You Have Permission...

Our house was filled with the usual sounds of the late morning as I did my morning routine in my bathroom- several feet pitter pattering throughout the halls, the sounds of wild animals squawking. 

My daughter and her entourage of 2 younger siblings filed into my room, showing me her latest costume.

"Look! I'm a SCUBA diver!" She had put together a backpack as her oxygen tank, and her doctor's stethoscope as her breathing tube.

My kids can almost always be found pretending to be this or that, creating some of the most creative get ups with just about any kind of scrap toy. This is completely normal in my house.

But this morning, I was impressed with her creativity. It reminded me of children's ability to take seemingly normal things and transform them into new creations. To have the perspective that something has life beyond what society prescribes to it. To give the world permission to see things differently.

This is why children are a gift. Somehow through the storms of life, we adults come out limping, creating beliefs to help us cope with the pain. We want to be safe from ever experiencing whatever we came out of. And as time marches on, the cement of those beliefs set, and we experience life with 
this new normal. We don't feel the heaviness on our feet, until a childlike mind shows us that we can run again.

When I saw my daughter, I thought Sometimes we just need permission...

A backpack is for putting school things in.
A stethoscope is for checking patient's hearts.
Goggles are for swimming.

Until somebody has eyes to see beyond.

What cement has set around you? What cement has set around you?

Perhaps you believe you are too old for school. Perhaps you have given up on finding a spouse. Perhaps you've been told you can't wear this or that. Perhaps you've been told your dreams are silly.

No, you probably didn't hear anybody say these actual words. But perhaps you heard it through a friend's facial expression. Somebody laughing. A facebook post. Or perhaps it was only you who stopped you.

Sometimes we just need permission.

So here is my prompt to you:

Ask yourself what things you used to dream about. When did they get buried? By what did they get buried? What beliefs have "cemented" you in? What do you need to change in your life to breath life into these dreams again?

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