But what does it mean - this thing - 'being brave'? How is it done? How will it happen? When will I know that I've arrived? What does it mean to live fearlessly? To follow and trust? To believe?
I laughed as I saw her perched there - precarious. How could she not know? Her own beauty. Her own grace. Her own strength.
From where I stood stuck in the muck and mire and messy ground - she looked to be the bravest of the braves. Choosing to live on that edge....seeking to find peace and happiness on that one little branch on which she sat.
Her friends had all left for the winter. They'd flown south where it was warm and safe. But - she...she chose to stay. To be still. To listen. In her heart she knew that what she needed she already within. The bravest of them all.