The month of August conjures a certain kind of joy that only mid-summer can provide.

Wildflowers. Warm days. Cool evenings. Misty mornings. Harvest vegetables. Hazy, sunshine filled days. Drives through the country with the windows down. The low angle of the sun in the evenings. That mild, earthy mid-summer smell in the air. The whisper of Fall on the horizon. Back to school jitters. A wistful reminiscence of years past. The promise of pure, distilled hope. It’s the sort of feeling you wish you could bottle up and encapsulate forever, like a precious tincture.

This year, along with all the joy and the quiet pause that knits itself through my heart, is something new: a challenge unlike anything I’ve ever faced. It’s the taste of an independence I’ve never embraced before. For all the decisions I’ve made and all the calculated risks I’ve taken, this time around takes the cake.

The August sun shines luminescent through my windowpane. In my mind’s eye, I am looking out over the horizon at the possibilities of a future I’ve only ever dreamed of. It feels surreal as it does imaginary, and I am astonished to believe that this could be my new reality. I feel timid and a certain sense of restraint over taking the next step, though. I’ve only ever settled for less in the past – what would it be like, now, to take the leap and embrace what I know could be set out for me?

It begs the question: am I just delusional, or is this God’s plan being lined up for me in plain sight? On one hand, I want to drive forward toward pastures new; on the other, I want to retreat to the safety of familiar shelter, for it has kept me safe so far.

My mind holds host to a flurry of questions: Am I enough? Would anyone ever take me seriously? Why would anyone choose to listen to me over somebody else? I study the musings of other women who possess a penchant for “embodying your purpose,” and “stepping into the highest version of yourself,” but none of it resonates. I am an imperfect wild child of God, and I don’t believe myself to be higher than other of my fellow men and women. I see myself as a collaborator, a guide, and an integrator. If my goal is to unify others, then how does it make any sense to set myself apart from them?

~

The amber rays of August evenings envelope the air around me. Its grace is fragile as it is beautiful, like a delicate, crystal vase that threatens to be shattered at the slightest touch. In its embrace, I wish I could distill this moment to last forever. That is the creeping truth about time, though: it marches along despite our frequent inability to appreciate its nature. I start to think, if something so pure and beautiful can’t stay the same forever, then neither should I… right?

I look again out over the horizon, which I’ve only ever imagined to this point. Out there rests an untouched vista of possibilities I’ve spent years dreaming of. With all the strength and determination I can muster, and all the gumption I can harness, I understand now it is time to decide… if anyone out there is going to chase my dreams,

it might as well be me.