soft

"Turtles and tortoises can feel sensations like pain and touch through their shells because the shell is a living, bony part of their skeleton—not just armor. The shell is fused with the ribs and spine and contains nerve endings that connect to their central nervous system. This means that while they are not truly inside a shell, but rather are their shell, they can experience sensations through it.

A turtle’s shell is its ultimate protection from many of the dangers of the world. But when that strong shell is cracked or broken, it leaves the turtle vulnerable to infection, bacteria, and predation by other animals. Though turtles are resilient, a severe injury to the shell could cost it its life."

I have been told my entire life that I should be softer. And for my entire life, I believed I should be that way. Something must be wrong with me, I've thought—that others have this instinctive softness, and it requires effort from me.

My natural, default—if you will—setting is intense, bristled, guarded. Like a hard shell around me, my "hardness" has protected me on several occasions. More than I can count. More than you'd expect, if being soft is, in fact, how I’m supposed to be.

When I was 17 years old, my high school principal called me into the office and suggestively mentioned that I find a good therapist."You don't have to be this way. You can find help," he said to me.

To be fair, I've never shied away from being a problem. And in high school, that was at an all-time peak. The “problem” I’ve always been is being direct. Saying the thing everyone in the room won’t address. Asking the question that challenges the answer. When you’re a child—and especially when you’re a young girl—this makes you the problem.

As an adolescent, I was often told that Jesus wanted to reveal the softness of my heart—if I would only allow Him, if only I would surrender. While I believe this was true, I also believe that the softness inside of me has always existed. But only because of the hard shell I live inside of, a shell that is simply a part of me.

This is a new truth. A truth that feels lighter. It feels divine.

The softness inside of me is present. But the hard shell, the intensity I carry, the fierceness that I embody—well, that’s also present. Two things can be true at the same time. Isn’t God so wonderful and intentional in the way He creates?

"Like the sun, the light of God's truth is not something we can stare directly at. Instead, we know the nature of truth by experiencing it."

The tortoise and I—we have the same religion. We share the same God."What if you stopped being afraid and ashamed of your shell and started trusting it instead? You feel so much, but God made you this way for a reason," it says to me.

Good idea, tortoise. I think I will try that.