun of ours. I’ll be honest though, that little number has stolen my sleep as of late, it has stolen my joy, it has stolen my focus. Or rather, I have let it steal.

Earlier today, I sat in my doctor’s office, as she wrote out a couple of prescriptions for anti-anxiety and panic attack meds(Happy Birthday to me indeed), and I needed desperately, in that moment, to remember my gratitude for seasons. I needed to remember and meditate on the fact that things change. That seasons break us and other seasons come along to heal us. I needed to hear my doctor say that my cry for help is not weakness, but rather a warrior’s way of clinging to hope and that I am not alone.

I needed to remember, because over the last three months, I’ve allowed my demons to slip from their cages, and turn an impending birthday, a tiny little number, into countless sleepless nights and moment after moment of tear-filled panic. That is not the life I want to live. No one wants that. A choice had to be made.


Instead of worrying about the fact that I’ve never really fallen in love yet or known the joy of holding my own children in my arms or gone to all the places and done all the things I think I should have by this age, instead of dwelling on the darkness of this tiny season… I’m asking for help.

I’m choosing life. I’m choosing to remember how far I’ve come and that change is good. I’m choosing to grab onto the anchors in my life, so that I can be a harbor for those I love on another day.

This warrior is choosing hope.


So now, I’m sitting here on this quiet little patio of mine, sipping a Blackberry Italian Cream soda(because it is my birthday after all and they are delicious) and I’m letting this Spring day wash over me like promise.

A promise that change will come. This too will pass. I am not alone. I am loved by good people. I am capable of great Love. And I will be stronger because of this season.

So here’s to 37 … And hopefully, soon, a solid night’s sleep. ☺️




Last night,

Desperate for escape,

darkness icy over weary bones,

I listened to the old wounds,

The ones that dismantle and stun into silence.

Last night, I let my demons slip from their cages,

The ones that make me forget…

Desperate for sunshine,

warmth drenching frozen, freckled shoulders,

I’m listening to the scars,

The ones that bear hope and speak stories of redemption.


I’m letting the Light consume and remind me…
I am alive.

I am purposed.

I am loved.

Chelsey Whitlow